“Hey neighbor.” The crunch of him biting into something echoes behind me. “I like those shorts on you. They ride just high enough to give me a peek at the bottom of your ass when you bend over.”
“What do you want, Hollis?”
Another bite. He answers with his mouth full. “Can’t a guy be friendly with his neighbor? What if I was looking to borrow a cup of sugar? Would you really turn me down like that?”
Knowing he’s not going to go away anytime soon, I face him, adding one hand to my hip. The corner of his mouth smirks, making my little girly heart skip a beat. There is an apple in his hand and I watch in fascination as he brings it up to his mouth and bites down, taking out a huge chunk. Why is watching him eat turning me on?
“There is no need for you to have a cup of sugar right now.”
Rolling his eyes, he says, “Fine, a cup of your fine ass was what I was really looking for but I was trying to be polite. So, what do you say?”
“No.”
“No? You’re not even going to think about it?” He swaggers a little closer to me, and continues, “All right, I get it, you’re more into a tradeoff. Fair enough. I will trade you a cup of your ass for a cup of mine.” He puts his hand out and squeezes the air, indicating his intensions.
“I have no desire to cup your ass.”
His brow furrows. “I don’t believe that for one second.” He turns and pops his ass out toward me. I glance down for a second and take in his warm-up-covered bubble butt. Damn it. He does have a nice ass. No, that’s an understatement; he has an amazing ass. Its round, sticks out just enough to make any girl weak in the knees and it’s firm—at least it looks firm. “Go ahead, give it a squeeze. Free, on the house, no strings attached.” He does a come-hither look while motioning with his head to take advantage of squeezing him.
“Tempting, but I’ll pass.”
Standing straight, clearly not affected by my rejection, he takes another bite of his apple. “Nervous you’re going to fall in love? That I will ruin all men for you? Yeah, that’s happened before.” He points to his head with this finger, tapping his temple. “Smart, wait it out just a little bit longer. Weigh your options, just know, pudding puss, you can’t do any better.”
Instead of responding, I go back to packing up, which is less packing and more of me moving things around and busying myself since I’ve already packed all my things.
“So, how long have you been styling hair?”
Ugh, small talk. I hate small talk.
“Long enough to get me this job.”
“I see.” He steps closer, closing in on what little space is between us. There is a tap on my shoulder and when I turn around, he’s inches away, holding out his apple. “Want a bite?”
Eyeing the half-eaten fruit, I shake my head. “Do you really think I would want to share your half-eaten apple?”
He shrugs casually. “I don’t know. Might be sexy, you know, having both our mouths on it and all. If you want, I can go all Lady and the Tramp on you and we can both nibble on it, meeting in the middle.” Suggestively, he wiggles his eyebrows at me.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tilt my head to the side and study him. “You really don’t give up, do you? Even when it’s obvious I have no intentions of sleeping with you.”
My heart catches in my throat as he lifts his hand and tucks a stray hair behind my ear before cupping my jaw, his face turning serious. “This isn’t just about sleeping with you, Melony. This is about getting to know you; when I find something I like, I go after it.” Why does the sudden intensity and timbre of his voice send unwanted tingles south? Why? Why can’t he be hideously unattractive?
Swallowing a little nervously, I respond, “Even if it’s un-gettable?” Please back off. Please back off.
“If the end result is you? Then yes.” Fuck.
Winking, he drops his hand from my jaw, bites into his apple, and parts from our close proximity, leaving me feeling slightly charged, a feeling I don’t want.
“Catch you around, neighbor,” he calls out.
God, he is sexy, I will give him that.
His retreating back gives me an amazing view of that bubble ass of his. If he didn’t just admit to wanting to get to know me, I just might have considered jumping in bed with him for a one-time night of what I can only imagine being hours upon hours of pleasure.
Too bad I don’t do relationships. Will never do relationships. I’ll never be that naïve girl.
Chapter Five
HOLLIS
The phone rings through my ear buds and I silently hope she picks up.
First ring.
Second ring.
Fuck, she’s not going to answer.
Third ring.
On the fourth, just when I think the voicemail is going to pick up, she answers.
“Hey, Hollis.”
Just hearing her voice soothes the rage blasting through me. She has that effect on me. Ever since we were little, she’s been my rock. Even when she lost everything, she’s held strong for me.
“Hey, Holly. Thanks for picking up.”
Her light laugh echoes through the phone. “Of course I would pick up. I always do, don’t I?”
She does, but there is always fear in the back of my head that she won’t, especially during this time of the year with trials right around the corner. The burning question that will forever hang over me rears its ugly head every time Olympic Trials loom closer.
Does she resent me?
“You do.” I have to talk to someone and talking to my parents isn’t an option since the sun beams out of their asses and nothing ever fazes them. Negativity doesn’t exist in their world. Pretty sure they’re the presidents of denial city, but hey, if it works for them I’m not going to shatter their little bubble.
Reese I can talk to but he doesn’t quite understand the diving world even though swimming and diving are so close.
And then there is Holly. She knows everything about the diving world. She knows what it takes to become an Olympian, hell, she was one . . . until the accident.
