Playing for Keeps(23)

 

Elise isn’t some fan-girl who drools all over me, or idolizes the ground I walk on. In a way, it’s been refreshing to be told no. She doesn’t care who I am, or what I can do with a stick and a six-ounce disk of hard rubber. I’m just Justin to her. She’s doing this on her terms, and it only makes me want to chase her more.

 

Owen is still talking, and I’m trying like hell to listen, but the memory of my conversation with Elise about exclusivity pops into my head and I have to hold in a chuckle. I still haven’t gotten the story of exactly why that topic came up, but I have a feeling there was something said during brunch with her girlfriends that made her go all possessive-territorial over my cock. And fuck if I don’t like that. It’s all hers, she can have it for as long as she wants it. There is no one else I want more than Elise, which made it very easy to agree to her terms. Plus, the thought of her with another man? Fuck that. I want to be the one to please her, and spend time with her, and provide all the orgasms she can handle.

 

“You done?” Owen asks, standing over me.

 

I’m pretty sure I spaced out five minutes ago and have just been laying on the mat rather than stretching. I straighten and sit up. “Yeah, I’m good.”

 

I grab my towel and my water bottle and we make our way to the showers.

 

After stripping down, we grab a few towels from the stack and each head into a shower stall. Each shower is divided by a half-wall, so the tops and bottoms are open.

 

Owen tests the water before stepping in, while I crank mine to the hottest it will go and ease myself under the spray.

 

“I texted Elise and invited her over for dinner tonight. You going to be around?” Owen asks as I rub shampoo into my hair.

 

I will now. “Yeah. Sure.” I silently congratulate myself on my casual tone. Even if I hate the idea of sneaking around Owen to get to Elise, at least for right now, it’s a necessity.

 

On the way home, Owen’s driving, so I fire off a quick text to Elise.

 

I hear you’re coming for dinner tonight.

 

It only takes her a few seconds to reply.

 

Owen talked me in to cooking. Are you going to be home?

 

I shoot back. I’ll eat anything you spread in front of me. :)

 

Back at home, I tidy up my bedroom, even though it’s a slim chance in hell Elise will even see it. But still, I have a girl coming over. A girl I like very much. Even if she is Owen’s sister, a man can hope.

 

We’d texted all week trying to make plans to see each other before I fly out to the Midwest for the next couple of days, but so far, this appears to be our best and maybe only opportunity.

 

Too bad we have a freaking chaperone tonight.

 

Owen runs to the grocery store, and I have this secret fantasy that he’ll still be gone when Elise arrives, but no such luck. He returns with three bags of groceries which I help him unload on the counters. We usually take turns shopping so everything stays fair. There’s ground beef, onion, garlic, dried pasta and all the fixings for salad.

 

“Italian?” I ask, removing two bottles of red wine from the last bag.

 

“Yeah. I asked Elise to make our mom’s recipe for lasagna. I’ve been craving it for weeks.”

 

“Cool.” I knew Elise could cook. She occasionally gets talked into making something for Owen, but I find myself cataloging this information away as just one more thing I like about her. The thought of her all domestic in the kitchen, feeding me is a happy one. Owen and I spent way too much time eating out, especially while on the road.

 

Elise arrives a short time later, knocking once and then letting herself inside. “Hey,” she says, smiling as she enters. She’s dressed in a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with the name of the school she teaches at emblazoned across the front. The idea of her wrangling a group of chaotic four-year-olds is one that also makes me smile. She’s got the whole nurturing thing down to a science…both with the little kids she works with and within our friend circle.

 

She removes her rainboots at the door and then heads inside. With only a passing glance at me, she greets Owen, giving him a hug.

 

“What am I making?” she asks.

 

He chuckles. “Mom’s lasagna.”

 

She grins and rubs her hands together. “Yum. Okay. It’ll take a while though. Can you wait?”

 

Owen nods. “I bought wine. And I can make salad and breadsticks. So yeah, we are good.”

 

Elise nods and then takes one more glance my way, her eyes lingering on mine, longer this time. “Hey, Justin.”

