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SIX
I don’t come with Blair, I arrive.
BEAU
No part of me wants to move.
Cracking my eyelids open, I wake up to sunlight spilling into my penthouse suite before my alarm. A curtain of raven hair spills over my arm, and I’m so fucked because Blair’s body fits perfectly tucked into mine.
I haven’t slept this good since before the game, the Super Bowl I lost, and every time I think about it, my stomach sours.
But now it twists because I have a new pain.
In an hour, I’ll have to force my body to rip away from Blair’s.
Like ripping turf tape off my flesh where I forgot to shave it, this shit is going to hurt, and I did itall to myself.
I let Blair seduce me. I let her bait me into a losing game of trying to outkink her, and now I’ll never be the same. Last night, I lost more to Blair than a game, and it was the best night of my life.
Every Valentine’s Day from here on will suck.
Not like I gave a shit about the holiday before. I just used it and a dozen roses as an easy way to get laid.
But now, I’ll never forget February fourteenth. Now, I’ll remember her that day and at least three hundred and sixty-four other days, too. Burying my nose in her hair, I inhale the peachy shampoo we used last night and the memory.
After our fuck that almost made me pass out with pleasure, we took a legit shower, and Blair let me wash her hair. I stood there, massaging her dark, sudsy strands, and damn, I’d rather be sacked by two, three-hundred-pound linemen than that feeling. That feeling of love rushing my heart so hard I had to hide my gulp for air.
I know she heard me say it. It wasn’t in the heat of passion. I meant it. Blair said it back, and I heard her truth, too.
With some people, even if you don’t see them for years, the love doesn’t die. It’s just this seed in your heart that waits for its chance to bloom again.
Fuck, I’m feeling all poetic and romantic and shit, and I can’t.
A champion quarterback needs to keep his eyes open; his reads and recognitions cannot fail. He requires clarity and decisiveness, too.
If I stay, if I try to make this work, I can read exactly where this will go with Blair. I will fall in love with her. Hell, I never fell out of love with her. But now that I can express it? Now that I’ve felt it? How she fucks me to myknees. How she makes me laugh. How she’s so smart and talented. How I trust her, I can do anything with her. The solution would be simple.
I’d marry her.
I’d make her mine forever.
And that would fuck my world and hers over because my life isn’t that simple. It’s complicated. It’s overwhelming. The feelings I have. The secrets I keep.
The thing I did the night before the Super Bowl.
There’s a part of me that believes Blair would understand. After last night, after what she did to me, she may even desire it, too.
But there’s the other part of me. The defeated man. The losing man. The man who knows I made a big mistake the night before the game.
And my crushed soul can’t lose again.
I’d ratherneverhave Blair than lose her to my whole truth.
So I’ll take half our truth with me.
I have the memories, the photos, and the videos. Yes, I Airdropped them to her, and yes, it took every ounce of discipline I had to delete her number and watch her delete mine, too.
It felt so final.
