“Sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You’re right,” she snapped, embarrassed at her lack of grace.
But Tristan just tilted his head in question. “Kissed you or stopped?”
“Stopped,” she answered unthinkingly. Cringing, she dropped her head, hoping to hide her blush.
He laughed. His hand soothed her on the nape of her neck as he placed a quick kiss on the top of her head.
“We are outside. I should have used more discretion,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” He increased the distance between them. Looking her up and down, he seemed to make some decision. “This is it,” he said simply, suddenly sheepish.
“The pitch?”
He shrugged. “Not very exciting, I know. But the pitch—at any time of the day really, but especially in the morning before my mates come out to mark it all up—there’s just something special about it.”
“Is this all you’ve ever wanted to do?”
“Since I was a kid, yeah. I get here before everyone else, most of the time,” he qualified. “Sometimes, Rowan is right behind me, sometimes right in front. He likes to make a game out of who can get here first.”
She realized this was his place, the place she’d asked him to take her.
“The pitch in the morning might be my favorite place.”
“Are you close?”
“Rowan and me? Yeah, he’s one of my best mates. Little bit of a downer sometimes,” he said, but he was smiling, and Ele got the feeling it was part of some inside joke.
“Are you on the same team?”
Tristan stopped abruptly. “You don’t know?”
“Should I?”
“Of course you should. Ro, Caleb, and I all play for Hartesfield United. Rumor has it, we are the crown prince’s team.” He was indignant, maybe even mildly appalled by the question.
“You’re right. My brother is a Hartesfield fan, through and through.”
“Well, I expect you to be, too, now.”
“Now?”
“Now that you’ve met me”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“kissed me.” He shrugged. “It should earn me a fan.”
I kissed a man who I’ve known for forty-five minutes.
I kissed a man who has probably kissed thousands of women.
I kissed Tristan Davenport!
Alternate universe?
The moment in the physiology room came back to her. Poor Robert. She couldn’t help forcing him into voyeurism. She imagined Robert wanted to scrub those few moments from his memory. Had she even remembered he was there, she wouldn’t have given in to the desire to touch Tristan. But for the first time in almost twelve years, she’d forgotten her surroundings and her audience. She’d only wanted her mouth on Tristan’s.
The thought of those few moments made warmth spread throughout her body, a combination of embarrassment at her forwardness and the reminiscent desire the memory brought her. She wanted to walk around like this all the time, euphoric and light, exhilarated and excited. She’d never felt so bold and powerful. Even if she could only enjoy it for today, she thought she might be able to bank the memory and eke sustenance from it for a long time.
She scoffed, “Like you need more of those.”
“Can never have enough fans.”
“Yes, Juliana told me, you are quite the social media smash.”
Tristan snickered. “Not you too. Rowan is always on me about my ‘addiction,’ as he refers to it. But it started innocently enough.”
“Really?”
“Aye. I have a big family. Six sisters. And my mom and dad are from big families. When I signed my first contract, I got loaned to a team in Germany. No one could afford to come watch me play, and it was exhausting, trying to keep everyone updated. But they all had phones and social media accounts. That was how it began, but then other people started to follow me. And then it was just this thing I did. When I came back here, I don’t know, I guess I could have stopped, but I felt like I’d be letting people down.” He shrugged. “Plus, I like it.”
She could see that. She imagined him just wanting to share who he was with the world because he was confident the world loved him. It made the gulf between them even wider.
Once, Ele had believed she could have normal friendships and relationships. Before. It had taken only one person willing to sell her story for the impenetrable walls to go up. Now, she relied on only her family and her closest staff. She guarded every aspect of her life from the public. Over time, her unwillingness to share who she was with anyone outside of her circle made her unapproachable. Instead of being mysterious and private, she was deemed aloof and shallow. James’s down-to-earth demeanor and openness coupled with Juliana’s outgoing youthfulness cast Ele in a light of severity and austereness. Thus, the Ice Princess had been born or created, depending on one’s view.
“I can tell,” she finally responded to him when the silence had stretched on.
He winked at her. “So, what’s yours?”
Confused, she asked, “My what?”
“Favorite place.”
She stuttered for an answer, but what came to mind wasn’t something she could say out loud.
“You can’t think too much about it. You just have to answer with the first thing to come to your mind.”
“I don’t know.”
“You do. I can see the answer; you just don’t want to say it.”
You.
“You can’t see an answer because I haven’t come up with one yet.”
His face called bullshit on her, but he didn’t press. “You owe me a secret.”
Ele reached a hand up and wiped some of the moisture from her face. The breeze moved through them, and she shivered.
Tristan swung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. “We’re soaked. Let’s go get you dry and warm.”
She knew he was right. The cold had settled into her bones, and nothing short of a hot shower would warm her. But she didn’t want her time with him to be over because when she left here today, she would only ever see him on television.
When the rain began in earnest, Tristan tucked her into his chest and started back to the building. She slung her arm around his back and settled into him. He was lean with trim muscles. She knew his body fat content would hardly register on the fancy machine in the physiology room. She wondered what his body would feel like under her hands, and she mourned the lost opportunity to experience it.
When they reached it, the door opened automatically, and Robert and Millie were waiting on the other side with towels. Ele painted a disheveled picture. Her new training gear was damp and spotted with drops of rain. Her carefully crafted braid had suffered from both the water and the couple of times Tristan’s hand had been near it. If there was any makeup left on her face, it was probably smeared. She gave them a jaunty smile before wrapping the towel around her shoulders.
“I have your clothes in the changing room,” Millie said.
“Of course.”
“This way,” Tristan said with a nod in the direction they needed to go.
She should have allowed him to lead, let Robert fall into position and Millie step into hers. But she was already off script. So, she stepped in front of Robert and slid her hand into Tristan’s. He winked at her, and they moved as one through the hallway.