The Boston Brute Series: Pt. 8 (Baby Steps)
Pairing: NHL!Chris Evans x Athletic Trainer!Reader (female character)
Summary: When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the 'No Fraternization' clause in your employee contract, you're drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake.
Warnings: Crude language. Chris is an asshole. Somewhat toxic relationship/situation. Lots of Angst, neglect from the previous part is joked about being Chris and reader. If you can't handle that, please do not read. (18+, please. Minors will be blocked.) Please do not read this series if you are not a fan of asshole Chris or fics with a lot of angst. As always, let me know if I missed anything!
W/C: 7.1k
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All players and scenarios are made up completely. This story does not reflect things that actually happen in the NHL or with its players. Additionally, I talk about Chris's family in this fic. Again, work of fiction and is no reflection of his parents or grandparents in real life.
Reader POV
"Hey, you." You smiled softly as Chris walked through your office door, pushing it shut behind him. His hair was damp from his shower, styled back and out of his face with the exception of one strand that fell down the center of his forehead, curling slightly.
He let his duffle bag hit the floor with a thud. "Hey." He responded, mirroring the same nervous smile. Your eyes moved slowly around his face, memorizing his features. His smile was your favorite. Chris had only blessed you with an actual, genuine smile a couple of times and now that you guys have decided to give your relationship a shot, you longed to see it more.
"Need stretched?" You inquired, standing from your desk and raising your eyebrow playfully. He didn't. You knew that he was just coming to say bye and walk you to your car. It'd only been 3 days since you guys started officially dating and you were loving that you'd kind of already fallen into a routine.
Chris shrugged. "I wouldn't mind having your hands on me."
"Ha." You rolled your eyes, walking around your desk and leaning your butt against the edge. He sauntered towards you, stopping just before he reached you.
"Everyone else cleared out."
Your smile widened at the obvious statement. This was Chris you were dealing with, after all. "I figured." Even on days when he just had practice, he was still the last one out of the locker room. It made you giddy inside thinking that you were part of the reason for that now.
He closed the distance between you, reaching up to cup your cheek. "How was your day, princess?"
Leaning into his hand slightly, your eyes met his as you thought back to the first time he'd called you that. You couldn't stand it. Now, it makes your heart skip a beat. "Uneventful. Yours?"
"Uneventful," Chris responded quietly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again.
It was obvious that he wanted to kiss you, but Chris had been very adamant about following your baby steps rule. Annoyingly so.
"I know I said baby steps... but you don't have to be so hesitant about kissing me. Just do it. When I said baby steps, I meant like, maybe we wait two months to get married instead of one."
Chris laughed, his other hand settling on the small of your back. He gently pulled you closer, then lowered his lips to yours.
One of your other favorite things about Chris was how good he always smelled. It's funny how some things change as your feelings for a person do. The fresh linen smell of Chris's laundry used to mean conflict and the feeling of irritation. Now, you craved it. You wanted to throw yourself into Chris's arms and bury your nose in his shirt every time you were close enough for the scent to waft through the air.
He parted his lips and you tasted the hot cinnamon gum he always chewed as his tongue poked out, swiping against your bottom lip. You smiled through the kiss, pulling away and looking up at him. "You sure you don't wanna just come back to my place?"
Chris chuckled before pecking your lips and stepping away, his hands dropping to his sides. "Baby steps." He reminded you. "Come on, grab your stuff."
You groaned playfully, throwing your head back. "I take it back."
He shook his head. "No, you don't, princess."
Taking a step towards him again, you snaked your arms around his neck. "Fine. We could just stay in here for a few more minutes, though."
Chris smiled, resting his hands on your mid-back, then lowered his mouth to your ear. "Baby steps." He whispered, his breath tickling your skin and sending a shiver down your spine while your thighs clenched together.
"You weren't this gentle with me before!" You whined, stepping away and walking back to your desk to grab your things.
Chris laughed while you gathered your stuff. "Yeah, and then you didn't talk to me for 3 weeks. So..."
"Funny." You responded, rolling your eyes. The two of you quickly discovered your love of coping through sarcasm and used it in basically every conversation, especially if it surrounded the night that you guys had hooked up for the first time.
Healthy? No. But for two adults with shitty childhoods, it was fitting.
