I’m somewhere between awake and asleep when I hear her whisper, her voice soft but full of warmth.
“Only a little longer to go, little Tremblay. I’m good if you want to take a nap.”
Little Tremblay.I snort, my eyes cracking open just in time to catch her adjusting those sexy-as-fuck glasses on her nose.
"You know," I murmur, voice already going rough with exhaustion, "I'm glad you weren't wearing those glasses the night we met."
She smirks. I can hear it without looking. "Why not? Do you hate them?"
I reach down and press the button on the side of the seat, reclining it just enough. Let my eyes fall shut.
"No." My voice drops. "That's the problem. I fucking love them on you."
I feel her smile without seeing it.
"If you'd had the glasses and that fiery red hair..." I trail off, too tired to filter myself the way I normally would. "I don't think I would've let you leave."
And for once, she’s quiet. There’s a heavy beat of silence that follows before I add, “I chased after you.”
The silence stretches.
“But you didn’t want to be caught.” I drift off completely this time, letting exhaustion finally drag me under while I’m serenaded by some emo ballad byEvanescence. Something I wouldn’t believe I’d ever fall asleep to. But that’s the power of being around Bri. It makes me feel things I never thought I could feel. It makes me admit things I didn’t think were possible.
Like how being around her makes me the happiest I’ve been in over a year. Like how badly I want to stay in this road trip bubble where it’s just us and the real world doesn’t exist.
Chapter 19 – Brianna
Gravel crunches beneath my tires as I pull into the hotel where Kelly and Sawyer are staying. It’s only two stories high, and the lights in the parking lot are dimmed now, but it isn’t a total dump. Plus, it’s close to the airport.
I’d called ahead while Seth was sleeping to make sure they had two rooms available—one for me and one for him—because even though I’m running on fumes and a sugar-fueled energy drink high, I knew we’d both need a place to crash when we arrived. But now that I’m here, staring at the blinking hotel sign, feeling the buzz of sugar and too much caffeine flowing through my veins, and the quiet parking lot that looks almost eerie this late at night, I’m wondering if I’ll even sleep tonight.
Probably not.
Even without that cola I just chugged and the nerd clusters I downed, I doubt I’d be able to shut my brain off long enough to rest. I’ll likely just sit in my room, scrolling through channels I’mnot really watching or reading a book while my mind spins in a thousand different directions until I conclude on the fact that I just shared more with Seth about my mom and dad than I have with anyone else in my life.
I’m an over-sharer by nature, but my mom is sacred, and my dad is off limits to most. So why did I do that?
“Hey, Seth. We’re here.”
I nudge him gently, my hand brushing his arm. Beneath my fingertips, solid muscle jumps at the contact, and for a second, I’m caught off guard by it. I work with professional athletes every day. I spend my life surrounded by people built differently than the average person. But sometimes I forget just how physically imposing Seth is until moments like this.
Maybe it’s because I usually see him on the ice, wrapped in layers of padding and equipment. Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten used to him. But being trapped in my SUV with him for hours has really driven the point home. The man takes up space.
His shoulders seem too broad for the passenger seat. His thighs are so big they crowd the center console. Even asleep, he looks dangerous, all long limbs and solid muscle packed into a vehicle that suddenly feels much smaller than it did when I started the drive.
I notice the thick forearms resting in his lap, the callused hands, the sheer size of him when he’s not moving and completely relaxed. It all makes me feel very aware of the fact that Seth is a lot bigger than me.
I love that.
“Hey,” I nudge him again but there’s still no response. The man is passed out. I try again, pressing a little harder this time.
“Seth…” I whisper, leaning in closer. His breathing is deep and steady, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted. God, why does he have to look so good even when he’s sleeping? His broad chest rises and falls in a rhythm that makes me want to curl up beside him. Maybe I could get some sleep tonight if I was held in his arms. I wonder what that’d feel like. My ex didn’t love to do it. Said he got overheated too easily…
Nope. Don’t go there, Bri.
I sigh, briefly considering whether I should just let him sleep in the car until morning. We could probably sit here for a few hours and save ourselves the money. But then I remember exactly who’s passed out in my passenger seat. Seth Tremblay isn’t just some guy who can sleep folded into an SUV all night. He’s one of the Manhattan Mayhem’s most valuable players, and the last thing I need is for him to wake up with a crick in his neck because I was trying to save myself the hotel bill money.
The man’s body is his livelihood, and right now, I know his hamstring is tight since it’s cramped into the front seat of my SUV like he’s trying to fold himself into a pretzel. Not ideal for a guy who just played a huge debut game with his new, professional team and who my dad has paid a lot of money to have on his team. That’s probably the least romantic thought I could be having about Seth right now.
