Page 29 of In a Pickle
She nodded sleepily. “Sure.”
He brought the other leg onto his lap and massaged it. She let out a low hum of approval that went straight to his dick.
“Do you want to watch TV?” he asked.
“No, I feel a headache coming on, and the light kind of bothers my eyes. You’re welcome to watch, though.”
“Nah, that’s okay.” He didn’t want to turn the TV on if it would bother her. “How about music?” he asked.
“That sounds good. You choose the music.”
“Oh, you’ll regret that, Abrams. I might blast some really loud rap right now. Or, I don’t know, play Creed on loop for the next two hours. You shouldn’t give me so much power.”
She smiled. “Do your worst.”
With a warm feeling in his chest, James set about curating what he hoped would be the world’s best sick-day playlist.
???
On Friday, James walked into the Wynwood pickleball tournament feeling excited. Even though today’s matches wouldn’t improve his rating much, and might even hurt it if he lost early, he still enjoyed playing, and he’d get to see some of his closest pickleball buddies, including Sean “The Beast” Clune, who’d won the biggest personality award from Pickleball.com when James won best dressed.
Plus, win or lose today, James was seeing Liana tonight. She had texted earlier that she was much improved from a few days before, which made him immensely relieved. She’d agreed to come over when James was home from the tournament. Since he didn’t know what time he’d be done — if he lost early, he’d be free for the whole afternoon — they’d agreed that he’d text her when he was on the way home.
He couldn’t wait to see her again. Sure, he’d seen her yesterday at her lesson, but that wasn’t really conducive to conversation. Besides, he couldn’t get enough of her.
“Alonso,” someone called, and James turned to find The Beast jogging toward him. They bro-hugged.
“Good to see you, dude,” said Sean.
“Good to see you, too. Good luck out there. Who do you play first?”
“Some new kid. Swedish, I think. In last week’s tournament there were people from all over. Russia, Croatia, Argentina, and Japan. Crazy how the sport is growing worldwide, huh?”
“Seriously,” James agreed. “Of course, all of those people may be from different countries originally, but they all live in Florida now.”
The Beast laughed. “No doubt. By the way,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “don’t kill me, but your girl is hot. Well done.”
What the hell was he talking about? “My girl?”
“Yeah. I mean, I thought she was your girl. No offense, man, but I don’t think you’re really enough of a big deal in pickleball to have groupies. So I assumed you’re with her. Not that I haven’t seen my share of girls who come out to tournaments trying to be pickle chasers.”
James laughed and smacked The Beast on the back, but he was confused. There was no way Liana was here; he hadn’t even told her where in Miami the tournament was. “Pickle chasers, huh?” he asked The Beast. “Is that the official term?”
“Dude, I didn’t come up with it, I swear. I mean, they may not be puck bunnies, but the pickle chasers are a hella good time, let me tell you. Anyway, gotta go. Catch you after?”
“Yeah,” said James, his mind reeling. He hadn’t told Liana to come to the tournament today, had he? The Beast had to have seen someone else.
But sure enough, as he headed onto the court, James saw two familiar faces in the single row of spectator bleachers. The first, to his surprise, was Kels. Kels had always been supportive of his pickleball career but, as far as he could remember, she had never attended one of his matches, and he’d never pushed, knowing how busy she was with law school. In fact, come to think of it, none of his friends had ever shown up for his pickleball tournaments, except for one time Isaac drove to Boca with him. And James’ parents would certainly never deign to attend a pickleball event. But here Kels was, one of his closest and oldest friends, cheering loudly and wearing… the exact same outfit that James was wearing?
Damn Kelsey, both for being so observant and for her blatant disregard of personal boundaries. James and Kels had eaten breakfast together this morning. She must have seen what he was wearing and then raided his closet. When the polo shirt company sponsored him, he’d gotten multiple sets of the same outfits to wear during tennis tournaments. He had no doubt Kelsey had deliberately found the all-white number with little blue stripes that he wore today. She’d clearly taken great care to pop the collar.
But the even bigger shock was the woman next to Kels, looking delectable in a short white tennis dress that showcased her long legs.
What in the hell was Liana doing here?
He bounded over to her, trying to blink to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. When he reached her, he said, “Hi.”
“Hi,” she replied shyly. “Is it okay that I’m — that we’re here?”