Play With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 2)

GARRETT

“Damn, I look good.” Carter pivots, watching himself in the mirror. He tugs on the lapels of his tailored suit jacket. “I’d fuck me.”

He hands his phone to Emmett before he presses his palm to the floor-length mirror, sticks his butt out, and looks back at us over his shoulder. “Take a picture. Gonna send it to Ollie. Let her know what she’s in store for tonight.”

Emmett shoves a stool toward Carter. “Hike your leg up.” His head bobs as he snaps pictures. “Yeah, that’s good. Ollie’ll like that.”

Adam crosses his arms, watching the mini-photoshoot. “Damn, these pants are really good.” He gestures at Carter’s ass in his burgundy suit. “Doesn’t even look like you’re gonna split ’em open, Carter. I’m impressed.”

Carter holds his arms out and drops down to a squat, bouncing. “It’s all the stretch. They’re fantastic. Give it a try.”

We do, all of us. To be clear, it’s our entire team. All twenty-five of us are standing here, fully decked out in designer suits specifically tailored to athletes with muscular lower halves, dropping it low. We get called in for a ton of different marketing and commercial shoots, but I think this might be my new favorite. I look bomb as fuck.

“Fuck.” I place one hand on my thigh, the other on my left ass cheek as I lunge forward. “These are incredible. So comfy.” I sink into the stretch, feeling the burn in my groin, groaning. As a dancer, Jennie’s incredibly flexible. I’m not. She gets these ideas and I go along with them, but if I can be honest, keeping up with her is hard sometimes.

The photographer giggles, snapping my photo. “This is great.” Her raven hair is tied back in a tight pony that hangs halfway down her back. “Forget the posed photos; we should have just let you guys go for it. You’re all naturals.”

When I smile, she grins. Her name is Susie and I’m 99 percent sure she’s been flirting with me for the last hour, mostly ’cause mine is the only suit she seems to think needs to constantly be adjusted. She’s cute, but I haven’t said more than five words to her; there’s a saucy brunette occupying most of the space in my brain.

“You pull your groin?” Carter asks as I straighten and rub at the throbbing spot. “How’d you do that?”

The tips of my ears burn, the back of my neck growing damp, especially when Adam’s eyes meet mine. He hasn’t said a single word to me about New Year’s Eve. Is it possible he forgot, or am I just dense enough to hope so?

Cara promised not to tell anyone, but only on the caveat it was a one-time thing. She was all for it being ongoing but said she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut if it was. I’m surprised she kept her promise. Emmett’s been floating around me for the last week without a clue in the world I’ve had any of my body parts inside Jennie.

“I slipped on ice,” I finally explain, or lie, depending on how you look at it. “Yeah, I slipped, and my legs, they went, like—” I make finger-legs with my pointer and middle fingers, then split them, because apparently, I’m under the impression I slipped requires a visual, “—this. So…yeah. Hurts.”

“Jennie’s got this awesome massage thingie,” Carter says. “I call it the thumper. It beats the shit out of your sore muscles. You should borrow it.”

“I’ll definitely do that, yeah. I’ll borrow her thumper.” Wish I could stop my head from bobbing.

“Get her to show you how to use it. You’re gonna be moaning nonstop.”

Uh-huh. Definitely.

I’m still searching for a response when Adam asks, “What’s the line again?” He fixes his cuffs, eyes moving over himself in the mirror. He’s dressed in all black and looks sharp as fuck.

“My name is Jaxon Riley, and I have a hockey butt,” Jaxon answers.

Adam clears his throat. “My name is Adam Lockwood, and I have a hockey butt.”

I snort. “Add a little flair, at least.”

“Yeah, it’s like this.” Carter rests his palm on the mirror again, looking over his shoulder. “My name is Carter Beckett, and I have a hockey butt.”

“It’s more like this.” I clear my throat and wiggle my shoulders, getting into position, one hand on the knot of my tie, the other on my hip. “My name is Garrett Andersen—” I peek over my shoulder, “—and I have a hockey butt.”

Carter shoves me out of the way with his hip. “My name is Carter Beckett,” he murmurs, husky and low. He swings his head over his shoulder, eyes hooded as his hip juts, sliding one hand over his right butt cheek. “And I have a hockey butt.”

I flip up the tail of my suit jacket and squat low, casting a heavy, heated glare over my shoulder. It’s the kind I reserve for luring Jennie to the bedroom. “My name is Garrett Andersen…” I bounce into my squat, hand moving in a circle over my butt cheek, and pump my brows. “And I have a hockey butt.”

