A low whistle cuts the air as I settle the squat bar back on the rack.
Turning to glance over my shoulder, I smirk at Damien. “Like what you see?”
The corners of his mouth turn upward. “More than you know, Henderson.”
I laugh, toss my towel over my shoulder, and move toward him. “I’ve never seen you work out here before.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, sitting down on a bench. “I usually work out at the arena—”
“Right.”
“But since it’s about forty minutes away and I’m on summer holiday…” He takes a swig of his water.
“This is more convenient,” I finish his sentence.
“And has better views.” His eyes zero in on my ass and I laugh again.
If it was any other guy, I’d blow him off. I hate cheesy lines and obnoxious flirting. But with Damien, it’s more playful than serious. It’s as if he’s trying to get me to laugh more than make me feel uncomfortable.
It’s…easy. Even me throwing myself at him, a little bit drunk and a lot desperate, and looking like a fool—first weeping, then kissing him—hasn’t diminished how comfortable I feel in his presence.
It’s been a handful of days since Damien agreed to be my plus-one and, instead of backing out or trying to put space between us, he’s gone out of his way to see me more.
I sit down across from him and stretch out.
“You almost done?” He selects the dumbbells he needs and settles into a set of Arnold presses.
“Yeah.” I roll out my neck. “Hitting the showers.”
Damien snorts, his eyes flashing to mine.
“That wasn’t an invitation,” I toss out, partly wishing it was.
Gah! What is wrong with me? Clearly, I’m having sex withdrawals. I could have taken Jeremiah up on his last offer but—no, not going there.
My nice, considerate neighbor has agreed to do me a solid and instead of being thankful for that, I’m ogling him. But, damn, Damien Barnes is hot.
Of course, I Googled him after I clued into who he is and…the internet does not do the man justice. On the ice, he’s fire.
But up close and personal…Damien is an inferno.
He grunts as he shifts exercises and I try not to drool.
Damien has dark hair, a brownish-black, that is clipped short on the sides and back but left longer on top. Usually, he works product through it but right now, at the gym, it’s natural. Soft. The kind of hair I could run my fingers through.
He drops the dumbbells and moves over to the squat rack. I should move. I should go. I do nothing of the sort.
“You sure?” He looks over, his bicep popping as he maneuvers the weight.
“About what?” I force my eyes up to his.
He smirks, his green eyes bright with amusement. “The invitation?”
I groan, smacking myself in the forehead. How obvious am I?
Damien chuckles, the sound easy, as he begins to squat.
“Jesus,” I mutter, my eyes glued to his ass.
His shoulders shake with silent laughter since he knows exactly what I’m doing.
I sit down on the bench he vacated and stare, too impressed to be properly embarrassed because— “You should never work out here again.”
Another snicker as he racks the bar. Tossing an arm over the top, he leans forward. “Too distracting?” He runs a palm over the stubble coating his jawline and the raspy sound rings in my ears like a motorcycle.
Damien Barnes is more than distracting. He’s downright captivating and he knows it.
“Too everything,” I admit, moving my hand in a circle to encompass his entire being. I stare straight at him, the teasing gone from my tone.
Damien holds my gaze, his eyes boring into mine with a seriousness he doesn’t usually show. “Have lunch with me today.”
“I—okay,” I agree, trying to keep up with the conversation shift.
“I’ll be done in an hour. I’ll knock on your door.”
I scurry to stand. “I’ll be ready.”
He smiles. “You already look beautiful, Henderson. Don’t overdo it or I’ll have to compete with all the other men checking you out.”
I scoff. As if there’s any competition when he’s around?
I grab my water bottle and move toward the exit. “One hour?” I confirm, glancing over my shoulder.
Damien is blatantly checking out my ass and I blush. His eyes roll to mine slowly, not embarrassed for being caught. “One hour.”
I exit the gym, taking my time to enter the elevator and press the button for my floor. But once the door to my apartment is locked behind me, I spring into action.
One hour! I sprint into the bathroom and waste an absurd amount of time trying to peel my sweaty sports bra off before flinging myself in the shower. While the hot water beats down on my body, I mentally flip through my closet for clothing options that balance fun with friendship.
I may enjoy Damien Barnes’s light teasing and flirty personality. I may have kissed him in a moment of recklessness. But I can’t cross any serious lines.
I can’t fall for him.
Because he told me up front that he doesn’t do serious. Or girlfriends. Or commitment.
He’s a Good Samaritan helping out a neighbor in need.
And I’m a girl who doesn’t let my guard down often but when I do…I go all in. I’ve always been an all-or-nothing kind of woman. With relationships, which is why my experience is capped at three boyfriends—two in middle school followed by Sean. With friendships, which is why I don’t have many close bonds in Tennessee. With exercise; I run every morning or not at all for weeks on end. Even with school; I was completing extra credit assignments or barely getting by. Moderation is tough for me, and Damien is way too tempting. If I invest in him, in having a relationship with him, I’ll be devastated when he eventually ends it. I’ll be even emptier than I am now.
Can’t. Go. There.
Can’t compromise for anything less than all. The next relationship I commit to will be serious, meaningful, real.
When Damien turns his flashing eyes and sexy smirk my way, I need to remember that this is nothing more than a budding friendship with a side of fun.
