Twisted Collide: The new sports romance in the Redville Saints series
Twisted Collide: Chapter 37

Despite waking up in the same bed as I have for the past month, today feels different. I’m excited. Something I haven’t felt since being here in Redville.

It’s him.

I know it is.

He makes me excited for what’s to come.

With the game tomorrow, the Saints aren’t on the ice today. Instead, they had off-ice training, so I didn’t have to go to the practice arena.

I got lucky and have the day off, which is why I woke up at lunchtime instead of my usual seven o’clock.

It feels good to be lazy.

I stretch my arms over my head and groan. I can still feel him touching me.

It’s ingrained in my memory, and I hope it never fades away. Last night felt like a dream, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was the hottest fantasy that had come to life.

Apparently, sex in public places is our thing. A soft laugh bubbles up from my mouth. I wonder when I’ll see him next.

Now.

I want to see him now.

I reach my arm out to the table beside my bed and grab my phone.

Should I call?

A groan escapes. Just do it. Text him.

Do I even have his number?

Duh, when I worked for him, I took it down, even though I never contacted him.

Josie: Hi

Short and sweet.

I stare at my phone, but nothing happens.

I throw my phone across the bed.

Stop watching it.

A watched pot never boils, after all.

A full thirty minutes pass, and despite throwing my phone across my bed, I reach for it to see if he’s responded. He hasn’t.

Josie: Is texting NOT okay?

Shit. Why did I just text that?

I hover over the delete button, but if I delete it, he’ll know I deleted it. What’s worse, looking pathetic? Or looking like a wishy-washy, pathetic person.

Why did I think this was a good idea? Why do I have to be so damn impulsive?

I pass time on my phone, checking my emails, texts, and missed calls, not sure what I’m searching for.

Okay, I do know. Some verification my mother remembers she birthed me. When I don’t get it, I move on to double tapping every thirst trap of Dane on Insta.

Why hasn’t he responded yet?

Another five minutes pass, and I cover my face with my pillow and scream into it.

The phone finally chimes, and I throw the pillow across the room and jump to grab it.

Dane: I guess that depends.

My heartbeat picks up, and my hand shakes as I hold my phone, trying to decide how to respond.

Josie: Depends on what?

Dane: Depends on why you’re texting . . .

My breathing comes out in heavy pants. Now what do I say? I stare at the message. Does he want me to say something innocent? Or is he angling for something else? Something daring.

Or I can just lay myself out there.

Josie: I want to see you.

The phone rattles in my hand. I can’t believe I put myself out there like this. Now I have to wait and see if he rejects me.

This is the worst idea I’ve ever had.

Why do I do this to myself?

The waiting feels like agony.

Dane: Then the answer is always yes.

A burst of energy flows through my body. Always yes. My pulse picks up until the blood is pounding so hard in my veins I might pass out.

Dane: When?

Wait, what? He just asked when. He wants to see me too.

Well, actually, he never said that, but it’s implied . . . right?

My heart hammers in my chest.

What does this mean? It means nothing, dummy. He wants to sleep with me again. Nothing more. Stop getting worked up. This will never be anything more than a forbidden love affair I’ll always have in my memory.

Josie: Today.

Dane: Tonight.

Josie: Okay.

Dane: I’ll send you the address.

And he does.

This is a bad idea. I’ll most likely get hurt, yet despite the impending doom that’s settled in my gut, I can’t replace it in me to care.

I’d rather feel the pain than never feel at all.