“Damn,” Carter murmurs, head bobbing slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.”

“This is great,” Susie says, snapping photo after photo of a team of hockey players dropping into squats, popping their hips, patting their own asses. “You guys are so fun and candid. We should get a couple of group shots, and then the videographer will pull you aside one by one.”

She steps up to me, reaching for my tie.

“Is my tie loose again?” I shove my hands in my pant pockets as she starts fiddling with the knot.

She giggles. “I don’t know how it keeps happening.”

Me neither, because the only person who keeps touching it is her.

“This suit looks really good on you.”

“Thanks. I like it. It’s super comfy.” It’s the performance stretch-tech. Tapered waists and legs, but enough space and stretch to accommodate our thick thighs and—you guessed it—hockey butts.

“You’re really tall. How tall are you?”

“Six three,” I answer, ignoring Carter and Jaxon’s snickers.

“Wow,” Susie murmurs wondrously.

I point at Adam, trying to deflect her attention. She’s sweet, but I’m not trying to give her any wrong ideas. “He’s six-five.”

She barely spares him a glance. “Yeah, he’s so big. So, is your girlfriend tall too?”

“Um, I…” I scratch my nose. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” It’s not a lie, but it feels like one.

Her face brightens. “Oh.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Carter asks, sauntering over, annoying grin on his annoying face.

Susie shakes her head, grinning expectantly at me, and Carter swings an arm around my shoulders, jerking me into his side.

“Well, isn’t this fun. You’re both single, and Garrett’s looking to get into the dating game. Right, buddy?”

Well, fuck me sideways. This isn’t good.

Pregnant women are scary.

Jennie’s got, like, half a foot on Olivia, and she’s still trying to disappear into the couch, flinching away from Olivia’s glare.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” Jennie finally shouts at her. “I get it, you don’t like the Christmas gift I got Carter! I’m not trying to die today!”

Olivia gestures aggressively to where Carter is standing in the center of their living room with a microphone, singing the words that scrawl across their TV. “Two weeks, Jennie! He’s been singing every day for two weeks!”

“Well, they were on a road trip for five—” Jennie clamps her mouth shut at the murderous expression on Olivia’s face. “Yeah, got it. Two weeks. Karaoke machine was a terrible idea.”

Jennie and Cara share a wide-eyed look, trying not to laugh, but when Carter turns around and captures Olivia’s hand, tugging her to her feet and spinning her around while he sings “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid, they burst with laughter.

“Okay, Jennie,” he heaves when the song is done, swiping at the sweat on his brow. “You and me. Frozen?”

“Fuck yes!” She leaps from the couch, grabbing a second microphone, and I don’t know what the fuck has happened to my life that I’m a twenty-six-year-old man spending a rare free Friday night watching my friends sing Disney karaoke.

And yet I wouldn’t change a thing. There’s just something about the way Jennie looks so utterly free and at ease, like she feels in her element here with these people, free to be herself.

“Sometimes,” Olivia sighs, “it’s like there are two of them.”

I pat her hand. “And you’re about to add one more. So brave of you, Liv.”

“I need help. So much help.”

I chuckle. “Can I grab you something, little mama?” She’s snuggled into the couch, managing to look both uncomfortable and comfy as hell. Her baby belly is cute, but for such a little person, it sure takes up a lot of her, and I’m certain she’s hurting.

“I would love a tea and my Oreos. Carter put the cookies on top of the fridge where I can’t reach, and the tea bags are in the pantry.”

Adam ambles over to me in the kitchen while I’m getting the kettle ready, looking awkward as hell, and a little scared too.

“Look, buddy,” he starts cautiously. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, man.”

“I want you to be happy,” he tries again.

“Thanks, buddy. Appreciate that.” I pour the steaming water over the tea bag, watching as it changes colors. “I want you to be happy too.”

“Uh, right. But in order to be happy, you have to, uh…” He runs an anxious hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room before he leans close and whispers, “Stay alive.”

I resist the urge to laugh, only because his concern is genuine, and also because not dying is preferable. Truthfully, I’m surprised it took him this long to bring up. I bet he’s been stewing all week.

I steal a quick glance around the room. Everyone’s busy, and most importantly, Carter’s still singing. “Look, it was only the once. It won’t happen again.” Lying to Adam feels weird. I don’t like it.

“It shouldn’t have happened at all,” he whisper-yells. “You made a mistake!”

