I peek out from beneath one squinted eye.
Wiggly Butt sits—barely—at my feet, panting with her tongue rolling to the side. Saliva drips from her jowls, and the part of my hand where she licked turns cold. It’s gross, but at least she didn’t kill me . . .
Tahegin takes my hand and ever so gently moves it closer to Princess until her soft fur is sticking to the slobber on my palm. Holding my wrist, he moves my hand in an awkward pet along her body. It’s . . . soothing, I guess.
Yeah. It’s not too bad.
Down the hall, a door opens, and a large plastic bag crinkles. Princess—and every other dog in the shelter—freaks the fuck out, jumping and barking for no reason. I let out another shriek of fear and instinctively huddle close to Tahegin. “What the fuck?”
His hand finds my nape, holding it reassuringly. “Calm down,” he murmurs gently with his mouth near my ear. “They’re just excited because they hear their breakfast. It’s okay.”
And I’ll be damned if his voice doesn’t draw me back from the edge with ease.
CHAPTER 14
HENDRIX AVERY
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not looking at you any type of way.”
Tahegin levels his gaze on me in a way that clearly says he isn’t buying my bullshit. He lowers his side of the couch to the floor, effectively halting our furniture arranging.
We’d gotten a quick lunch after leaving the shelter, and then Tahegin ushered me into his dusted grey truck, where he basically kidnapped me. I had no idea where we were going or what we were doing until he parked in front of a nice apartment building near the team’s practice facility. He told me that a lot of guys on the team had stayed there for at least a few months when they first signed on while getting settled in Los Angeles. After a tour, I liked the place well enough—and the monthly rent was reasonable—so I went ahead and signed. Apparently, having money and playing as a professional athlete comes with perks like same-day move-in.
We’d gone to a giant furniture and appliance store next. I’m not a fan of shopping, but this place had full rooms set up, which made buying easy. Tahegin and I had—probably too much—fun sitting on every piece of furniture, testing every TV, and jumping on every mattress. The store managed to get us same-day delivery on most of the stuff, so Tahegin and I have spent the rest of the afternoon putting together shelves and arranging furniture.
We are putting the couch on the wall across from the mounted TV—because of course we mounted the TV before doing anything else—when Tahegin drops his side to stand with his arms crossed, staring at me knowingly. “Spill.”
“Spill what?” I grunt as I set my side of the couch down once it’s clear he has no intention of picking it back up. The couch is just going to have to stay in the center of the room for now.
“You—”
A knock on the door cuts him off, and I gladly cross the room to open it. I have a feeling I know what he was going to say. It’s difficult to admit even to myself, but I’m . . . curious.
I want to ask him personal questions, and that’s getting to me. Anything I know about Micah is from him volunteering the information, and anything he knows about me was accidentally admitted. This is entirely new territory for me. Territory that, frankly, I don’t want to want to put the effort into.
The problem is part of me—an annoyingly large part—does want to put the effort into knowing more about Tahegin.
“Delivery for— Oh my God. You’re Tahegin Ellingsworth.” The takeout guy barely has his eyes off the receipt when he spots the man standing behind me.
I peer over my shoulder and give him a look that says, “Really? Delivery guys recognize you?” Tahegin’s not even wearing any Rubies merch; I am. “And I’m Hendrix Avery.” I gesture at the to-go bag. “I ordered the food.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He scrambles to pull himself together. I’d guess he’s college-aged. Maybe plays football, too. Maybe he wants to make it big. Probably doesn’t have the talent. “Here you go . . .” He trails off, gaze lingering on my Rubies cap, which has spun around to face forward at some point. His finger points at me, mouth gaping in awe. “Are you—”
“Starving? Yep.” Smacking a cash tip into his outstretched palm, I slam the door in his face.
Tahegin purses his lips at me. At first, I think he’s holding back from calling me an asshole lacking civility and decorum—he wouldn’t be the first—but then I see the way his mouth twitches upward at the corners. He looks at the floor, even turns away to try to keep me from seeing.
Key word: try.
My whole life, people have complained how unpleasant I am to be around. The foster parents and foster kids at the homes where I stayed used to blame my attitude on the way I ended up as a ward of the state. But, no, I had a grumpy attitude even before my parents walked me into the local family services office when I was ten years old and said I wasn’t worth their time anymore.
Maybe my grumpiness is why they left.
Tahegin, though . . . He’s never tried to change me, never asked what is wrong with me, or asked why I can’t just be happy like a normal person. He’s tried to break through my tough exterior, yes, but he has never tried to change the way I am.
In fact, my attitude just made him smile.
Do I know what to do with that information? No. I do not.
“Hey, you good?” Tahegin’s smooth drawl pulls me from my thoughts. I hadn’t realized I’d zoned out, but now my gaze travels to where he sits on the uncentered couch, the takeout containers spread on the coffee table in front of him. He has connected his phone to the TV, and the downloaded game film we’re supposed to study for this Sunday is already playing. Everything is ready. He’s just waiting on me.
Giving a single nod, I round the table to sit beside Tahegin on the empty cushion. He’d suggested a vegan Chinese restaurant, and though I’m skeptical, I have to admit the food smells delicious.
He lets me indulge a few bites before he asks, “What’s on your mind?”
“How . . . did you”—why isn’t my mouth working?—“get started with the—at the—”
“Are you trying to ask about my history with the animal shelter?” Neither his smile nor his tone of voice is condescending; he just sounds . . . friendly.
I stuff my mouth with food so I don’t have to answer, giving him a noncommittal “Mhm.”
He chuckles under his breath, but it doesn’t come across as rude. It almost seems as if he’s enjoying this weird moment. We were both laughing while goofing off at the furniture store earlier, so I could understand his smiles then. Now, it’s only me here to entertain him, yet he still appears to be just as interested and invested in the time we are spending together. “Well,” he begins around a mouthful of chewed food. It’s gross and annoying—so why are my lips twitching up at the corners? “My rookie year, the team did a promotional charity event. We do one every year, but that particular one happened to be at the animal shelter. I had fun at the event, so I went back a few months later,” he says. “Our media coverage worked in that people came and adopted animals, but over half of them were surrendered back to the shelter by the time I got around to checking up on them. I decided to offer my help by volunteering rather than promoting because I didn’t want to be the reason animals got returned by people who just thought it was cool to get a pet when a famous football player said to.”
Letting his words settle in my brain, I busy myself eating the eggplant stir-fry and tofu with broccoli. My college team used to do promotional community events back when I was playing for them, but I never stopped to consider what happened after we left. If the local soup kitchen was short-staffed before we helped serve one night, they were probably short-staffed every night after, too. Had we done any good? Or was it just a way to make the college look good for one evening?
“I can hear the gears turning.” Tahegin nudges me with his elbow, and I drag my eyes from my food to see him easily stuff a bite of rice into his mouth with chopsticks. Of course, he’s perfect with literally the hardest utensils to eat rice with. “Rix?”