Once you grabbed your things, Chris walked you to your car, his pinky finger brushing against yours the entire time. You smiled softly to yourself at the gesture, knowing that while you couldn't hold hands in public, Chris would still do little things like this to let you know he was close.
"So... I'll see you tomorrow?"
You smiled, turning to face him when you finally came to a stop at the driver's side of your car. "Bright and early. Make sure you don't party too hard tonight, it'll be a rough flight if you're hungover."
"Mmm." He hummed, rolling his eyes, then surveying the parking lot before taking a step closer to you. "Good thing I know the trainer, she'll take good care of me." Chris winked, leaning down and pressing a light kiss to your lips. You knew that his plans were to head straight home, unlike the other players who had already started their night at The Grand. "Have a good night, okay? Text me when you get home."
"I will," your smile grew and your heart swelled. Chris really did care about you.
He looked around the parking lot one more time before pecking your lips again and then taking a step back. "Go ahead." He gestured towards your car. "I didn't come all the way out here just to leave and end up reading about your murder in the paper anyway."
You rolled your eyes, a smirk playing on your lips as your phone dinged. Pulling it from your pocket, you groaned at the three texts Marlowe just sent your way.
Marlowe: 🧦🧦🧦
Marlowe: Sorry!
Marlowe: I love you
Chris looked your way again, cocking an eyebrow and waiting for you to explain.
Pocketing your phone again, you shook your head. "Marlowe. I got sock emojis... Sounds like Connor is coming over again tonight."
He laughed. "What? You and Towns don't get along anymore?"
"God, it's not even that... Let's just say... I definitely know both of their names." You shivered as you recalled the many nights you'd heard them moaning loudly from her room across the hall.
Chris scratched the back of his head, the grin shifting from a playful one to one that seemed more nervous. "Well..." He paused, clearing his throat. "If you wanted... I mean, I know, baby steps and all. But you're welcome to come over for a few hours. Maybe we could have a drink? Hang around at my place until they're... finished."
Both of you snorted out a laugh.
You blew out a slow breath, contemplating his offer. Going back to his place to avoid listening to Marlowe and Connor all night did sound enticing. But you also knew how seriously Chris was taking your suggestion of taking 'baby steps' and he'd already declined your offer to spend the night together... He was trying so hard to respect your boundaries.
With a smirk on his face, Chris gently tapped his foot against your leg to pull you out of your thoughts, his hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie. He leaned in towards you, squinting his eyes. "If you look closely, you can see the little hamster running on its wheel in your head."
Rolling your eyes, you reached up and smacked his shoulder playfully. "Oh, hush. I just– I don't know. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, I guess."
His brows furrowed. "How would you make me uncomfortable?"
"I mean, you did just decline my offer to come over..."
"Because I don't want to move too fast or come on too strong, princess. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. You asked for baby steps, so that's what we're doing. I already fucked up once. I won't let it happen again, Y/N."
God. Who was this man?
A small smile formed on your lips. Just a few weeks ago, you didn't think he had the capability of caring for someone other than himself. Just a few days ago, you understood that Chris would keep himself from being happy if meant the people he cared about were protected. Even from himself and who he was afraid of being.
While the two of you still had a long way to go, you also knew that you trusted Chris despite everything that happened. He'd opened himself up to you in a way you didn't even know he was capable of and it meant something to both of you. You could tell.
Slowly, your smile grew. "Okay. Yeah, I mean, it's just a couple of hours. A drink?" You shrugged. "Let's do it."
Chris tried to dial back his excitement, his lips pinching together as he held back a grin. "Okay. Just uh– follow me."
"Sounds good." You turned to climb in your car, but stopped, facing Chris again. "Hey, just so I know beforehand... Have you named the crocodiles that live in the moat surrounding your place? Like are they pets or do they just kind of hang around?"
He rolled his eyes, letting out a laugh. "Get in your car."
You laughed before climbing into your car, smiling at Chris as he walked backward a few steps before turning and making his way to his SUV.
The ride to Chris's was short, the whole time you were trying and failing to wipe the grin from your lips. Normally on your ride home, you played music way too loud and sang along embarrassingly off-key. Tonight, the prospect of being inside Chris's home with him, alone, made your palms sweat and your stomach flutter in the best way. Your brain was distracted the entire drive while you tried to picture where he lived and what color his couch was.