 

“Hello, Elise.” Her name comes out deeper than I intended.

 

Fuck, this feels weird.

 

I can only hope Owen has no idea how formal and awkward we sound. I’d give anything to go up to her and kiss her, but instead I take a seat at one of the barstools at the counter.

 

Owen uncorks a bottle of wine and pours three glasses.

 

I accept mine and take a sip. “What can I help with?” I ask.

 

Elise surveys her surroundings, cataloging the items Owen’s brought home. Then she grabs a wooden cutting board and places it in front of me. “Can I trust you with a chef’s knife?”

 

I don’t cook. And apparently Elise knows this.

 

“I think so, I mean, I can catch and control a puck with the edge of a wooden stick traveling at a hundred miles an hour, so lay it on me.”

 

She chuckles and then grabs the lettuce and the vegetables for the salad. “Then why don’t you get to work on this?”

 

“I can handle that.”

 

We exchange one more look before Elise gets busy. Owen has retreated to the other side of the kitchen and is placing frozen breadsticks onto a baking sheet, which means I get to watch Elise and hopefully not cut my damn fingers off.

 

She chops an onion while the beef browns in a skillet on the gas range. The oven is preheating and a mixture of tomatoes and garlic simmers over another burner.

 

She’s certainly comfortable in the kitchen, and I like watching her work much more than I thought I would. I was half-worried that tonight would be torture—an exercise in look but don’t touch—a concept I’m not very good at. But I’m having more fun than I expected.

 

“What else can I do?” Owen asks, taking a sip of his wine as he surveys our progress.

 

Elise glances around the kitchen. “I’m done with that sauté pan if you want to wash it. Otherwise, I think we’re good.”

 

Following her orders, Owen grabs the pan and takes it to the sink where he begins scrubbing it with hot, soapy water.

 

Elise and I are quiet, and I sense she wishes it was just the two of us almost as badly as I do. Once the sauté pan has been washed and dried, Owen retreats to the couch with his glass of wine and the sports highlights to keep him company.

 

I finish the salad prep with no bloodshed, but since I’m not ready to leave the kitchen, I grab my phone and pretend to be scrolling through social media while I’m watching Elise’s ass as she moves around the kitchen. There’s something about her dressed in leggings that my cock likes way too much. The stretchy black material leaves very little to the imagination. When she reaches up to grab a dish on the top shelf, my gaze tracks down over the curve of her soft hips.

 

I know I’m torturing myself, but damn, I love her body.

 

Once Elise has everything under control, she picks up her wineglass and takes a long drink. I get the sense that she’s purposefully avoiding looking my direction. She grabs three plates from the cabinet and the silverware from a drawer. Once everything is on the table and the timer is set, Elise heads into the living room.

 

I follow her, taking a seat on the couch beside Owen, and directly across from her.

 

Owen and Elise are discussing Becca in low tones while I pretend to dick around on my phone some more. Who knew it would be this difficult pretending?

 

I’m struck by a sudden realization. I don’t just like all the physical stuff with her, I like just hanging out with her too. I guess it’s not all that strange, I’ve been friends with her for so long. But I guess it’s the first time I can picture myself being in a real relationship, picture myself having a girlfriend. Picture myself wanting more. And for once, the thought of being tied down doesn’t give me hives. I can imagine us cooking together, cuddling on the couch while dinner simmers in the kitchen.

 

“Are you seeing anyone new?” Owen asks her, drawing me from my private thoughts.

 

Elise shakes her head. “No. I just want to keep things casual for a while. I’m young, you know? I don’t want to tie myself down to one man.”

 

Owen nods. “Smart.” His eyes leave the TV and meet hers. “You are young. I wouldn’t want to see you get all serious with the first real relationship you have.”

 

Elise is staring straight ahead at the TV, and I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking. “I totally agree. I’m all about casual these days.”

 

Her remarks have left me feeling slightly unsettled, but I can’t put my finger on why.

 

Finally, it’s time to eat, and we help ourselves to generous portions of the meal. It looks and smells amazing.