The voices belonged to two players, who rounded the corner and promptly stopped laughing when they saw me, their eyebrows cresting up.
“Hello,” I sang as I passed them.
One of them was slack-jawed as he watched me pass, and the other sang right back to me. “Hello to you, beautiful.”
They laughed to each other once I’d passed, saying who knew what, but I didn’t care to try to decipher it.
My heart was hammering in my chest.
We’d almost been caught — becausehe’dbeen so infatuated with me, he was almost ready to risk it.
And fuck if that desperation didn’t make me want him more.
Braden
I was keyed up when I made it home later that night.
Usually on media days, I was drained. I’d come home and face plant on the couch. But this? This was like I’d played a game — a close one.
Like we’d come back from a thirty-point deficit to win the whole thing.
My blood was buzzing, pulse humming in my ears as I hung my keys by the door and stepped out of my sneakers. I slid my sock-covered feet right into my slides next, making my way to my kitchen and pouring a tall glass of ice water.
I downed it.
And still felt no relief.
Call her.
It was a stupid thought, just like it had been stupid to text Emily at all today. I knew better. I knew the rules, the risk if I broke them.
And yet…
I hadn’t been able to resist.
And seeing her round that corner in her cheer uniform, that white fabric painted on her curves, the Seahawks logo on her chest, the hair and the makeup and those long, toned legs beneath that skirt…
It was enough to drive me to madness. And it had.
My stomach was too knotted to eat anything, so I grabbed a protein shake from my fridge before walking out to my back patio. I had a perfect view of the lake, the sun setting just beyond it, painting the sky a bright golden shade that danced with the incoming blue of dusk.
I flopped down in a chair, pulled my phone out, and called Dad.
“Hey, son,” he greeted warmly. I didn’t have to see him to know he was smiling. “How’s it going?”
“I need advice.”
“Your mother is usually the better one at that,” he said with soft amusement. “But she’s with Ginny in the bathroom for a shower, so I’ll try my best to compensate.”
I smiled. Mom was so great at showers and baths with Ginny. She had a way of making it fun just like she did for us when we were kids. One of my first memories was of her filling our bathtub with so many bubbles that they spilled over the sides.
She never cared about the mess. Only the memories.
“Have you ever been tempted by something you knew would lead to consequences, but you couldn’t walk away from?”
My father paused for a long moment. “Are we talking about drugs?”
Technically? No. Metaphorically?