You followed Chris to a tall apartment complex in downtown Boston, letting out a sound of surprise as you leaned forward and eyed the building. For some reason, Chris living anywhere besides a house in the middle of nowhere with no close neighbors or people to bother him surprised you.
Honestly, when you got to know him, Chris wasn't the rough, grumpy man that everyone made him out to be, but you were surprised nonetheless.
You trailed behind him in your car, following Chris into the very secure parking garage after being waved through by the attendant sitting inside the booth. Before you could get out, he made his way over to your car, pulling it open for you. "I can't believe you live somewhere with neighbors." You teased, grabbing your phone before climbing out of the car.
He shook his head in response, smiling softly while he rolled his eyes and reached for your hand.
Your eyes bounced from his to his hand a few times. "Are you sure?"
"Definitely."
A smile warmed your face as you reached out, intertwining your fingers with his. Your hand tingled under his touch and you knew you would quit your job and live in this parking garage if it meant holding his hand forever. This was your problem with Chris. The way he looked at you, the way his hand felt in yours... It was just... perfect. You were scared... Both of you seemed to understand that whatever connection you shared was deep and passionate. It was intense. And that could either turn out to be the best thing that had ever happened to you or the worst and you weren't exactly sure how to prepare your heart for a repeat of what it went through just a couple of weeks ago.
Quietly, you walked with Chris through the garage and toward the elevator, both of you stealing little glances and small smiles at the other. The sound of your heart pounding was so loud in your ears, that you were convinced Chris could hear every beat.
Once inside the elevator, his hand slid out of his hoodie pocket and waved a fob in front of a reader, pressing the very top button that reads "P".
Your eyes widened slightly. "Do you live in the penthouse?!" No wonder he lived here. He didn't have neighbors. He had the entire top floor.
He nodded, then shrugged as if it were truly no big deal. After being in the NHL for so many years, it probably wasn't a big deal to him. He was used to having money and living a life of luxury. "Connor has the floor under me."
"Connor lives here?" You looked over at Chris. "Does Marlowe know that? If he lives here, what the hell is he always doing at our place?"
Chris chuckled, swiping his fob again when the elevator indicated you'd reached the top. "Probably because he loves fucking with you so much."
You groaned. Connor did enjoy messing with you. If he wasn't eating your food, he was hiding your shit. One day, he even broke into your room while you were gone and moved everything in your room 2 inches to the right. It took running into your dresser at 3am while you were half asleep to realize.
It really was like living with a pesky brother.
"Do you have any siblings?" You blurted out at the same second the elevator doors split open. "Holy shit." You stood in the elevator, staring at the apartment in front of you. The elevator opened into what looked like the and you stared ahead, slightly taken aback by the modernness of the place he called home. The white marble floors stretched through the living room and what you could see of the dining room and kitchen area, the walls painted a similar shade, making everything seem a hell of a lot more open and bright than you'd imagined.
"No crocodiles here." Chris teased, tossing his keys into a small bowl on the entry table.
You shook your head while scanning what you could see of his home. "This place is beautiful." It truly was. Beautiful, cozy, homey, and not at all what you expected.
He toed off his tennis shoes, kicking them off to the side, then shrugged. "It's okay."
You gaped at him. "Okay? Are you crazy? I'd sell my left leg to live somewhere like this."
Chris chuckled. "Don't go selling any legs. You can visit anytime you want."
Following Chris's lead, you slid off your tennis shoes, kind of wishing you had a change of clothes. Something about spending the evening with Chris in your Bruins polo and a pair of khakis really brought down the mood.
You walked into the living room as Chris flipped the lights on and your eyes were pulled upward to the glass wall overlooking the living room. "Is that your bedroom?"
"Jeez, at least buy me a drink first."
You scoffed, turning to look at Chris who stood in the kitchen with a grin on his face. "You have a beautiful home, Chris."
"Thank you," he returned quietly, turning his focus back to the mail he was sorting on the counter.
You walked slowly around the neutral-colored living room, noticing that there wasn't a single picture. Not one of Chris or his teammates or his family. Nothing.
"When did you move in?"
He crossed his arms over his chest, resting his hips against the counter. "I think like 5 years ago."
"5 years? Really?" Your eyes scanned the room before looking back to Chris. "Where are... you don't have any pictures."
