Page 46 of Your Play to Call

She hears the door shut, stops dancing, and snaps her eyes to me. Willow’s hair is up in a bun, messy, pieces of hair framing her face.

“Just in time. The stir fry is almost done,” she says while turning the stove off and wiping her fingers on a towel that’s thrown over her shoulder.

I walk up to her and can’t help but kiss her. I wrap my arms around her lower back and pick her up a little bit, which makes her giggle, as she’s kissing me back.

“Do it again,” I say, my nose still touching hers.

“Do what again?”

“Make that sound,” I practically plead and put my lips back on hers, a touch more forceful than before. I feel her lips smile into mine as she quietly laughs in response.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Willow says, her arms wrapped around my neck.

Reluctantly, I set her down.

“Let’s eat.” She reaches for my hand and leads me to the kitchen table.

I do my best to keep my mind out of the gutter, but her ass sways in front of me as she leads me to the kitchen table.

After two plates ofstir fry, with fresh vegetables and a ginger sesame sauce, I’m full and completely content.

“Thank you for cooking,” I say, scooping the last bit of sauce and some rogue rice on my fork.

“No problem. This is one of my go-tos. I eat it probably once a week.”

I stand up to take my plate to the sink and my muscles ache.

“What’s wrong?” Willow asks as she watches me walk.

“It’s nothing. Sore from a workout. A workout I will not be doing again for a very long time,” I joke.

“You know what’s good for sore muscles?” Willow asks, her lips pulled up on one side in a mischievous grin. “Hot tub.” She tilts her head to the patio door.

“That sounds amazing, but I don’t have a suit.”

“You can wear those shorts or whatever you have underneath them,” she says nonchalantly. “If you think about it, swim shorts are just shorts,”

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get in a hot tub with Willow right now.

“Let’s do it.”

Willow points me to a bathroom to get a towel and change. Essentially, strip.

I take everything off, besides my briefs. I fold and set my clothes on the counter and look at myself in the mirror. I’m surprised by my own reflection: lips pressed together, eyes wider than field goal posts, and my shoulders damn near my jaw.

Fuck, I’m nervous.

I turn on the water and take a deep breath. I hold onto it for a few seconds before loudly sighing it out. My hands cup together, holding cool water in between my fingers and palms. I splash water on my face, a few times, before wiping the water away; my cheeks are hot to the touch.

I open the door to the hallway and listen for Willow. Nothing. I peek out far enough to see her out on the patio.

I close the bathroom door and roll my shoulders up, down, and back.

“Tripp, you nervous bastard, you can do this,” my voice cracks as I fixate on where the tile floor meets the rug I’m standing on. I sound pathetic. I do another shoulder roll and tip my chin up and look at myself in the mirror, pointing at my reflection, “This was her idea. If she didn’t want you here, she wouldn’t invite you in the hot tub wearing only your fucking underwear.”

My hands go into my hair, gripping it, taking another deep breath and sighing it out.

“You can do this,” I say to myself one last time as I wrap the towel around me.