“What’s going on? From the sullen tone of your voice, I can tell something is bothering you.” She reads me so well. I want to believe it’s because she’s my twin.
Lying in the sun trying to soak in the heat rays, my eReader on my lap, my water bottle next to me, I should feel relaxed. Should. I run my hand over my face. “Fuck, Holl, I don’t know if I can continue with this training load. Coach Ted is making my life miserable.”
“Are you sure that’s what this is about? Coach Ted?”
“What else would it be about?”
“Well, I can’t imagine training being any different than your previous years leading up to the games, but I do know one thing that’s different.”
“The fact that I haven’t had sex in months?” I ask, trying to joke around because I see where she’s heading with this conversation. The twin connection and all.
“One, that’s disgusting, don’t talk about sex with me. Two, that’s pathetic, even I’ve been twiddled in the past few months.”
“Fuck, Holly. Don’t say that.” I cringe. She laughs some more, and the sound is so sweet. Reminds me of our childhood, before everything was complicated.
“Well, don’t bring it up. It’s your own damn fault. You should know better by now.”
“You’re right, I deserved it. But shit, you should know how sensitive I am.”
“Yeah, you little pussy.” There is light in her voice, causing me to smile.
“So tell me, Dr. Phil, what is it that you think I’ve suffering from?”
She doesn’t even skip a beat when she answers. “You miss Coach Wilson. This is your first trials without him by your side, cheering you on, coddling you.” Shit, I do love being coddled. Coach Ted doesn’t even know what the word means. “You miss him.”
“I do, but that’s not just it. Coach Ted is a fucking prick, Holly. I spent four hours on the mats yesterday practicing my take-offs. Four fu
cking hours. I wasn’t even flipping. I was just walking, jumping, or doing a handstand.” I could barely lift my arms to dry myself this morning. Asshole.
“Well, how are your take-offs?”
“Fucking fine. Nothing I need to be spending an infinite amount of hours on.”
“Infinite amount of hours? I thought it was just four?”
“Felt infinite,” I huff out.
“If you don’t like Coach Ted, then why have you stuck around with him? You could have been with Sherry.”
Yeah, fucking right. There was no way in hell I would be using Sherry. Not because she’s younger than Coach Ted, hot, and walks around in yoga pants like it’s her damn job, but because she coached Holly. There is too much emotion there, too much resentment. Sherry wouldn’t do me justice; I just fucking know it. I’ve only seen her a few times since the accident and I know she blames me, I know she sees me as the one who should have been injured, not Holly. I already live with enough guilt. I don’t need to look into her eyes every day and call her coach as she stares me down, wishing I was the one out of the game, not my sister.
No fucking thank you.
“Sherry and I don’t click.”
“Maybe because you stare at her ass every time you see her.”
True. That’s very fucking true. But for a good reason. She’s had four kids and despite the amount of times she’s popped a human out of her vaginal canal, she still has a fine ass worth staring at.
“That’s not it.” Not wanting this to be awkward, I continue. “I don’t know, Holly. I’ve just felt off this go around. It doesn’t feel right.”
She sighs into the phone. Am I frustrating her? Look at me being a fucking priss when she can’t even dive anymore. “You know what, never mind,” I say, trying to change the conversation. “I think I can figure it out. Uh, how’s everything over there?”
“Don’t,” she says sternly in the phone. Even though she’s five minutes older than me, she still treats me like her baby brother, lecturing me with her harsh tone. “Don’t change the topic. You always do this.”
“Always do what?” I feign innocence even though I know she’s about to catch me red-handed.
“You always want to talk to me about your diving but then after a few minutes you quickly change the subject, as if you don’t want to hurt my feelings for bringing it up.”
“That’s not the case,” I lie. “I just didn’t want to bore you with my petty problems.”
“And what, do I have bigger problems than you?”
The fact that you’re paralyzed from the waist down? Yeah, I’m positive she has bigger problems than me but I don’t say that. In fact, why do I think she merely resents me? The bitterness she deserves to feel goes beyond resentment.
“No, I just . . .” I take a gulp of my water that rests next to me and try to tamp down the anxiety rising in my chest. “Can we not fight right now? I didn’t call you so you can be mad at me, again.”
“Well, then stop treating me like a fucking invalid and talk to me, Hollis.”
Knowing she’s not going to back down, I concede. “Fine, I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve been feeling off. My training leading up to the games is not my regular routine I had with Coach Wilson. The only reason I’ve stayed with Coach Ted is because I feel like he’s the last piece of Coach Wilson left on this earth. I’m sore as shit, sick of working on the mats, and the girl I want to get to know wants nothing to do with me.”
She’s silent for a second and then starts chuckling. She’s actually laughing at me, at my expense. If I wasn’t so happy to hear the sound of her happiness coming through the phone, I would be mad at her.
“What’s so fucking funny?”
“A girl is saying no to you? That explains the sex drought. Never thought I would see the day someone doesn’t fall for your idiotic charm.”
“It’s not that she’s not falling. I see the way she looks at me.”
“Oh, and how’s that?” Holly asks, challenging me.
“You know . . . with lust in her eyes.”
