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“Of course he does,” I huffed. “Would it matter to you if I did have a boyfriend?”Thank you, whiskey.

He hesitated, taking a moment with whatever words were swirling through that pretty head of his. “I’m not sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I immediately replied, narrowing my eyes at him.

He took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, and then shrugged again. “It means that it’s pretty obvious I’m into you, but Jaymes already threatened cut off my legs if I so much as thought about it.” He laughed, but it wasn’t funny. I wanted to run inside and punch Jaymes in the face. “There’s something there between you two that I clearly know nothing about, and Jaymes is a really good friend of mine, so…” he left the words hanging, leaving me to fill in the blanks:So, I can’t have you. You can’t be mine. I can’t touch you. Whatever this could’ve been between us, ends here.

And as much as I wanted tokillJaymes, I couldn’t help it…through the weight that had settled in my stomach, I smiled. “You’re into me?” I asked.

Yep. That’s what I had taken from all that. Because the more I thought about it, the more I wasn’t too worried about the rest of it. I wanted one thing and one thing only, and there was no way in hell I was going to let Jaymes keep me from getting it.

Ten Before

“HOLY MOTHER OFall things holy,” Sara whispered, sighing dramatically. “Remind me again why we’ve never done this before?”

“I don’t…” were the only words that got past my lips before I swallowed the rest of them whole, because there he was. Joining his teammates out on the football field. In full gear. Big, bulky, padded jersey, and those pants. Those pants that didn’t hide much of anything. Not those muscled calves, or those toned thighs, or up higher, to his tight…

I swallowed thickly.

Arms. I was totally talking about his arms. I swear.

So…that’s what Greyson looked like in uniform.

Okay. I could handle it. I could totally handle it.

I turned and buried my face into Sara’s side. “Oh. My. God,” I groaned. Whined. Maybe cried a little.

“Singing to the choir, girl. Singing to the choir!” She stood up, pulling me with her. “This is going to be so much fun! Let’s go. Hurry up. Hurry!”

We nearly tripped over ourselves getting down the empty bleachers, cameras in hand. We were working on a photography project:“Life in Action,”and Sara had called dibs on the football team. I don’t think I’d ever been more thankful for something in my life.

Okay, okay. Get it together,I told myself as we reached the sideline. Sara crouched down and immediately started taking some photos. It took me a little longer to snap into action, my eyes still glued to the team—okay, on Greyson—lining up on the thirty-yard line. Because seriously? How the hell was I supposed to take a decent photo when Greyson was standing in front of me dressed like that?

But somehow, eventually—by some miracle—I managed.

I focused on the team, the way they moved out on the field, practiced and synchronized like a dance routine. I focused on my camera, on the snap of the shutter and on timing a shot just right.

A player leapt into the air to complete a catch.Snap.Tumbled to the ground.Snap.Fumbled the ball.Snap.

Hishand reached out for it, straining, his fingers finally grasping the ball in a desperate grip.Snap.

It was easy to lose myself this way. In the quiet and stillness that came with watching life through the lens. I’m not even sure how much time must have passed by, but before I knew it Coach Anderson had blown the whistle, players halting in their tracks.

Greyson slid his helmet off.Snap.

Shook out his hair.Snap.

Squeezed water into his mouth.Snap.

Water spilled from his mouth and trailed all the way down his chin and neck.Snap, snap, snap.

He looked over at me then, a slow smile forming on his lips.

The way I saw it, I had one of two options: One, I could pretend I hadn’t had my camera zeroed in on him for the past few minutes and completely ignore that knowing smirk of his. Or two, I could keep my camera steady, and capture everything about him that made my insides feel like a swarm of butterflies had just come to life and were fluttering their giddy wings against every cell of my body.

So, I did what I had to do; I went with option two, taking pictures of him the entire time he was walking towards me.

“Hey, Jess. What are you guys doing out here?” He was out of breath, his voice raspy and strained. It forced a hundred different images through my mind, a hundred alternate scenarios for why his voice would sound that way.