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“Ooh, I like that drink bottle,” I said to Sawyer. “I could have that.”
Sawyer frowned and clutched it possessively. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I like it too.”
“You have a hundred drink bottles,” I cried. Which he did.
“You can have mine,” Cullen piped up, having not said a word while eating his apple pie and cream.
“Ah, I’m only joking, I have plenty of drink bottles,” I said. But I could see Cullen was a little distracted, maybe coming to grips with the enormity of the situation—his last game played under his father’s coaching.
“Do you wanna get some air?” Cullen asked, already taking my hand. Music started to play and people moved to the dance floor, but we walked out into the corridor.
I wasn’t sure if he was going to literally take us out into the fresh air, because it was pretty cool out. My dress had long sleeves, but it was short and I didn’t have a coat. Cullen stepped outside and immediately breathed in deeply, like he’d been suffocating in there.
“Are you okay?”
He blinked rapidly and ran his hand through his hair. Then he took off his suit jacket and said, “Ah, sorry, you must be freezing,” and he draped it over my shoulders and held me close.
“You sure you’re okay?” I said, liking the warmth from his body heat. “That was quite the speech from Coach.”
“Yeah, it sure was,” Cullen said, “and to think he’s staying at Covington Prep.”
“You’re shocked?”
“Yeah, totally. He always talked about winning the title, then hoping to get headhunted by a college. Once I left, he said there would be no reason to stay.”
“Oh. Well, your Mom will be pleased. I guess she’d rather stay close to your Granddad and Nana, especially after his heart attack.” In his arms, I felt Cullen’s body still.
“Yeah. I guess Mom and Dad must have had a pretty big talk ,” he said, letting out a sigh of relief. His hand threaded through my hair, burying them in the luscious curls my mother had styled. I didn’t want him to ever take his hands away, tingles soaring through my body like sparks of electricity.
His chin rested on the top of my head. “Everything he said, about treating each other being the important thing...”Cullen’s voice faltered as he drew back to look me in the eye, “...that’s all because of you, Sierra.”
My eyes widened and my eyebrows lifted. “Me?”
“You texted my Dad.” I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or an accusation.
I bit down on my lower lip, a hesitant nod, but a frantic explanation. “I didn’t want you to get into trouble. ‘Cause it wasn’t your fault.” I was distracted by Cullen’s hand cradling my face but I kept going. “It wasn’t fair that he blamed you.”
His finger drifted to my mouth, holding it against my lips in a hush signal.
“Sierra, you saved me,” Cullen whispered.
His finger was making my lips tingle and the look in his eyes was making me breathless. And I did know that I’d saved him—or I’d tried to, I’d wanted to.
Because when someone means the world to you, you do whatever you have to.
“Well, actually, you saved me first,” I said, my words coming out in a rush. “Remember when I hurt my ankle and you helped carry me off the field? You saved me then. And what about that time on the waterslide when I spun around and bumped my head and went under, and you pulled me out of the water?”
“Yeah, you were nine,” Cullen said with a laugh.
“You remember?”
“Of course I remember,” he said. “Sawyer had raced back up again. He was supposed to wait for you.”
“I could have drowned!” I said dramatically.
“Well, then I would have had to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” Cullen said.
I smiled. “Oh...yeah.”