I throw my arms out. “I make mistakes all the time, man!” I place a hand on my chest to calm my erratic breathing before this gets any more heated. Plus, Cara’s eyeing us from the living room. I don’t need her sticking her nose back in here. It’s a miracle we got it out in the first place. “Look, all we did was make out.”

“You said you sanitized!”

“Oh c’mon, man! Were you even drunk? How do you remember?”

“Why would you need to sanitize if all you did was kiss?”

“Uh, because J—she—she’s a…a sloppy kisser. Yeah, super sloppy. She’s got this disorder, I guess, where she makes extra saliva.” I shudder. “Super weird.” She’s gonna have my balls if this gets back to her. “Still good, though.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Great, because I was definitely wondering how she rates on the tonsil hockey scale.” He leans closer, accusing eyes fierce. “What were you even doing in the upstairs bathroom alone with her to begin with?”

“All the bathrooms were full.”

“All the bathrooms were full at exactly midnight while everyone was celebrating the ball drop?”

I fold my lips into my mouth. “Mhmm.”

Adam shakes his head.

“Well, what were you and Cara doing going to the upstairs bathroom together?” I’m deflecting, not accusing, but he still slams his fist against my shoulder at the implication.

“Because all the bathrooms were full after midnight when we both needed to go, and Cara said she didn’t wait for anything or anyone, you dipshit.”

I snort a laugh, ’cause I kinda like seeing Adam riled up, name-calling and all that jazz.

He sighs, running his fingers through his dark hair, blue eyes exhausted. “You promise it was only the once? That you’re done?”

I scratch the corner of my mouth, mumbling, “Promise,” into my hand, hoping Adam will forgive me one day.

“So you’ll call that girl then?”

“Girl? What girl?”

“The girl from today! The photographer!”

“Ohhh, right, right. Her. Yeah, I’m gonna call her.” Already deleted her number.

Susie was fine. She was cute and sweet and very friendly. If I were available, maybe I’d take her out. But I’m not available. I don’t think I’m available. Right?

Well, anyway, she’s not Jennie, and that’s the only thing that matters. She’s the only woman I can’t take my eyes off.

When Adam’s finally satisfied enough, she wanders into the kitchen.

She takes a mug down, and I fill it with hot water. She dips a tea bag. “What was that about?”

“Just wanted to make sure nothing was going on.”

Jennie leans against the counter, hiding her smile behind her mug. “Poor Adam. I feel bad lying to such a sweet man.”

“Me, too, especially when his main concern is I stay alive.”

Jennie hums, nodding. “Valid.”

I lean next to her, and when our hands brush, I link my pinky around hers. “Was the karaoke machine a gift for you or for Carter?”

Jennie snickers. “So what if I like to sing too.”

“I think you were born to be on stage.”

“Born to shine, baby.” The current song wanes, and Jennie lifts both brows at me as she pulls her hand back and starts walking toward the living room with her tea. “Garrett’s up next! He wants to sing Moana!”

I’d rather not, but Cara jumps up, declaring she’ll sing with me, and before I know it, I’ve sung half the soundtrack and Jennie hasn’t stopped laughing the entire time. I love being the reason behind her laugh.

When I finally sit down, breathless and hungry, Carter bursts my happy bubble.

“Garrett has a date.”

My jaw dangles, gaze darting to Jennie. “What? No I don’t.”

“Well, not yet. He got the photographer’s phone number from the shoot today.”

“She-she-she…she gave it to me!”

“They were flirting the entire time,” Carter continues. “They were so into each other.”

“No, I-I-I…she was, but I was…I was…” Fuck. The second my eyes meet Jennie’s, she averts her gaze, cheeks a furious shade of red. Cara’s own gaze pinballs between the two of us, a sly grin creeping up her face. Adam just looks fucking exhausted, or disappointed, maybe both.

“I wasn’t flirting,” I mumble, but the words are lost as Carter and Emmett burst into song, duetting to Frozen’s “Do You Want to Build a Snowman,” and for the next hour, all I do is steal glances at Jennie.

By the time we’re headed back to the condo, I’m royally confused. She won’t look at me, and she barely said a word the rest of the evening. Every time somebody addressed her, she asked them to repeat themselves. I tried to tuck my pinky around hers under the kitchen island when we were all lined up to fill our plates, but she twisted away and acted like I wasn’t there. The most I’ve gotten out of her was when she handed me the keys to Carter’s car and asked me to drive home, because the snow was making her anxious.

“It’s nice how close you and Carter are. You can tell just by watching you two.”

