Page 96 of Let You Love Me

Iwas fully preparedfor Lane to freak out after Friday night and take a step back from me, so when she showed up on Saturday morning in the parking lot outside the stadium with a bracelet from Sophie, I was floored. Like a fool, I thought maybe we’d skate right past the awkward tension of almost hooking up and move on but based on the conversation I just had with her, I was wrong.

I don’t mind waiting for her to come around. After all, I’m a patient man.

But I also won’t take a back seat.

I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing when it comes to Lane, but I’ve never been passive a day in my life, and I’m not about to change now. Lane can take all the time she needs adjusting to the idea she and I are meant to be together. If she wants to be friends for the next year, so be it. Even if it means twelve months of cold showers and blue balls, I’ll friend the shit out of this thing if I have to.

My guess is something must have happened in the last twenty-four hours to change her mind and plant a seed of doubt. Hell, maybe I’m paranoid, but part of me wonders if Chance somehow got to her. With the way he acted at our game, I wouldn’t be surprised, and it has me once again questioning just what in the hell their relationship is, and why he’s yet to squeal to Coach.

Whatever the reason, her shields are up and stronger than ever, but I won’t let that get me down. Rather than allow her to strengthen them further, I need to attack. Complacency will get me nowhere. Instead, I need to work on finding a way through the armor around her heart, and I can’t do that sitting in my dorm room twiddling my fucking thumbs. Especially not when I’m on the cusp of a breakthrough, and if Friday is any indication, that’s exactly where I am.

Operation Friends-To-Lovers is working. It’s still the best shot I have at breaking down her walls and getting her to trust me, all without pissing off Coach.

I pull into the driveway of the Turner residence and take a steadying breath as I stare up at the large brick house with the perfectly manicured landscaping. Showing up here is a bold move. Even if Lane has told her father we’re friends, I have no idea what his reaction was, and I haven’t had a chance to ask. Yet here I am.

All I can do is pray he doesn’t kick my ass when he sees me standing here, waiting for his daughter.

I swing open my car door before I can second-guess myself and hop out at the same time Lane appears on her doorstep, a sweater wrapped around her slender figure as she stares at me with reproach. “Teagan, you shouldn’t have come.”

I grin. “Didn’t we settle this on the phone?”

“Yeah, I said I didn’t think it was a good idea,” she hisses.

“Right. And I said I’d be here in thirty minutes and to be ready.” My gaze flickers down the tight black leggings thatshowcase her curves then back to her face again, and I stifle a groan. “You ready?”

Her lips twitch, which I take as a good sign. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?” She blinks at me until I step onto the porch. “My father might see you.”

I shrug, feigning indifference even though my stomach tightens with my nerves. “We’ve been hanging out for weeks. We’re friends. He’s bound to find out at some point. Might as well be now.”

It’s true. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but if Friday night proved anything to me, it’s that Lane and I have everything it takes to leave the friend zone, and we’re closer than she’s willing to acknowledge, which is why she’s scared. Hell, we’re light-years ahead of where I thought we’d be.

More proof I’m right for her.

Lane exhales and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, avoiding my eyes. “I told him, but still . . . I don’t just hang out with guys, like,ever.”

I reach out, placing my hand on her stiff shoulders. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“Teagan . . .” She exhales.

“Oh, honey, who’s at the door?” a female voice I can only assume is Lane’s mother calls out.

“Um, no one. Just a salesman,” she yells over her shoulder.

I arch a brow at her and my lips quirk. “A salesman? What exactly am I selling again?”

“Tell him we don’t—oh!” A woman with chestnut colored hair peeks around Lane, eyes wide as she takes me in.

“I’ve got it, Mom.” Lane tries to close the door, but her mother isn’t having it and blocks it with her forearm.

“What’s he selling?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

“But I thought—”

Lane turns and gently pushes her mother away from the door. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it under control.”

“Well, whatever he’s selling, sign me up,” her mother mutters loud enough so I can hear.