He shrugged, his gaze leaving yours momentarily as he looked around. "It came furnished. Didn't feel like I needed to add anything to it." He paused for a second as if he suddenly realized that that bothered him. If it did, he didn't let it show. "What do you want to drink?"
After making your way over to where he stood, you leaned over the counter, resting on your forearms. "What do you have?"
He called out a list of various brands of wines and liquors, which you made him clarify and relist by red, white, gin, whiskey, or vodka, eventually settling on white wine.
Chris walked around the counter, a glass of white wine in hand. He set it down gently, his eyes never leaving yours... until they flickered to your lips.
While you didn't want to regret telling Chris you wanted to take baby steps, you almost did. It was so hard to see him so hesitant around you. Not that it wasn't appreciated... but you wanted Chris to grab you and kiss you with the same intensity that he had the first time.
But instead, the two of you engaged in a short staring contest, both of you waiting for the other to break.
"You gonna kiss me?"
He blinked, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Do you want me to?"
You groaned, throwing your head back. "Chris!! Come on, this is torture."
"I have 3."
Your brows furrowed with confusion. "Huh?"
"3. I have 3 siblings. 2 sisters and a brother."
"Hmm." You smiled gently. "3?"
"Carly, me, Scott, and Shanna." He confirmed, nodding slightly.
For some reason, it surprised you that he had siblings. He always seemed to be such a loner, someone who was raised by himself with little to no friends. "Do you have a relationship with them?" Something about being around Chris just took away your filter for saying invasive things, but before you could backtrack, he spoke up.
"I mean, yes. But no. Carly has a few kids, so I try to go home for the holidays. But we don't see each other outside of that."
You nodded slowly. "Got it."
"What about you?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
You begrudgingly grabbed the wine glass, taking a small sip. "Nope. Only child here."
"Parents?"
"Well..." You paused, taking a deep breath and swallowing a mouthful of wine. "Dad was a deadbeat. Mom was... my everything. She uh– she passed away my senior year of high school."
His features fell sympathetically. "I'm really sorry to hear that."
"It was a long time ago." You shrugged like it truly didn't matter, but honestly, the length of time didn't matter. Your heart would always ache when it came to your mother.
Chris must've noticed the shift in your demeanor, his hand reached out to cup your chin. "We don't have to talk about it. Not yet."
You smiled appreciatively. "Thank you."
"Of course."
His hand fell back to his side and the two of you stood in awkward silence, neither of you knowing where to take the conversation. It's like you didn't know how to talk to each other unless you were recklessly flirting or insulting.
Chris shifted on his feet, nervously palming the back of his head.
"Okay!" You walked around the counter, opening the door to what you assumed was a pantry. But you were wrong. The small room that Chris had walked into earlier for wine was actually a walk-in cooler stocked floor to ceiling with wine and various whiskey bottles. "Jesus Christ, how much money does this man have?" You whispered under your breath.
Grabbing the first bottle your eyes landed on, you pulled out what seemed like a very expensive type of whiskey and turned to walk back out. "Grab the shot glasses."
"Shot glasses?" Chris's eyebrows raised in disbelief, earning a nod from you.
"Yup. Shot glasses. Let's break the ice."
Chris rounded the counter with a small, inquisitive smile as he opened one of the kitchen cabinets to grab two shot glasses. He set them on the granite and flicked one towards where you stood.
You popped the cork to the whiskey, pouring the amber liquid into the small glasses. "How much was this bottle?"
He shrugged. "I don't know, probably $150."
"$150?!" Your eyes widened. "Christ. I drink wine from a bag and I'm wasting your $150 whiskey on shots?"
Chris laughed. "Who cares? Come on, bottoms up." He raised his glass to clink with yours, before throwing back the shot.
You regretted it the second the whiskey hit your tongue, your throat burning. You gagged, scrunching your face and shaking your head. "It tastes like a tree doused in rubbing alcohol."
Chris snorted, snagging the bottle from you and pouring two more shots. "Truth or drink?"
Suppressing the urge to gag, you swallowed hard. "Alright. But I already know I'm gonna answer every single one." Obviously. You were not drinking that shit again.
"Worst habit."
Immediately, you answered. "Biting my nails. I hate it. But I do it all the time." You held up your hand as if to emphasize your point.
