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“We’re still winning,” he offered, leaning toward me as if to nudge me into bucking up before he pulled away again. “And I don’t mind the boobs. Especially right now.”
When I realized I’d been pressing one against his arm, I jerked away and gaped at him. “Wick,” I scolded, though I wasn’t all that sure why I was scolding him. For bringing it up, I guess.
He sent me an innocent glance. “What? I didn’t say you had to stop smashing them against me.”
“Good,” I muttered. “Because I was really comfortable like that.” I settled back against him, relaxing more deeply into his arm.
For a minute, we watched the game in silence as our defensive players prevented the rival team from making a first down. Then he murmured, “See, they don’t even need me. My guys got everything under control just fine.”
I smiled sadly. Topher never would’ve said that. He didn’t think any of his offensive players would survive if he weren’t there to direct their every breath. He would’ve been bitching every minute about missing the game, too.
“I bet you still wish you were out there,” I told Wick.
He shrugged. “Even if we make it to playoffs, I have less than a month left of playing football…forever. Missing one game isn’t that big of a deal.”
Yeah, this guy was definitely a sweetheart behind all his grumpy moodiness. Here he was, miserable about his suspension, yet he was trying to make me feel better, while I was the very reason for his problems in the first place. They just didn’t make guys like Wick Webster anymore.
In my ear, where I still had one of the earbuds plugged in, they mentioned how well José Rivera was doing in Wick’s place.
“I like these announcers better than the ones on TV,” I decided. “They’re not talking smack about you.”
“Just to be clear,” he cut in as if not hearing me. “I’m still supposed to be ignoring the boobs, right? Or now that you pressed them back to me after I mentioned them, does that mean I’m allowed to—”
“You’re ignoring them,” I said.
He huffed out a breath. “Damn.”
I sent him a dry glance. “Do you want me to move them away?”
“Hell no.” The glance he sent me was utterly offended. “They’re like my consolation prize for missing out on the game. Since, you know, that was all your fault.”
The sarcasm in his voice made me roll my eyes. “You’re so funny.”
“Sure,” he answered, just as dryly. “We’ll call it that.”
“Oh, hey,” I said, remembering my conversation with Darcy from earlier since we were talking about boobs, which made me think of sex, and ergo my STD test results. “I heard about your negative pregnancy test. My condolences. Better luck next time, though.”
He glanced at me with such a frown that I had to laugh.
Shaking his head, he muttered, “She told you about that, huh? Only Darcy.”
“I think it’s great,” I said. “She’s such a hoot.”
“She’s definitely something,” he agreed moodily.
Grinning, I held up a fist. “Well, my tests all came back great, so I’m super relieved.”
His gaze sliced to me alertly. “Did they? That’s great.” He gently bumped his fist against mine. “I was worried for you.”
“So was I, honestly.” After blowing out a grateful breath, I smiled at him. “Which means, I’m kind of in love with your sister at the moment for getting some nearly immediate results back t
o me.”
A proud smile lit his face. “Yeah,” he murmured. “She does have her okay moments, I guess.”
“Must run in the family.” Smiling, I rested my cheek on his shoulder again. He tipped his face down in order to press his lips to my hair.
And together, we watched my ex throw an awful pass that caused an interception.
