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“I know, but I’m miserable now too.”

My heart lurches in my chest. “Why?” I ask softly.

“You’re mad at me. You’re never mad at me. And… I’m mad at you too, and I’m never mad at you.”

I exhale. I can work with this. “Why don’t we leave the bottle down here, and we can go upstairs and lie down?”

“This is your party.”

“Nothing is more important than you, Reese. Surely, you know that by now?” Her green eyes shimmer with tears, and she nods. “Come on, you.” I take the bottle, which she lets me do, and set it on the counter. I then offer her my hand and help her stand. She wobbles on her feet, and instead of risking her falling, I lift her into my arms, bridal style, and carry her out of the kitchen. I don’t make eye contact with Nixon or Tessa when we walk past them. I don’t need to hear anymore. They’ve said their piece, and I heard them loud and clear. Right now, all I want to do is get her upstairs and away from all these drunk assholes. And maybe when she sobers up, we’ll talk. Talk about all the things we’ve been avoiding. Namely, me leaving. Maybe I’ll get the courage to broach the subject with her.

Maybe.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” I ask once we reach the top of the stairs.

“No.”

I walk on past and down the hall to my room. Once inside, I carefully lower her to the bed, then go back and shut the door and lock it. Kicking off my shoes, I walk to the bed and sit next to her. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I feel as though I take the first deep breath I’ve taken since the party started.

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” Her voice is soft.

“I’m not mad at you. I was worried about you. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah.” She sits up and kicks off her shoes before lying back on the bed. “Lie with me?”

Never able to deny her anything, I move to lie next to her. We’re both on our sides, staring into each other’s eyes. It’s intimate, but it doesn’t feel wrong. The party is loud below us, but here, in the confines of my room, we’re both calm. Our silence isn’t uncomfortable; in fact, it’s comforting to me. She’s here with me; she’s safe. That’s all that matters to me. Reaching over, I move her hair that has once again fallen into her eyes.

“I was watching you,” I confess, breaking our long stint of silence. “Like I always do. You looked like you were having fun. Then you went down. I waited three heartbeats before I was pushing through the crowd to get to you. He was just standing there. Sure, he was being backed away from the crowd, but I got through.” She nods. “You deserve someone who will always get through, Reese. Someone who won’t stop until they get to you.”

“You deserve someone who will love you for who you are. They’ll love that football is your life, they’ll respect that. I’m so afraid that you’re going to end up with someone who wants to use you for your name or your contract,” she responds.

“What contract?” I tease to lighten the mood. “I need to get one first.”

“Come on, Coop. We both know that it’s going to happen.”

Her smile, the same one she’s been giving me for years, it does something to me. Turns me inside out. My eyes fall to her lips, and I ache to kiss her. Just once, I’d like to know if her lips are as soft as they appear.

“When you look at me like that,” she swallows hard, “it makes me think you want to kiss me,” she whispers.

“You ever thought about that, Reese? Kissing me?” I toss the question out there. I know that I have more times than I care to admit.

She nods. “Have you?”

“Yes.” I’ll never lie to her. Never.

“All these years, and we’ve never crossed that line.”

“Nope.”

“Maybe we should. You know, just for curiosity’s sake?”

“You want to kiss me?” I smirk. I need to lighten up this mood before we fall into something that we can never take back.

“Yes.” She’s deathly serious. No shadow of laughter in her expression.

“Reese.” My tone is a warning.

“Cooper,” she challenges.

It’s wrong. She’s my best friend, but best friends do this kind of thing, right? They experiment? I mean, college girls who are just friends do it. I’m sure the guys do too. Why can’t Reese and I try it? Just once. Just a small little sample to experience what it’s like. After the thousands of times over the last couple of years that I’ve thought about it, I could put the question to rest.

Her tongue peeks out and wets her lips, and just like that, my decision is made. Moving my hand to rest against her cheek, I move in slow. My eyes hold hers, looking for a sign that she doesn’t really want this. Looking for anything from her that tells me I should stop.

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