SOPHIE BROOKS:
Party, hook-up, hangover, repeat.
I don't do rules, responsibility, or monogamy.
So when the chance to sleep with the hottest Olympian swimmer in the country presents itself, you can be damn sure I take it.
And sneak out before he wa...
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When I come home late Wednesday afternoon, the door is already unlocked.
I asked Jen a few weeks ago if she would be comfortable with Jayden getting a key. She agreed.
So as I kick off my heels and patter into the kitchen, I hear the TV playing in the living room. I glance over my shoulder as I pull a bottle of water from the fridge.
Jayden is reclined on the couch, flipping through the channels with one hand and petting Marshmallow with the other.
Jen's cat - my cat - who absolutely hates people is sprawled out on her back on Jayden's lap, purring like a race car while Jayden runs his fingers over her stomach like she couldn't turn into a murder machine in seconds.
That cat doesn't like anyone, she doesn't even like me, but there she is, exposing herself to Jayden.
Traitor.
I head towards them slowly, fighting the urge to cross my arms like a petulant child whose bestie found someone else to play with.
"Hey, Trouble," Jayden says, looking up at me, a lazy smile stretching at his lips. His eyes run down my body slowly. I'm still in my work clothes, which always seems to get Jayden going.
Well, anything seems to get him going these days.
"Hi." I sink down next to him, placing a short kiss on his lips as he snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me into his side.
I lay my head in the crook of his neck, narrowing my eyes at Marshmallow, who's too consumed in Jayden's hands to notice.
Like a little Judas.
"How was therapy?" Jayden asks, kissing the top of my head as he finds the sports channel, setting the remote down.
He asks this every Wednesday. Since we're officially done with the tutoring - Jayden got a B on his term paper, so he's off academic probation - our new rhythm is that I go to therapy after work, and Jayden comes by my apartment after practice.
I never specifically asked him to do that, but he must have sensed that I need him close on these days. Not to talk about it or anything, but just to feel him here, to feel that he loves me.
It grounds me. Soothes me.
I'm turning into a fucking codependent sap, and I don't even hate it.
Typical.
"It was fine," I say, taking a sip of water.
"What did you talk about?"
He asks me this every Wednesday too. I always give him vague and non-committal answers because part of me isn't ready to talk to him about all that yet.
There is so much to unpack, but with Mallory's help, I'm slowly working through it, and for now, I just need to do that without his help.
"Uhm, just the future and stuff," I answer, avoiding his gaze. I can see his head turn to me in my peripheral vision and feel his eyes burning into the side of my head, but I keep my eyes locked on the basketball game on TV.