My heart rate accelerates as I blow-dry my hair. My stomach knots as I slip into a simple sundress that ruffles around my knees and ties on the tops of my shoulders. My breathing ticks up as I slide my feet into sandals and spritz perfume on my inner wrists.
This is lunch, not a date.
He’s my neighbor, not my boyfriend.
But then Damien Barnes knocks on my door, and I pull it open.
Surprise widens his eyes as he drinks me in like water during a drought. “Damn, Henderson. You look sexy as hell.”
I blush. I swoon. I may even fall a little.
And all my desperate reminders die a thousand deaths.
Because I want Damien Barnes in ways I’ve never wanted a man before. A part of my lonely, desperate heart wants him for keeps.
“How long have we been dating?” he asks over a pitcher of margaritas and an assortment of tacos.
We’re at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants and I’m trying—and failing—to play it cool. If I scare Damien off now, I’ll lose my date and fail to save face. I just need to get through the next two weeks, the reunion, and then, I can add some distance between myself and my too-hot-for-his-own-good neighbor.
I clear my throat. “I think it’s best we stick to facts as much as possible.”
“So…two weeks?” He lifts his eyebrows.
I sigh; he’s right. We definitely need to embellish. “Seven months.”
“Then why weren’t you at any of my games?” He points at me with an accusing finger.
I snort. “We were keeping it quiet. Low-key.”
“Five months,” he decides. “No one knows where the hell they stand the first few months in a relationship but then, once labels are slapped on, they like to backtrack and pretend it was for real from the start.”
I pause, thinking that over. “You’re right.”
“I know,” he agrees confidently, popping a chip in his mouth. “This place is incredible.”
“Hidden gem.”
“I need to hang with you more, Henderson.”
“Facts,” I agree, trying to appear half as confident as Damien. But his words, the way I want to believe them, sends a shiver of anticipation through my body.
“So, five months?”
I nod. “Five months.”
“We met the way we did in real life.”
“Yeah, except I wasn’t swearing at the night.”
Damien chuckles. “Nah. I was spying on you.”
I lift an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue.
“Checked you out for weeks, trying to get you to look up at me. But you always played it so cool.” He huffs, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “So, after weeks of waiting, I finally worked up the courage to—”
“No,” I cut him off. “No one will believe that you were too scared to approach me.”
He looks up from his taco, salsa dripping onto his fingers. “Why not?”
“Why not?” I sputter. Shaking my head, I gesture toward him. “Look at you…and then look at me.”
His eyes darken. “Staring straight at you, babe. Trust me, I’d need to work up the courage to chat you up.”
I laugh, partly in disbelief, partly in nerves. “No way.”
“Fine.” Damien sits back in his chair. “At a bar? Nah, I’d approach you because…it’s a bar and whatever. But if I really wanted a shot with you, a woman like you—”
“A woman like me?”
“Smart, confident, sexy, independent…” He rattles the adjectives off so quickly, my head spins. “I’d need a game plan.”
“So…you spied?”
“Hell yeah.” He grins. “And one night, when you walked out onto your balcony, I—”
“Whistled?”
He wrinkles his nose. “I’m a flirt but I wouldn’t veer into cat-calling.”
I dip my head in agreement.
“I made up some stupid issue with my apartment to see if you had the same issue,” he carries on, fabricating this story with such confidence that I half believe him. He snaps his fingers. “A water issue.”
“Water?”
“Yeah. So, we get to talking, small talk kind of shit, and I invite you up for a drink.”
“And I come up and…realize you made the whole water thing up when I use your bathroom and wash my hands…”
“And you call me on it because you’re totally the kind of woman that calls a man on his shit.”
I laugh. “That’s believable.”
“And I shrug and admit I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks.” His tone is earnest, his expression sweet.
“And I love that you’re honest about it so we…”
“Have a drink,” he states. “These high schoolers don’t need to know you put out on the first date.”
My mouth drops open. “Firstly, they’re adults.”
“Are they?” He arches an eyebrow and I hear the insinuation. If everyone was grown up and acting like adults, my going to the reunion wouldn’t be terrifying.
“Secondly, I didn’t put out—”
“That kiss was fire.”
I blush. “It wasn’t a date.”
“In this fictional world we’re building, it was the first of many.”
I blow out a shaky breath, more affected by Damien than I want to be. “Okay, so, we had a drink.”
“Mojitos,” he confirms. I give him a look and he leans closer. “Someone will ask.”
“Have you done this before?” I gesture between us, insinuating our fake relationship.
“Only for the sisters and cousins of my friends.” He leans back. “Never for a woman I’m actually attracted to.”
My blush deepens.
“And I just grew up in a petty-as-fuck town. I’ve spent more of the last decade being tossed into galas and events where everyone looks like a million dollars but isn’t worth a penny.”
“Harsh.”
“Call it like I see it, babe.”
I squirm in my chair. Damien calling me “babe” shouldn’t affect me. Nothing about this fake date, this regular lunch, should affect me. “Then what?”
“Then…we started dating. We kept it casual at first but once the team didn’t qualify for the Second Round, we naturally started spending more time together and…”
“Here we are, at a ten-year high-school reunion.”
“May I add that we’re the best dressed?” He tips his head, picking up his margarita.
“You may.” I clink my glass against his. “Because I was voted best dressed in high school.”
Damien laughs and takes a long pull. “I was voted biggest flirt.”
I grin. “I can totally see it.”