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Shrugging, Cornell ran a hand over his face. “I can’t think about it right now. We still have half a season left. Plenty of time for me to mess up if he hands me the reigns again.” Ali looked at him confused. “What?”
“It’s not like you to back away from a challenge.”
He bit the inside of his cheek. I’d be lying if I said I had my head in the game lately. I haven’t exactly proved I really deserve it.
“I’m not. I’m just taking it one game at a time. You know me, I love a challenge. I went after you, didn’t I?” Cornell winked.
Ali pressed her lips together, her eyes drifting toward the entry closet. “Up for a challenge now? I’ve got an idea that might help you burn some of that extra energy.”
“What’s that?”
He had a feeling, based on the look in Ali’s eyes—the slight shift and darkening of her warm, brown orbs—that he knew the answer to his own question already. Cornell was aware—just as much as she was—that for obvious reasons, they hadn’t had sex in over a month. But there was more. Ali and Cornell also hadn’t approached the conversation.
What’s there to say?He would wonder. Cornell could continue waiting. If Ali told him it would take six months or a year, he might even suggest waiting longer. Probably not long enough of penance for letting her get hurt in the first place.
Swallowing, Cornell realized another thing. I don’t know if I can. Anxiety and fear took up copious amounts of mental real estate in his head, which kept a tight, taut leash on his body’s ordinarily physical response to Ali. If there’s a surefire way to kill a libido, it’s picturing all the possible ways of someone trying to violate your girlfriend.
He watched Ali open the closet. “Where did you get Twister?”
“Aisle eight at Walmart.” Ali smirked. “I thought you could help me stretch out. I want to go back to yoga tomorrow.” She tilted her head playfully. “How about a game?”
“I don’t think that’s fair. Your center of gravity is a foot lower than mine. And that’s made for kids.”
Ali clicked her tongue. “That doesn’t sound like the attitude of a head coach.”
Cornell glanced between the box and Ali’s eyes, unable to ignore the playful, flirty glean. He stood, pushing the coffee table to the side. “Unbox it. I’m gonna whoop your ass.”
Fifteen minutes later, coming off a win, Cornell nearly did just that.
“That’s cheating,” Ali said as he lifted his hand from the yellow circle to grab his beer. “You’re only supposed to take your hand off to spin.”
Cornell looked at her with the bottle to his mouth. “You just thought you had this in the bag.”
Ali reached over, flicking the plastic arrow. “We’re going for two out of three.” She motioned at his leg. “Right foot red.”
“Are you sure?” Cornell’s body was facing up, one foot on yellow, one blue, Ali hovering above him, crouched like a cat.
“I can read colors and symbols.”
He grunted, bringing his foot to an empty spot next to his left hand. “I can’t reach,” Cornell told her. “Spin again.”
“Left hand blue.”
Cornell groaned in relief at being able to untangle his body. Before Ali did the same, she reached for his beer.
“Hey,” he said.
Smiling from behind the bottle, Ali tilted it toward him. “Here.” She placed it to his lips, giggling when some of the cold liquid spilled down his mouth when she pulled it back. “Oops.”
Cornell’s tongue swiped across his lips. “If you think I’m going to move my hand to wipe it, I’m not. I’ll die on this hill. Or this mat.”
Ali put the bottle down and moved her hand to an empty blue circle, which brought her body across his, straddling the space above his thigh. “I’ll help you,” she told him softly, leaning her face closer to kiss a remaining drop of beer from his skin.
“You’re trying to sabotage me.” He bit his lip and hissed when Ali’s lips traveled to his jaw.
“Is it working?” she asked, her warm breath a harsh contrast to the ice-cold beer across his skin.
Yes.“No.”
