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“It’s okay,” he says with a genuine warmth I’m not used to. “I’m more than happy to put in the work and earn that information.” He smiles but then it drops and his brows crease. “Although, I’ve only got a week, you said. And with a game this weekend, I have even less time.” He runs his hands down his face, joking like it’s all too stressful for him, and I laugh.
“I’ll be at the game. Maybe we can meet up after?” I offer.What?! He’s never going to agree to that.
His hands drop from his face, and a smile brightens his features. “Works for me. And what about tomorrow? Are you free tomorrow?”
Sucking my lips into my mouth, I try to hide my giddy grin but it shines through. “There’s no playing hard to get for you, is there?”
Wes laughs. “I was actually told to play hard to get in case you were a stalker. All you did was wave, and I fucked that idea right off. Please tell me you’re not a stalker.”
“I’m. Not. A. Stalker.” I say it robotically like I’m just repeating his words back to him, giving him a cheesy grin when his eyes narrow.
“You’re not giving me much confidence here, Lucy. You keep showing up where I am. You know a hell of a lot about me and football in general, and you keep trying to get in my pants. It screams stalker.”
I bark out an obnoxious laugh before burying my face in my hands, peeking through a gap while I continue to giggle. Wes drops his serious facial expression and laughs along with me.
“You wish I was trying to get in your pants,” I say with an exaggerated eye roll.
“Actually, it’s nice that you’re not.” He shrugs and it has an instant calming effect on me. As though in the back of my mind I’ve been nervous that’s what he wanted but I hadn’t realized it until now.
“Good. I’m glad we’ve had that conversation because…” I pause, not sure what I was going to say. I’m not at all here to get in his pants, and I’m happy he’s not trying to get into mine. But I’m not sure what to say because…he wants to get to know me. But why? And am I ready to get to know anyone?
Wes reaches out and mimics my earlier affection, gently placing his hand on my arm. My pulse spikes, but I don’t shy away from his touch. “I have no expectations, Lucy. None. I just want to get to know you. I don’t know anything past that.”
His words penetrate my soul, and I believe every one of them. And while I may be wrong—I’ve definitely fallen into this trap before—this time, I don’t think I am.
The rest of the night flows effortlessly, and when it starts to get late, Wes walks me to my door. He doesn’t go in for a goodnight kiss or even a hug. Instead, he takes a step back and waits for my move.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say and then pause, taking a deep breath before I leap. “I can probably meet for a late lunch tomorrow. If you’re free,” I continue, reaching for the door handle.
Wes smiles. “I can make a late lunch work. Two p.m.? Same place?”
“Sounds perfect.”
He waits until I’m inside before he starts backing away, and when he’s a few steps down the hall, I offer him some faith. “My brother’s name is Dylan. Dylan Mathers,” I whisper-yell and watch as Wes’s eyes light up and his smile brightens.
He nods as I move to close the door, and just before it clicks shut, I hear, “See you soon, Lucy Mathers,” followed by a soft chuckle.
Chapter Four
Wes
Ican’tkeepthesmile off my face as I walk away, and I’m still smiling at practice the next morning.
“You’re acting weird, and I don’t like it,” my best friend, Carter, says, lining up beside me for the next play. He pulls at the scruff under his chin, eyeing me suspiciously as I shake my head with a grin. And when I turn my focus back to the field—where it should remain—he frowns at me for not giving him an answer.
“I’ll get it out of you at lunch,” he huffs as our quarterback calls the play.
I take off in a run, prepared to block for our running back who issupposedto have the ball. But he doesn’t. They switched up the play. Why? I have no idea. Maybe they’re trying to ensure we’re all paying attention. And clearly, I’m not.Goddammit.
“That was abysmal,” Carter yells when I run back to my position. He’s right. That was awful. And I should be mad about it, but I’m not.
“Johnson!” Coach booms, and I flinch, becausehe’sdefinitely mad about it.“Where’s your head today?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Carter mumbles beside me.
Gripping my neck, I smile apologetically before shaking out my shoulders. “Sorry, Coach. Won’t happen again.”
This isn’t me. I don’t lose focus for anything anymore. And I’m still new here. I need to prove myself. But fuck, it’s hard to get a certain brunette out of my mind. Maybe the other guys are onto something…hooking up during the season would definitely make it less of a big deal when it happens.Thisis a first for me, and it shows.