"That's your worst habit?"
"Yup." You nodded, leaning your hip against the counter. "Favorite color?"
He contemplated his answer for a second before both of you spoke up, saying, "black," at the same time. Chris laughed, shaking his head. "How'd you know?"
You shrugged. "I don't know. You drink black coffee, you write in all caps... makes sense."
Chris rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright...." He scratched his chin with his thumb while he contemplated his next question. "Uhhh– If you could hire someone to do one household chore for you... which one would it be?"
What a... unique question.
You laughed. "Laundry. I fucking hate folding clothes." You were going to ask him the same question.... But figured he already had hired people to do his household chores. "Most embarrassing thing you've ever done on a date?"
He snorted. "I haven't really been on a ton of 'dates' but one time, I went to dinner with this girl and I got a lemon with my water... I accidentally squirted lemon juice right into her eyes. It was horrible."
"Oh my god." You let out a laugh, covering your mouth as you cackled. "That's horrible!"
He nodded. "Yeah, I know. She left. She couldn't see and we never talked again."
"Well, I guess it worked out for me then, huh?"
"I guess it did," Chris answered, smiling.
You spent the next couple of hours playing this game, going back and forth, answering the stupidest questions about each other until you couldn't see through the tears and your stomach hurt from laughing.
Chris told you all about his two nephews, Miles and Ethan, and his niece, Stella. He even showed you a couple of pictures. He told you about his favorite book, which was Siddhartha. You learned that his first childhood crush was Sandra Bullock, that he loved doing theater until his father made him quit to focus on hockey, and that he had a stuffed penguin he had named 'Bluey' that was apparently featured in many family photos he promised to show you someday. The confession, of course, sent flutters of excitement through your body. He planned on showing you pictures one day and you were elated.
You had returned similar stories of your childhood, confessing your first celebrity crush and love for NSYNC and how your first concert was the Backstreet Boys. Your mom worked her ass off for those nosebleed tickets and it was one of the happiest days of your life. You did end up drinking one disgusting shot. Not because you didn't want to answer his question, but because you couldn't. After you'd asked him about his favorite book, he returned the favor and for someone who has read a basically endless amount of books, it felt impossible to pick just one. So Chris made you drink.
At some point you'd ended up on the couch, slowly dozing off as Criminal Minds played on the TV.
Your phone dinged, pulling you from the sleep you'd almost succumbed to. Groaning, you sat up and snagged it from the coffee table.
Marlowe: You alive? Or coming home tonight?
"Shit." You scrubbed your face with your hands, rubbing your eyes until you saw tiny bursts of lights and stars forming from the pressure.
"You okay?" Chris asked, his husky voice sending a shiver down your spine.
You nodded. "Yeah, I forgot to text Marlowe. She's worried."
He hummed in response, checking the time. "Why don't you just stay tonight? It's late."
The fluttering in your stomach intensified at his question. "You sure?"
"Yeah, it's late. I wouldn't want you driving back by yourself now. We'll set an alarm, you can get out of here early to pack for our flight."
You sent off a quick text to Marlowe to let her know that you wouldn't be coming home and then turned to face Chris. "So... can I borrow some clothes?"
He grinned but quickly pinched his lips together to hold back his excitement. "Sure. I can uh– I can sleep on the couch if it'll make you more comfortable."
Rolling your eyes, you stood, reaching your hand out to pull him up. "Don't be silly. Come on." You were an adult... And you and Chris were dating now. You could sleep in the same bedroom, no biggie.
Chris's large fingers intertwined with yours, pulling you towards the stairs to lead you to his bedroom. Your eyes scanned the room. "Wow. This is... beautiful. Is that... Do you have a California king?"
He nodded before disappearing into his closet. "I'm kind of tall if you didn't notice."
You let out a sarcastic laugh, slowly wandering around his room. No pictures here, either. The room was basically bare. Just a bed with a rug, a chair, and a couple of nightstands. The minimalist look just was not for you. It looked like he just moved in and was waiting for his moving truck to arrive with his belongings. How could he live in an apartment for 5 years and not make more... him?
The more you thought about it, though, the more it made sense. This was him. Or at least the 'him' he projects to the world.
Minimalist, impersonal, bare.
He didn't expose much of anything about himself to the world and it definitely showed throughout his apartment.
