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My heart stuttered, and I was desperate to know what he was thinking. But now wasn’t the time to push for answers.
“I found it impossible to make friends,” he said quietly. “I had attachment issues, trust issues, anxiety, depression. You name it, I had it. By the time high school rolled around, I’d gotten really good at pretending. I was good at football, really good, and it became a way for me to communicate. People didn’t want to know how I was. They wanted to know about my stats and my performance on the field. It was easier to play along than have them look too closely.”
“I get that. You hid behind it.”
“I did. But by senior year the pressure was unbearable. I felt like I couldn’t breathe… Slowly, game by game, practice by practice, I cracked. And because I’d gotten so good at pretending, nobody noticed… until it was too late.”
Xander drew in a sharp breath as if saying the words physically hurt him. Or maybe it was the truth behind them. Or the vulnerability of telling me.
Whatever it was, I knew then, that I was right. Xander and I were the same. Our stories weren’t identical, but who we were, who we’d become was.
“Does Cameron know?”
“He knows… bits. But he never understood why I threw it all away.”
“Maybe one day you should tell him.” I peeked up at Xander, surprised to find him watching.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
“I…” Heat flooded my cheeks as I tried to dip my eyes and give myself a second to catch my breath. But Xander’s finger slid under my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “You’re brave and beautiful and you deserve so much more than…”
“Than?”
Him.
He was going to say him.
But he let out a steady breath and said, “The hand you’ve been dealt.”
My heart cinched. He was determined to keep things between us innocent when I wanted nothing more than to climb into his lap, take his rugged face into my hands, and kiss him until we were breathing for each other.
“Thank you,” I said, forcing down the urge to kiss him, “for telling me.”
“I don’t know why but it comes easy with you.” His fingers moved to my cheek, pushing a loose curl back inside my hat. A shiver ran through me at the intimate touch, the suggestion in his words.
But I knew what he meant. For the first time, I found myself wanting to open up too.
His eyes dropped to my mouth again, and I could practically imagine his lips ghosting over mine.
“Xander…”
“Fuck,” he breathed, the air crackling between us. “I know better. I should know better…”
He wasn’t talking to me; he was at war with himself.
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
“No, it isn’t.” He pulled me into his arms, burying my face in his chest. My hands slid over his shoulders as he dropped his chin to my head, holding me. “Nothing about this is okay.”
Xander was holding me like he never wanted to let go. And despite how much I wanted him to kiss me, this was somehow so much more.
“Come to the game Saturday.”
“I have to work,” I said, my words muffled by all the layers between us.
“Change your shift. You should be there… I want you there.”
“You do?” I pulled away, peeking up at him.
