shouldn’t have just left Rey at my apartment and not said anything about where I was going. I just knew I couldn’t be there when she woke up, hair tousled and wearing my T-shirt.
Me: Hey, just out for a run.
Rey: Okay, I’m heading home. Have a good one.
Me: Thanks, you too.
She probably thinks I’m fucked in the head. Hot for her one day and then cold as ice the next. I wish I could just shut off my attraction to her. Focus on the job at hand and maybe gain a friend in the process. But my fucking body wants to be more than friends with Rey. A lot more.
I want to tell her to stay. That I’m on my way back. But if I go back to my place while she’s there, it’s only going to make things worse.
I’ve had sex a couple times since Lily died. It was a different woman each time, and both happened after long nights of drinking. I felt like the physical urge to fuck had just built up in me so hard that I had to scratch the itch. And then it was done and I just went on with my life.
This, though—what I feel for Rey—is different. I want to kiss the back of her neck as I zip up her dress before taking her out to dinner at a nice restaurant. I want to look up during every home game I play and see her watching me. I want to take her out to every Cuban restaurant in the city and find out which place serves her favorite food. Hell, I want to take her to Miami for a weekend of late nights and early mornings, exploring all the Cuban places there, too.
And that’s what I feel so goddamn guilty about. I’ve only ever shared that kind of intimacy with Lily. She was my best friend. My ride or die. And I feel like a villain for wanting that kind of relationship with anyone else.
Suddenly, the stress gives way to fatigue. I’m tired, and not just physically. I open the Uber app on my phone and order a ride. When a dark sedan pulls up to get me, I slide in silently.
The driver meets my eyes in the rearview mirror but doesn’t say a word. We ride all the way to my place in silence, the only word between us the “thanks” I mutter as I get out of his car. He’s getting a good tip, because that’s just what I needed—a quiet ride home. No questions.
As soon as I walk into my apartment, I see that Rey’s bag is gone from my kitchen island, and I feel both relieved and disappointed at the same time.
Throwing my jacket on a chair, I walk into my bedroom to get some sleep before practice. Rey made the bed neatly, and I wonder if she makes her own bed at home, too. I take off my pants and shirt and peel back the covers, climbing in.
The sheets feel cool and soft, but they smell like Rey’s light, floral perfume. I bury my face in my pillow and groan, getting hard just from imagining her between these sheets an hour ago.
Hot and cold. Back and forth. Heaven and hell. That’s going to be my life until Rey completes this assignment.
Chapter Thirteen
Reyna
“Does anyone have extra pantyhose?” a loud voice booms out across the dressing room.
“I might,” comes in answer from a man with his short black hair slicked back. He’s carefully applying lip liner in a lighted mirror.
There are around a dozen queens in the dressing room in various states of dressing and putting on makeup. Kai told me on the way here that I don’t have to learn everyone’s names or ask what pronouns they prefer; if I just address everyone as “queen,” I’m good.
“Kai!” a tall queen dressed in all white calls out.
All heads in the room turn, and faces light up. Several people rush over.
“Girl, can you fix this?” a queen asks Kai, turning to give him a look at her face from every angle.
Kai crinkles his face the same way he does at me when I try something new.
“How many hours do you have?” he asks, breaking into a grin a few seconds later. “Yeah, I got you, boo.”
“You brought an assistant!” A stunning queen, with dark ebony skin, puts her hands on my shoulders.
“Hi, I’m Renee,” I say, my heart pounding nervously.
I feel like an oddball here. I’m not part of