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He stretches, pushing the sunglasses to the top of his head before running a hand down his sleepy face. He blinks his eyes a few times and takes a moment to adjust, eventually focusing on me. I close my sketch pad and set it aside.
“How long was I asleep?” he asks, his voice gravelly.
“Over an hour,” I answer.
He glances to his right. “Did Coop and Cruz leave?”
I nod. “About thirty minutes ago.” I pause, debating on whether to add the rest of their message. “They said to call them if you want to go out later tonight.”
He studies my face for a few beats. “You didn’t want to tell me that, did you?”
“Nope.”
“So, why did you?”
“Because you’re a grown man, capable of making your own decisions,” I say.
He looks surprised. “Since when?”
“Since I decided that it was a mistake to try and keep you on a leash. It took me a few days, but I finally figured out that you’re not a man who can be controlled.”
“Is that right?” he says, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the lounger until he’s facing me. He lifts my watered-down drink and takes a sip. His grimace is immediate, and it makes me laugh. “That’s awful.”
“I thought it was good.”
“You would,” he accuses, but he softens it with a grin. “So, if I can’t be controlled, what’s the game plan?” he asks.
“There is no game plan,” I admit. I’m sitting cross-legged, and I pull my feet further beneath me when Sam’s attention drops to my toes. “Don’t look at my feet,” I groan. “I didn’t have time to paint my nails before I left.” And I didn’t have the money to spend on a pedicure, I don’t add.
“What happens if I go crazy on the town tonight with my teammates?”
I shrug. “I guess I’ll track your phone and come get you eventually, try to minimize the damage somehow.”
Sam stares for so long that it becomes uncomfortable. Finally, he looks away. “Where’s your buddy Malachi? I’m starving. Let’s order some food.”
Malachi must be gone because we don’t see him again. But we do get the attention of every female server in the space. Well, Sam gets their attention. But he surprises me again when he doesn’t indulge in it, like I’ve seen him do so many times before.
We eat burgers and drink milkshakes poolside, watching the sunset painting dynamic pink and orange shades across the sky until the sun fades altogether and the outdoor lights engage. The evening should feel pedestrian, but it’s incredibly relaxed and fun and strange, all at once, just Sam and me hanging out. I get an unexpected glimpse at the man beneath the image.
We talk about our days back in college—or what we remember of them. We laugh together. I’m practically in tears when he rehashes the pranks the team used to play on each other. Like the time Charlie McMann, the huge goalie for Sinclair’s team, was the last one in the showers, and a few of the guys stole all the towels and took Charlie’s clothes. He used his goalie mask and a cardboard sign he found to cover his unmentionables while he rummaged around the arena for something to wear. But not before running into the entire coaching staff and the cheerleading squad in the hallways.
Sam even opens up a little about his time in Anaheim, and I sense the trepidation in his words as he talks about the upcoming game at the end of the week. I realize that he’s nervous about playing there for the first time since the scandal.
“What time is it?” Sam asks me.
I lift my phone to look at the clock and see missed texts and calls from Eliott. I darken the screen again. “Ten.”
“Let’s head on up,” Sam suggests.
I’m not sure where the time has gone, but it’s flown by while I was completely unaware of its passing. Without another word, we both rise and gather our things to leave the pool area. We walk into the hotel together, my entire body freezing when the air-conditioning hits my skin.
“You cold?” Sam asks attentively as we move into the elevator.
“A little,” I admit.
“I’d give you my sweatshirt if I had it.”
I’m silent as the lift rises to our floor. Sam waits to let me leave the space before him. This human side that he keeps showing me today has me off-balance. I’m more accustomed to the arrogant athlete he always portrayed in the past. And I’m not sure how to feel about it. Is this his way of manipulating me into doing what he wants? But I already told him I was going to back off.
