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“Maybe you don’t want me to think you’re stalking me.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d texted me. Why didn’t you?” He reaches for my hand, pulling me to him.
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“Hi works.”
“Hi.” Omigod, did I just bat my eyelashes like some adolescent schoolgirl?
“I like this bashful side of you.” A sly grin spreads across his face.
Shit. I did. “That’s good since you seem to bring it out in me.”
“I would’ve stalked you sooner if I knew it’d make you blush like this.”
“This isn’t blushing, it’s heat stroke. From practice.” I point over my shoulder with my thumb.
“In that case, I guess we better get you into a cold shower.”
My body shivers before I can stop it. “That sounds like Heaven and Hell at the same time.”
“Which part is Hell?” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my palm.
“The cold.”
“And Heaven?” Another kiss.
“You in the shower with me.”
“Don’t put images in my head,” he groans. “I came here to see if I can take you to dinner.”
“Don’t you have practice?”
“I’m excused from field work until I’m cleared to play. Mondays are field work. And, I’m hoping, date night with you, at least until the doc gives me the okay to play.”
It’s risky to agree. Between my brother and the fact that a professional career will likely separate us, there’s a high likelihood this will end badly. But what if it didn’t have to? What if Eric’s right, and this little experiment becomes something worth fighting for? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering whether I missed the opportunity for something great because the odds are stacked against us.
“Yeah, I’d like that.” The words are barely out of my mouth before his lips meet mine.
Alex puts his cards face down on the table to check the incoming text. “Dammit. Coach scheduled a practice next weekend. He’s known for weeks I planned to take you to your tryouts, and now suddenly he can’t spare a few days.”
“It’s okay, it’s just tryouts.” It would’ve been nice to have a familiar face there, but after three years of his coach throwing random practices into the mix, I’m used to the erratic football schedule interfering with our plans.
“You shouldn’t have to go to this alone.”
“I can take her.” Eric rearranges the cards in his hand as he speaks. “I’m not cleared to practice yet. Got nothing better to do.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I keep my eyes on my own hand so the whole table doesn’t realize it’s Eric’s words, not the cards, that excite me. “No one has to take me. I’m a big girl.”
“It’s not about you needing someone to take you. It’s about just being there.” Alex runs a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Why don’t your parents go?” asks Trevor.
“They’d have to fly here. That doesn’t make sense when tryouts are only a few hours away, at the Olympic training center in Colorado Springs. But really, I’m fine to go alone.”
“I said I can take you.” Eric nudges my leg under the table as he studies his cards, a silent message to accept his offer. I press my lips together so I don’t break into a smile.
Over the past several weeks of sneaking around, we’ve rarely done the overnight thing again. Between practices and classes, we’ve barely managed to see each other beyond our weekly date night, so most of our interaction has been over whispered phone calls or late-night texts.
I like to think that’s brought us closer. It’s easier to finish conversations about the past that shaped you and the future you want when there isn’t a physical pull to distract you. I’d like more opportunities to get distracted by the physical pull, though, and a quick little trip will be perfect for that. As long as I don’t let sharing a room distract me from my tryouts.
Come to think of it, sharing a room might be a great stress reliever. I steal a glance at Alex, wondering if he can sense the direction of my thoughts. He’s scrutinizing Eric, who fortunately has a bored, disinterested look on his face.
“I want someone to be there for you.” Alex turns to me with a sad smile. “Are you okay if it’s Eric?”
The fact that he’d trust Eric to do this makes me think it’s possible he’d accept Eric as my boyfriend one day, something I’ve been thinking about more and more. It’s only been a few weeks, but the lust I’ve felt for years has already morphed into genuine like.
No one listens to me the way Eric does, not even Alex, who has always been my biggest confidant and supporter. It’s almost like Eric hears what I don’t say, reading my expressions, my tone, even the words I use to text. Before him, I would’ve thought it’d be creepy to have someone read you that well. Turns out, it’s actually pretty nice. It makes me feel special in a way my accomplishments on the field never have, and I’m not exactly a stranger to accolades.
“If you want someone to be with me in your place, I’m okay if it’s Eric.” The brush of his leg against mine under the table tells me he’s just as excited for this little road trip as I am, even though his gaze is focused on his cards.