Another burst of laughter. “Oh Jesus. Hollis, you need to stop reading those novels of yours.”
“It’s true. She’s interested, I can tell. Shit, how could she not be interested?”
“So modest.”
“There is something holding her back. I just don’t know what it is.”
“Could it possibly be that she’s in fact not interested, and you can’t see that because your ego is clouding your vision?”
“No, that can’t be it,” I say matter-of-factly.
“You’re ridiculous. So, you’re feeling off because some girl doesn’t want to be in a relationship with you?” My sister knows me well. I’m not the kind of guy that goes around fucking women, never have been. I prefer to spoil someone, to cuddle them at night, to mold my soul with theirs. I like being in a relationship. I mean, why the fuck wouldn’t you want to be in one? There is something so fucking amazing about being able to connect with another human being not only on an intimate level, but on an emotional one as well.
“Maybe. I think it’s a combination of everything.” I run my hand over my face. “Fuck, it seems so stupid.”
“It is.” She laughs. “Do you want my advice?”
“If I say no, you’re still going to give it to me.”
She chuckles. “Only because you called me looking for it.” So true, I pretty much thrive off my sister’s advice. “Talk to Coach Ted, tell him how you’re feeling and how you like to be trained. You’re a two-time Olympian, two-gold-medal winner, Hollis, so you have worked out what makes you perform at your best. You have earned that right to ask your coach for what helps you perform at your best. If he is aware of what you want from him, I bet you anything he’ll change up tactics and start canoodling you like you enjoy.”
“I really enjoy being spooned by my coach. It makes me feel special.”
She sighs. “Now regarding the girl in your life, give it up. If she can’t see that you’re an amazing man then she’s not worth your time.”
“Aw, Holls—”
“Don’t. Accept that compliment and don’t make a big deal out of it.” Sometimes I wonder if she’s the guy and I’m the girl in our twin lives. Could quite possibly be the truth . . . “And as for Coach Wilson. There is not much you can do there besides think about him every day and make him proud. He worked hard to make you the man you are today, so honor him.”
And this is why I called my sister; she knows the right words to say. The words I need to hear.
“Thanks, Holls.” I’m silent for a second before saying, “Mom said you’ll be at trials.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“And Rio, if I make it?”
I hold my breath waiting on her answer. She has to be there, she’s my fucking rock.
“Not if, but when you make it to Rio, I’ll be there as well. You know I’m your number-one fan, Hollis.”
I briefly shut my eyes from the sentiment in her voice. Despite everything that’s happened, she’s still there supporting me, loving me, sharing in my successes . . . the successes she was supposed to have.
I open my eyes and catch sight of a familiar figure.
“If that’s all you wanted to talk about, I have to go. I have physical therapy shortly.”
Watching the familiar figure walk around in the bathing suit cover-up, I straighten in my chair and say, “That’s it for me. Love you, Holly.”
“Love you, too, Hollis.”
She hangs up just as Melony, the fucking bronze beauty, sits down, one lounge chair separating us. She must not have noticed me because she doesn’t seem to be running away. Every other encounter we’ve had, she couldn’t wait to end our conversation. She’s definitely not good for any man’s ego.
In fascination, I watch as she pulls water, a magazine, and some dried fruit out of her bag and sets it next to her. Her sunglasses are round and touch the tops of her cheeks, giving her a sexy vibe that I’m totally dig
ging. Beneath the black cover-up that’s practically see-through, I can see she’s wearing a neon-blue two-piece. The color bounces off her bronze skin.
Taking advantage of our proximity, knowing we could have a conversation and no one would be able to hear us, I say, “Hey neighbor.”
From my voice, she jumps in her seat and turns to face me, a shocked look on her face.
“When did you get here? Did you follow me?”
Why does she constantly think I’m following her around? Does she really assume I have nothing better to do with my life?
“On the contrary, fish nipple, I’ve been here for about an hour. So you’re the one who’s following me.”
Skipping over everything I’ve said, she fixates on one word. “Fish nipple?”
“Yeah, it’s a term of endearment.”
“How the hell is that a term of endearment?”
I think about it for a second. Fish nipple. Huh, it’s kind of not the best at all.
I shrug. “I read it in a book.”
“What book would that be?” She’s fucking talking to me. Even though I’m about to divulge a big secret of mine, I don’t care because she’s talking to me.
“A book called Anything But Minor by Kate Stewart. It’s about a minor league baseball player making his way to the big leagues.”
“Is this fiction?”
“Sure.” I swallow hard. “Also a sports romance.”
That catches her attention. She sits up and leans in my direction. If only her cover-up was a little lower, I would be able to see her cleavage. Fucking thing, there is no point for women to wear them. You either wear your suit or you don’t. Don’t fucking tease men with these stupid see-through short dresses. They’re asinine.
“You read romance?” The look on her face is full of disbelief.
“On occasion.” I pass it off as nothing.
“I don’t buy it. Let me see your eReader.”
“I don’t have it with me.” My mouth twists to the side as if I’m truly bummed I can’t share my eReader with her.
“Then what’s that on your lap?” She points to my black-case-covered eReader . . . right there on my lap. Shit. Good fucking work, Knightly.