He sauntered back in, tossing a sweatshirt onto the bed. "Do you need pants?"
You raised an eyebrow, a snarky comment sitting at the tip of your tongue.
"Do you sleep in pants?" He clarified.
Deciding to torture Chris, you answered 'no' before pulling your Bruins polo over your head and discarding it on the floor. With your eyes locked on Chris, you stepped towards his bed, grabbing his sweatshirt and pulling it on while taking a deep breath. It smelled just like him. Fresh linen. You unclasped your bra, maneuvering inside of the sweatshirt to pull it off, Chris's adam's apple bobbing as he gulped.
Continuing with your unintentional strip tease, you slowly undid the button of your khakis, hooking your thumbs into the waistband and shimmying them over the curve of your hips.
Chris groaned softly, turning to disappear into his closet again. You laughed quietly to yourself, kicking your pants off to the side. "What side of the bed do you sleep on?" You hollered.
"Whatever side you don't."
You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly and walking over to the left side of the bed and crawling in, snuggling under the comforter. You took another deep breath, inhaling the scent of him. Here you were, completely wrapped up in Chris. This had to be Heaven.
A few minutes later, Chris came out of his closet in nothing but boxers, making you gulp audibly. You watched him over the comforter as he climbed into bed, plugging his phone into the charger and rolling over the face you. "I set an alarm for 6. Does that work?"
You nodded once, trying not to imagine the hard muscles just a foot from your touch.
Chris smirked, lifting the comforter and holding his arm out. "I think I owe you some cuddles."
Well shit. You weren't gonna fight him on that!
You rolled into his arms, his left arm securing over your stomach as you pressed against him. His chest sat flush with your back, suppressing a laugh when you felt him getting hard behind you.
"You sure you wanna go to sleep? Doesn't seem like you're ready for bed..."
He shook his head. "Ignore that. It's got a mind of its own."
You laughed again. "I think I like where its mind is heading though..." You tried to flip around, but Chris's grip tightened, preventing you from moving.
"Shhhhh.... Go to sleep."
"Don't be a party pooper!" You teased, wiggling your butt and causing Chris to groan.
"Go. To. Sleep." He rolled forward slightly, his lips gently kissing the nape of your neck. "Good night, girlfriend." He whispered, the breath against your ear certainly not helping the ache between your thighs.
But you still grinned from ear to ear. "Good night, boyfriend."
CHRIS POV
The next morning, Chris was woken up by someone pounding on his door. In an effort not to stir you, he slowly slid his arm out from underneath your body, shaking it a few times to get rid of the tingles prickling across it.
He grabbed his phone, tapping the screen to bring it to life. It was only 5:40. He slid out of bed, dragging his hands down his face as the knocking persisted.
Chris stood quietly, padding softly across the room and heading downstairs to see who the hell was pounding on his door so fucking early. Though, he had a guess.
He had learned so much about you last night. And so much more than just what you told him. You very obviously hated whiskey. You took up every single inch of the bed that you could, and you snored. Chris loved that the most. Nothing crazy. And he would never tell you, but the cute, almost inaudible snores that left your parted lips made him smile.
He snuck downstairs, pulling the door open quietly and squinting his eyes as the light from the hallway attempted to blind him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Connor pushed past him, popping what looked like a cheerio into his mouth. "Just came to see if you wanted to run before the flight today... but I saw someone's car parked in your guest parking spot." He raised an eyebrow inquisitively with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Fuck. He definitely knew.
"Well. I'm not going on a run today. So you can see yourself out." Chris gestured towards the door, hoping that Connor would leave before waking you up, but his grin only grew wider.
"Is Y/N here? She didn't come home last night. Mar told me."
His hands found his hips, sighing in frustration. "Connor, go."
"She's here, isn't she?"
Chris could feel his jaw clench together. "Boundaries, man. Come on."
Connor was the only person who managed to weasel his way into Chris's life. Besides you, of course. As soon as he figured out that Chris lived in the same building as him, he was knocking on his door every morning before practice or every night before a game asking if he wanted to carpool. He was like a golden retriever that wouldn't get the hint. Chris wasn't in the mood to play fetch, yet Connor kept coming back with a tennis ball.
