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All year I had been looking forward to the summer ballet intensive I was accepted into. It was half the damn reason I stayed in Cali. By the time it was over, I had realized something—I wasn’t living my life, I was going through the motions.
I realized that I didn’t love ballet anymore, I just loved being good at it.
I didn’t love spending all of my time at the studio, I was just comfortable there.
I wanted to spend time with friends.
Friends I have never bothered to make time for before.
Promising myself that would stop, I booked myself on an earlier flight to Philadelphia.
Five hours on a plane gives you plenty of time to think and plan.
My plan was easy.
Start living life.
I’m not sure what that looks like exactly, but finding my tribe is at the top of my list. Having fun and enjoying my senior year are both right under that. Breaking the news to my father that I don’t want to dance anymore is on there somewhere, but I’m dreading checking off that box.
Getting a boyfriend wasn’t on my list, but looking around at the hotties in this room, that may have to change. Murphy is a ginger giant, reminding me of Prince Harry, if he was a tiny bit taller with muscles the size of my head and mossy green eyes. Sebastian is rocking the tall, dark, and handsome thing. He is leaner than Murphy, but he towers over Cooper and Brady.
But of course, it’s the quarterback, Brady, who’s got my attention. With his warm brown hair, a little too long, whiskey-colored eyes, a mix between brown and gold, and, from what I can see, the body of Captain America, he is the epitome of my type. And, his hands are enormous.
HUGE.
I desperately want to know what those calloused fingers would feel like on my skin. I have never had such an intense, immediate reaction to a guy before.
As a rule, I have always stayed away from Cooper’s teammates. It has never been worth the hassle of the hissy fit he will inevitably throw if someone gets near the fragile flower he thinks I am. No one is good enough for me in his mind. I hate it.
When I glance across the kitchen island, a slow smile spreads across Brady’s handsome face. Cooper is in the other room calling in our takeout. Murphy and Sebastian both just headed into the family room to turn on the pregame for Dad’s game tonight. The guys move around each other with an ease that shows the comfort level they have with one another.
There is just something about this guy sitting across from me that is drawing me in. Leaning forward, Brady asks, “So do you watch your dad’s games? Or does that fall under the ‘I hate football’ category?”
“Seeing them all in their element is always fun.” I tilt my head and smile the way the press manager taught me when dad’s team went to the Super Bowl three years ago. The answer is the same, too. I’m from a family of legends, and my job is to look good for the media coverage. “Do you love it, QB, or is it something you do because you’re good at it?”
This time when Brady smiles at me, it’s crooked and sexy. This is his real smile, not the practiced one for everyone else.
This smile is a danger to my heart.
“Wow. You think you’ve me figured out already. How about I love it, and I’m good at it. Being on that field, controlling it; it’s a high I’ve never felt anywhere else. The fact that I’m pretty good at it and might be able to turn something I love into a career is definitely a bonus.”
“Good. My dad always said the best players play because they love it.”
“Sounds like a smart guy. Your turn. What’s your story, Natalie?”
I think about that question for a moment. What is my story? “You know, I don’t know if anyone’s asked me that before. I’m trying to figure out my story. Right now, I am Superbowl winning coach Joe’s Sinclair’s daughter. Occasionally, I’m Heisman runner up Declan Sinclair’s sister. I have always been Cooper Sinclair’s twin. And if my mom had her way, I’d be Prima Ballerina Natalie Sinclair.”
“Is that who you want to be?”
Shaking my head, no, I answer, “Take a girl to dinner before you interrogate her, QB.” I smile up at him through my eyelashes, hoping he’ll take the bait, but no such luck. It’s as if he shakes himself out of the conversation we were just in, and a wall goes up between us.
“You heard your brother, Nat. You are a no-go area. Come one.” He takes my hand, and I swear to God, electricity spikes through my entire arm. “Let’s go see what the guys are doing in the other room.”
The guys decide on no party tonight. Instead, the pizza is delivered, and we watch Dad’s final preseason game, sprawled out all over a giant, dark brown, buttery soft leather sectional. It’s shaped like an enormous U with reclining chairs on each end and a matching leather ottoman with a square tray sitting in the center. This furniture seems to be made for giants, not normal-sized men.
Brady is on one end, and Murphy is on the other. Cooper is in the middle, and Sebastian is on the floor.
These guys are hilarious, and I can see why Cooper gets along so well with them. They give as good as they get. There is a ton of laughter tonight, and I haven’t had this much fun in months. I eat pizza and wings, drink a soda, and don’t even feel guilty about the number that will be higher on the scale tomorrow, because I won’t be putting on my ballet leotard again.
