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“If you wanted a picture of me, all you had to do was ask.”

“With an ego that size, I don’t know how you were able to fit your head through the front door when you got here.” I frantically pushed theVIEWLIVETVbutton, and my remote finally cooperated with me.

“Everyone has an ego. Mine is just bigger and better.”

I didn’t realize I had been smiling until he held up ten fingers. He was going to run out of fingers soon. Would I be getting toe counting next? I switched the channel over to ESPN.

“I’m serious about the photo. I can have my assistant send it to you whenever. I’ll even autograph it.”

He laughed when I hit him with the pillow I had on my lap.

We watched the recaps of the other NFL games that had taken place today, arguing about and analyzing the teams and specific plays.

“Do you know what I like best about you?” Evan asked me about an hour later. “It’s like you’re one of my guy friends who loves sports, only you’re in a hot woman’s body.”

“Thanks? I think?” That was random.

“It was definitely a compliment. I love how much you know about sports.”

That was the last thing I could clearly remember him saying to me. We were quiet after that, watching the recaps. My eyelids felt heavy.

I woke up hours later, curled up on my couch. Evan was on the other end, lightly snoring, his feet up on the coffee table. He couldn’t have been comfortable.

How had we both fallen asleep? The TV was still on. I used the remote to turn it off.

I checked my nearly dead phone. It was just past three o’clock in the morning. I had a blanket from my bedroom on me. Which meant I must have passed out before he did, and he went and got it for me.

And didn’t leave.

Which he needed to do, right now. I didn’t want him to spend the night here. No matter how boyish he looked while he slept.

“Evan.” I shook his arm, my hand resting against his bicep. Good grief, but it was rock hard and solid underneath my hand. I took an extra second to appreciate it before I tried again to wake him up. “Evan, you need to wake up.”

He came to and gave me a groggy smile. “What time is it?”

“Three. You should go.”

“Sorry,” he said, putting his feet on the floor. “You fell asleep, and I wanted to catch the tail end of the show before I left, and I guess I fell asleep, too.”

I stood, letting the blanket fall onto the couch. He yawned and stretched, and I had to avert my gaze so I didn’t lap up the sight of his muscles flexing along his skin and under his shirt.

He said in a joking tone, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Yes. I want you to stay.“If there’s some paparazzo out there waiting for you, we wouldn’t want anyone to question your virtue if you ended up staying here all night.”

“Lately I’ve been realizing that I don’t really care what other people think.”

What was that supposed to mean?

He checked his pockets and got to his feet. He went over to my kitchen chair and put his jacket on. I backed up, not wanting to be too close. There was something entirely too intimate about us falling asleep together on the couch. We hadn’t cuddled up or anything, but still.

I was suddenly struck with a memory of my dad talking about our dog, who would not sleep unless he was with me or my sisters. He’d said we were to take that as a huge compliment because Buster had come from a long line of predators, and by choosing to sleep with us, he was showing us he was willing to be vulnerable with people he trusted.

Was that something my psyche was trying to tell me? That I could trust Evan?

Or that I already did?

I walked him to the door, and the air around us felt charged and heavy, like he wanted to say or do something. Or like I wanted him to.