But, Connor slowly worked his way into Chris's life. They would go on runs together and drink coffee in the mornings. He eventually had to discuss 'boundaries' with Connor after one too many early mornings such as this one.
"Your bed got cold–"
Chris groaned, his head falling back to look at the ceiling as his hands rested on his hips. Connor was never going to let this be.
His fist pumped into the air in celebration. "I fucking knew it! Finally!"
He turned to see you on the stairs, groaning inwardly as he drank you in. God, you looked perfect. Your face was a little puffy from sleep, his sweatshirt hanging off of you and showing off your bare legs. Connor seeing this made him nervous. Obviously, he wouldn't tell anyone or risk your job, but what if you hadn't wanted people to know yet? What if this made you change your mind because it was too much too fast?
Chris constantly worried about crossing a line with you. You wanted to take things slow, he understood and appreciated that. He respected it. It showed how strong you were.
You insisted that the pace you were moving at was fine, but still, he worried. He'd already fucked things up once and he wasn't going to do anything to risk the relationship he wanted to build with you.
You smiled at him sheepishly, relief flooding through his body. At least you weren't mad...
"I'll just be upstairs..." You said quietly, turning and jogging back up the stairs.
He turned back to Connor. "Are you done now?"
Connor grinned, shaking the fistful of cereal he had in his hand and tossing another cheerio into his mouth. "Totally." His chin jerked towards the stairwell. "Tell ya girl to get home and get packed. We leave soon."
"Bye, asshole," Chris called out behind him as he walked towards the stairs, ignoring Connor as he laughed behind him. "And don't tell anyone. She could lose her job."
"Why the hell would I do that?!"
"I don't know, get out."
He heard Connor chuckle once more before the front door opened and shut behind him.
"I'm sorry!" Chris called out as he took the last few steps. "I didn't know he was coming over." He walked into his bedroom, stopping in his tracks and letting out a shaky breath. You were trying to kill him. Like actually kill him. You stood by the foot of his bed in just your underwear, breasts exposed and those lace cheeky underwear sending a mess of dirty thoughts through his mind. "Jesus Christ." He muttered under his breath, scratching at his beard.
You smirked and he knew that you knew exactly what you were doing.
Okay, Chris thought, two can play at this game.
He walked over to you, his hand reaching out to gently caress your hip, your skin breaking out in goosebumps in response. Chris slid his fingertips up your side and along your ribcage, watching as your breaths became increasingly jagged. He pressed himself against you, his hand splayed across your bare stomach as he pulled you closer. "Princess," he whispered, lowering his lips to your earlobe. "You better get home and pack. We leave for LAX soon."
Chris reached around you, grabbing his sweatshirt from the bed and pulling it back over your head. "A gift from me to you. One of many, I'm sure."
You feigned annoyance, groaning softly but the smile on your face gave you away. You turned to face him and he silently regretted putting the sweatshirt back on as you slid your arms around his neck. "Best gift ever." You whispered, gently pecking his lips.
"That's all I get?" You stepped away, walking over to where your khakis from last night were pooled on the floor.
"Yup. Morning breath."
Chris rolled his eyes. "Hold that thought." He always had an extra toothbrush lying around in case he left his at whatever hotel he had been staying at when traveling. Stepping into his bathroom, he dug under the cabinet until he located one, turning to hold it out to you. "Here."
He watched as you walked into the bathroom, your pants still on the floor. "Oh, an extra toothbrush for your lady friends. Helpful."
Chris could tell by your tone that you were teasing, but the need to make sure you knew you were the only one overpowered his want to joke about it. He gripped your waist when you walked into the bathroom and pulled you into his chest. "It's only you, princess. I promise."
You smiled, your eyes lighting up as you stared up at him. "I know. I trust you."
Those words coming out of your mouth could've brought him to his knees. He swallowed, his throat burning with emotion. "Good." He replied, his voice strained. "I'm glad."
You stole the toothbrush from Chris, turning to the sink to wet it under the faucet while Chris fetched his own and grabbed the toothpaste.
Something swelled through his chest, an emotion he didn't recognize, as he stood next to you. He had never wanted to share a small moment, like brushing teeth with anyone else. He also didn't think that anyone else had to capability to look so fucking cute with toothpaste dripping out of the side of their mouth.
Yet there you stood.
