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As Charlotte and Brynn pull out their phones, I stand immobile, my gaze drifting toward the wall of windows. The lights of Houston sparkle below us like a living constellation, and for a moment, it doesn’t feel real that I’m here, in this suite, at this game, with these girls?my new friends?and the very real possibility of a future with Damon on the horizon. We may not be together yet, but whatever this is we’ve started, feels a lot like hope.

I bite my lip, wondering if I should text him just to say we arrived a day early. Unless Jace or Chris mentioned it, he’d have no idea about our change of plans.

Before I can second-guess myself, I’m thumbing through the contacts on my phone until I get to his contact?QBwith a heart beside it. It’s remained unchanged in the time since we’ve been apart.

My fingers hover for one more second, debating on what to say when what I really want to tell him is how much I’m thinking about him. That I’malwaysthinking about him.

Shaking my head, I bite my lip and begin to type:Hey. We had a change of plans and left tonight to beat the weather. We just got to the hotel and I thought you might want to know.

I stare at the message, then send it, and to my surprise, the typing dots appear almost instantly.

QB:

I was wondering if you’d make it with the weather.

ME:

I’m surprised you’re even awake.

QB:

Couldn’t sleep. My brain won’t shut up.

I smile, pacing in front of one of the couches as I remember how nervous he always got in the days leading up to a big game.

ME:

Nervous?

QB:

You could say that. I just don’t want to let everyone down. Coach. The guys. My father.

At one time he would’ve included me in that list, but I can’t exactly feel butthurt he hasn’t. This thing between us is new, still growing, and it’s going to take time for him to trust me with his heart again.

ME:

For whatever it’s worth, you could never let me down, and something tells me you can’t let them down either.

There’s another pause and I bite my thumbnail, wondering if I’ve gone too far, said too much.

QB:

You always did care more about me than winning.

My heart skips a beat, relieved at the sincerity in his words. It’s stupid how much I still react to the simplest things from him.

I exhale, sinking down into the couch Charlotte abandoned and curl my legs underneath me, settling into the plush cushions.

ME:

That’s because I had you. I already won.

QB:

Maybe that’s why losing felt easier then, too. Because you were always there to cushion the blow.

My stomach flips, my heart pounding against my ribs like a prisoner rattling its cage as I try to think of a proper response, one that conveys how much his words mean, but he beats me to it.