JustinShe’s worried she’s going to turn into a crazy old cat lady,” Owen says, frowning.
I pause, weighing his words as my brain scram- bles to catch up. “Who are we talking about again?” To say I’m a little distracted would be a massive understatement.
“Becca,” he says with a tone that asks if I’ve been following his story at all.
Shit. After finishing my last rep, I set the weights that I’ve been lifting down and heave out an exhale. “Does she even own a cat?”
“Nope,” Owen confirms, grabbing two forty- pound dumbbells and taking a seat on the bench beside mine. “I told her that it’s fucking ridicu-
lous.”
I knew only a little bit of Becca’s history. It wasn’t something she liked to broadcast to our friend group, but I knew she was a sexual assault survivor. The keyword there was survivor. Owen once said the word victim in Elise’s presence, and she almost castrated him.
Becca seemed normal enough. She wasn’t timid around men, at least not within our group of friends, but apparently she hadn’t been out on a date in two years and Owen had called her on it. Which led to them having a whole discussion, which leads to this moment where Owen is replay- ing the entire thing to me while we work out.
I grab my towel from the bench and wipe the sweat from the back of my neck.
His story is a welcome distraction, because I’ve spent the last several days replaying my time with Elise like a song on repeat.
I may be at the gym inside our training facil- ity, but my mind? It’s still firmly on last Saturday night, the night I spent in Elise’s bed. I can’t stop thinking about her soft skin, or the way she felt in my arms, or the things she can do with her mouth… I’ve thought about that a lot too, specifically in the
frequent showers I’ve been taking since last Sat- urday.
I’ve also been replaying that weird conversa- tion we had, and the fact that she compared herself to a random hookup.
I haven’t had the chance to see her since then. She’s been busy with work and other personal commitments. Part of me is a little thrown off by this. To be honest I’m not used to women being too busy to see me, or turning me down for sex— which she did the morning we woke up together. Granted maybe she really was too sore, but some- how I don’t think that’s the whole story.
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 do- ing 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 posses- sive-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 ar- rives, but no such luck. He returns with three bags of groceries which I help him unload on the coun- ters. 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 occasion- ally 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.