He laughed mid-brush when you made a face at him and toothpaste dripped from your mouth onto the counter.
Chris must've stared for a moment too long because his gaze caught your attention. "What? Do I have toothpaste on my face?" You asked sarcastically, bending over the sink and rinsing your mouth. Chris chuckled and did the same, handing you a tissue to wipe your mouth.
He stepped into his closet, throwing on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt while grabbing an extra pair of sweats for you. "Here."
"I have my pants..." You gestured towards the khakis laying on the floor, but Chris shrugged in response, thrusting the sweats out further.
"These will look better on you."
You rolled your eyes, taking the sweats from Chris and stepping into them, then securing the tie around your waist. "Are you telling me you don't think I look hot in my super cute, pressed khakis?"
"Trust me, princess. That's definitely not what I'm thinking."
The two of you stared at each other for a moment, the sexual tension in the bathroom making the hair on the back of Chris's neck stand.
"Well... Connor was right... I should probably go."
Chris nodded. He really didn't want you to go, but you guys were seeing each other in just a few hours, and realistically speaking, you would be spending the weekend together. "I guess so. Come on, I'll walk you to your car."
He followed behind you as you gathered your things and then headed downstairs to the living room. You grabbed your keys from the counter and walked with him towards the elevator.
Chris wrapped his hand around yours, his stomach erupting with butterflies when you squeezed his hand gently. He suppressed the smile that desperately tried to form on his lips. He was like a middle schooler around you, grinning from ear to ear at your touch, instantly getting hard when you laid next to him. It was ridiculous.
Your hip bumped up against his, making him look down. "You can smile, you know?"
Then, he let it happen. A grin formed on his lips as he released your hand, snaking it around your waist. "I think I like smiling now."
Your laugh rang out through the small, enclosed elevator and his chest tightened at the sound. "Why's that?"
He bumped his hip against yours. "Because it gets you to smile back."
Chris watched your throat move as you swallowed, the smile on your face disappearing as your eyes remained locked on his. Before he could try and backtrack, nervous that he said something that was too much, you reached up, snaking your hand around his neck and cupping the back of his head. You pulled his lips to yours, Chris tightening his grip around your waist.
All at once, he realized he had completely misread the look on your face and suddenly recognized the emotion that had surged through him earlier. You'd officially been his girlfriend for all of 3 days and already Chris knew what was happening.
He was falling for you. And you were falling for him. But he would let you come to that conclusion on your own.
Chris deepened the kiss, pulling you closer and parting his lips. He tasted the spearmint toothpaste you'd just used moments ago as your tongue swiped against his, your chest pressing against him.
Right as his hands began to move down your body, the elevator dinged when you reached the garage.
You pulled away, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Lost in the moment together, neither of you saw the older man standing outside of the elevator. He cleared his throat, a knowing smile on his face. "Sorry to interrupt."
Chris could feel his face flushing. "Sorry about that." He murmured, ushering you out of the elevator and towards your car.
You laughed, turning to face him when the two of you finally approached your car. "I had a really good night last night."
"Me, too." He responded honestly. Last night was amazing. He contemplated asking if you'd stay with him the night you got back to Boston, but he didn't want to push you.
"See you in a couple of hours?"
He nodded, leaning down to capture your lips once more. He felt the shiver run down your spine, smiling through the kiss. "See you in a couple of hours, princess."
"See you in a couple of hours." You climbed into your car, waving once more after buckling your seatbelt, and pulled out of the parking space.
Yup. I'm fucked.
A couple of hours later, Chris sat on the airplane getting ready to fly them across the country to LA. He was antsy knowing that you were getting ready to board, so unfamiliar with the intensity in which he cared. The feelings he felt for you came on so strong and so quickly, he wasn't really sure what to do with them. So he'd just keep those locked away, only to be professed when you were ready and not a second before.
You stepped onto the plane, luggage in hand and Chris smirked, pleased to see that the sweatshirt he'd given you this morning was still on.
He watched as you made your way down the aisle, lifting your luggage into the carrier and winking in his direction before taking your seat. He thought that maybe you were trying to be subtle about it, but he certainly didn't miss the way you snuggled into the sweatshirt, taking a small breath to smell the fragrance of his cologne and laundry detergent.
He relaxed in his seat after you got comfortable in yours and sighed. This weekend was going to be torture.