She keeps her gaze trained out the window. “Yeah, we always have been. He’s my best friend.”

“And me, too, right?” I poke her thigh and chuckle eagerly. I don’t know why I’m poking her. Everything is awkward and all I wanna do is touch her, put my hand on her knee, twine my fingers through hers. “Jennie?” I prod, poking once more.

She peeks at me, giving me a weak smile. I don’t think that’s an answer. If it is, I don’t like it.

“Well, you’re my best friend.” Because I can’t stop talking. “So, tough cookies.” Tough cookies? Holy fuck, please stop.

I drive for another three minutes in horrible silence, and when we stop at a red light, I can no longer resist the urge to keep my hands off her. I lay my palm face up, fingers spread, and wait.

Jennie watches me but doesn’t take the bait, so I shake my hand.

“C’mon, Jennie. Hold my fucking hand, please. I wasn’t allowed to touch you all day, which is, coincidentally, the only thing I was thinking about.”

The corner of her mouth quirks, and it’s not enough, but I’ll take it. She slides her palm along mine, and when our fingers tangle and she clasps my hand, my nerve endings sizzle. I wonder if I make her feel warm the same way she does me, like a mug of hot chocolate after coming in from the cold, or stepping outside in the spring and feeling the sunshine on your face after a long winter.

Back at the condo, we ride the elevator in more silence, but she keeps her hand tucked softly in mine. When we get to her door, she slips inside, and the way she starts closing it before I can follow makes my heart thump too quickly. She’s upset, and I don’t want her to be.

She gives me a smile, but I hate it. It’s small and sad and kind of shy, half-hidden by the door she’s gripping, barely pulling in her dimples. “Hey, I’m gonna head in alone. I’m pretty tired.”

“Oh. Okay. Are you sure? We could just watch a movie or something? I can tickle your back in bed.”

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. Just gonna go to sleep.”

“Okay.” I rub the back of my neck. “Um…good night, I guess.” I lean forward, and she turns her face so minutely I wouldn’t even notice, except that I get the corner of her mouth rather than her lips when I kiss her.

And that fucking sucks.

Silence floats between us as we stare at each other, making my skin itch. I don’t know what’s happening between us. I know I don’t feel the same as when this started, when all I wanted was an innocent taste. Maybe it’s my fault, for bending rules, giving her more than she ever asked for, the movies, the cuddling, the fucking sweatpants.

But I can’t read her, and right now, when my own feelings are new and confusing and I’m not sure of their depth, I don’t know how to proceed, other than knowing I need to tread lightly. Patience has always gotten me so far with Jennie. Is it farfetched to hope a little more will take me where I want it to? All I know is she scares easy, and scaring her off is the last thing I want to do.

Jennie fiddles with the tip of her braid. “Oh hey, um, if you’re gonna call that girl—”

Knew it. She’s jealous. Does this mean she likes me? I think this means she likes me.

“I’m not gonna call that girl.”

“Well, if you change your mind—”

“I already deleted her number.”

Jennie blinks once, twice. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Um, well.” She winds her braid around her hand, tangling her fingers, and her cheeks turn pink as she tries to free herself. I reach forward and pull her hand from her hair. She promptly starts picking at imaginary lint on her hoodie. “Just remember that we should end this before you start seeing someone else, because I don’t want to feel stupid, or be embarrassed, or whatever.”

“I’m not seeing someone else, Jennie, and we’re not ending this. Is that all?”

“Is what all?”

“You don’t want to feel stupid?”

Her nose wrinkles as she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and drops her gaze again. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the shy bits of her that peek out here and there, but I’m learning that I like them just as much as her loud, confident bits. Whether she roars or whispers, she’s still beautiful, strong, and uniquely perfect to me.

“What else would it be?”

My eyes roll to the ceiling with my sigh. She likes to do this every now and then, answer my question with one of her own. It’s how she avoids any serious conversation that might force us to address where things are heading, or at least where I want them to head.

So with a dopey grin, I clasp a fistful of her hoodie and tug. She comes tumbling into me, grasping my biceps to catch herself, and I angle her face up to mine.

“You’re fuckin’ infuriating sometimes, sunshine. You know that, don’t you?”

There it is, right there in the corner, the hint of a smile. Her dimples start pulling in, and when her beam blooms across her face, I wanna kiss them right off her cheeks.

“I’m no one’s sunshine.”

“Fuck, I love when you’re wrong.” My mouth covers hers, coaxing it open, and her tongue meets mine for a slow, sweeping kiss. “You’re my sunshine.”