Page 18 of The Other Side of Wild
“Hello?” There’s a gasp on the other end, which makes a small smile form on my lips.
“Excuse me? Who are you, and why are you answering Greyson’s phone.” Eww, her voice is awful. Reminds me of Yzma from The Emperor's New Groove.
“Greyson? I’m sorry honey, I think you have the wrong number.” I look over at Greyson; the side of his mouth pulls into a half smile. I like that I put it there.
“Listen here, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but you need to givemy boyfriendhis phone back.”
“Oh my. Bless your heart.” I say in the most condescending tone I can muster, my head tilting to the side as if she could actually see me. “I don’t know who your boyfriend is, but there is no Greyson here. So, take the hint and lose this number as it ismine.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small twitch on his lips. I throw a wink in his direction, but I’m not done with this woman. “I’m sorry you’ve misplaced your boyfriend. I’m assuming all the random numbered texts I’ve been getting are from you, too. You can go ahead and knock that off as well. Best of luck to you, honey!” I hang up before she can get another word in.
His gaze holds mine for what seems like an eternity. I wonder if he can hear how fast my heart is beating because I certainly can as the blood rushes to my ears. I find my attention falls from his eyes to his lips, questioning if they're as soft as they look. I wondered if he’d run away if I pressed mine to his and if he’d catch me if I started to fall.Wait, no, Hannah. Snap out of it.
I force myself to look away as if the floor holds the key to all life's greatest mysteries. A throat clears, and seconds later, I’m wrapped back up in his arms. “That,” His voice low and warm, “was awesome.” His chuckle vibrates through my body. “Thank you. It’s been a while since someone stood up for me like that.”
I’m torn between staying where I am and bolting out the door. This is dangerous territory; I have plans and goals. And none of them have anything to do with men. “You’re welcome.” I finally managed, and my voice was more breathy than I’d like. I pull away slightly, but his arms squeeze around me, holding me in place for a bit longer than necessary.
His eyes meet mine once again, and I find myself lost in the depths of the storm surging through them. “Don’t let it go to your head.” My feeble attempt to break the tension of the situation epically fails as a maddening smirk crosses his face.
“Too late, Kitten.”
Before I had a chance to say anything else, a loud voice called from somewhere behind him, “There they are!” We both turn to follow the sound; I roll my eyes, stepping out of his hold but still feeling the heat from him like a branding on my skin.This means nothing, Hannah. It has to mean nothing.
The weight from moments ago fades away as we watch Reed, Monroe, Samuels, and Wilson walk toward the table. They are a sight for sore eyes. Reed and Monroe are the tallest of the four. They have similar hair coloring. It’s a dirty blonde shade; Reed’s is longer and pulled up into a bun at the nape of his neck; Monroe’s is shaggy and hanging in front of his eyes a bit. Their smiles could melt the heart of the sun.
Samuels has these steel gray eyes that capture your attention the second you see them; his skin is olive, and you can tell he spends his free time outside in the sun. His sun-kissed skin up against those eyes and black hair. I’m surprised the women here aren’t falling at his feet.
Then you’ve got Brett Wilson. He’s a man of few words, built like a solid brick wall. His long brown hair hangs to his shoulders, and the green of his eyes reminds me of the fields back in Alabama in the spring. He’s missing a tooth or two, but when he’s not on the ice, you wouldn’t know that because he’s got fake ones. They all have beautiful smiles, and right now, they’re all aimed at Greyson and I.
“I heard there was a planning party; we wanted to be part of it.” Monroe claps his hands together so loudly that half the cafe turns to look at him. Greyson rolls his eyes with more force than necessary.
Reed pulls a chair out. Turning it backward, he plops himself down and leans against the back. He oozes the confidence of his Captain status off the ice the same as he does when he’s on it. “I hear there will be dunk tanks and funnel cakes.” His head tilts slightly to the side as his gaze moves from Greyson to me.
Placing my elbows on the table, I lace my fingers together and rest my chin on the backs of my hands. “Yup, along with some other games.” I wiggle my eyebrows in Grey’s direction. His eyes are still sad as he sends a guarded smile in my direction. “Something tells me the dunk tanks are going to turn into a competition between the teams.” Men and their competitive nature.
“I talked to Coach this morning; the entire team will be in attendance, along with the coaching staff, trainers, and equipment managers,” Wilson adds from the other side of the table that seems to have shrunk the moment they sat down.
“Okay, wow!” My eyebrows shoot towards my hairline, “That’s great; the kids will be so excited.” Ever since the girls and I went to visit with some of the kids, there’s been a fire lit in me to make this the best event they’ve ever been to. Their cute little smiles are my favorite form of payment.
“I’m still a little salty that you won’t let me wear a white t-shirt. Andrews was on to something there.” Samuels's bottom lip juts out into a pout that looks so out of place on his face. My heart warms a bit at this whole interaction. Usually, I run at the first sign of a forming attachment, but this feels nice. The gut-clenching need to run to save myself from being hurt isn’t present. If I’m being honest, I don’t really know what to do with that. Especially because every time my eyes drifted to Greyson, I found his eyes were already on me.
We talk more about carnival business; I learn a little about Wilson. He was one of the kids who benefitted from these programs when he was young. It gives me hope that this event will positively affect some of them. We then transition into where they want their season to go, where they actually believe it’ll go, and which teams they’re most excited to play. They asked me a bit about what it was like growing up in Alabama and if I was more of a Tide or a Tigers fan. Of course, my answer was neither—I’m an East Coast U Sea Turtle all the way.
The conversation flowed like we’d been buddies our whole life. This is the side of them I tried to accurately portray in their interviews; I think I did a pretty good job of that, if I do say so myself.
“Well, we’re going to head out. The pool is calling our names!” Samuels jumps to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, absolutely giving the rest of the patrons a little show as he flexes them while he brings them back down to his sides.
“You coming, Wilder?” Monroe asks as the rest of them get to their feet.
“Nah, I’m gonna hang around here for a bit.” He looks at me before turning back to his teammates. “Maybe grab some food, then chill for the rest of the day.” They nod and wave at the two of us as they turn and head for the door.
“Sorry about the interruption.” He spins his phone in a circle on the table like it’s a pinwheel. I place mine over his, stopping his anxious fidgeting.
“It was nice getting to talk to them outside of the rink. They’re pretty cool dudes.” I give his hand a reassuring squeeze and smile at the flush that’s crept up his neck. Adorable.
“Thank you for earlier.” His eyes meet mine, and they almost look nervous, which I don’t understand until he asks. “Are you hungry? If you have no other plans, we could have lunch and hang out at my place. It’s a five-minute walk from here.” His hands run across the top of his thighs as he waits for my response.
“Only if there’s pizza involved, babe.” I cringe; why did I call him that? And why did I agree to hang out with him alone?