Page 142 of The Love Playbook

“None of this would’ve happened without you in my life, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he says as he pulls into the parking lot and finds an empty spot.

Putting the car in park, he turns to face me, his eyes as clear and blue as the sky above.

“Well, I do.”

“I mean, I am pretty fucking awesome,” he says as he unbuckles his seat belt and leans toward me.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “You are.”

“And handsome with classically good looks, a banging body, and talented on the field and in the sheets. I mean, I’m an enigma, really.”

“And humble. You forgot humble, too.”

“Right. Definitely humble.” He grins. “So does that mean you’ll keep me?”

I inch closer, my gaze dipping to his mouth. The one that’s sweet by day and torturous at night. “Did I ever have a choice?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” he whispers, and then he kisses me.

CHRIS

The locker room is alive with an infectious energy, a tangible sense of euphoria that buzzes through the air. The sound of laughter, music, and clapping bounce off the walls, mixing with the memory of the final whistle and the Griffins bringing home another win. We did it—advanced to the semifinals. Two games are the only things standing in our way from becoming the National Champions.

With Coach’s victory speech lingering in the air, the team huddles together. Our captain and QB, Damon Huhn, stands on one of the benches in the middle of the locker room, his face split by a grin that’s equal parts pride and disbelief.

He holds his helmet under the crook of his arm, shaking his head in awe. “I told you guys we had it!” he yells, his voice a craggy drawl from hours of shouting out commands on the field. “We’ve earned every second of this, and we’re not stopping here!”

The room erupts in cheers, players slapping each other on the back, some raising their fists in triumph. Each one of us dug deep for every last ounce of strength on the green and as a result, pulled out a win in overtime.

Jace lets out awhoopbeside me, slapping Damon on the ass with a towel. “Notre Dame, we’re coming for you, baby!”

“That’s right, boys. But just remember this is one step.” Damon points a finger at the ground. “We still have two more games until we’re named national champs, and the next game is going to take everything we’ve got. So, enjoy tonight, gentlemen, because tomorrow our asses are back at work. We’re not here to stop at the semifinals. We’re going all the way.”

“Yeah, baby!” I clap him on the back as he jumps down from the bleachers. “Best damn QB in the conference.”

Damon shakes his head. His hair is damp from sweat, and his cheeks are pink from his exertion on the field. He glances between me, Jace, and Brandon. “Couldn’t have done it without any of you.”

I take a dramatic bow. “I mean, we are the fucking best offensive line in the league, and Brandon is one hell of a lineman, so . . . you’re welcome.”

“We’re celebrating tonight?” Jace raises a hand and Damon slaps it.

“Hell, yes, we’re celebrating. Is that even a question?” I ask before I point right at Damon. “And you, my friend, are letting loose. No playing the responsible QB tonight. I want you drinking and dancing with girls. In fact, I wanna see some chick attached to you like a fucking leech.”

Damon snorts, and I can tell he’s about to make a smart remark about me and Charlotte when I slap a towel in his arms, and tell him to hit the showers, then hurry to get one of my own.

Twenty minutes later, I leave the locker room and hit the parking lot, where I make a beeline for the Boss and spot a spunky brunette waiting for me inside.

Unable to fight my smile, I open the back door and throw my stuff on the seat before sliding behind the wheel. Her smile widens, her dark eyes sparkling like onyx under the overhead lights. She’s so beautiful it hurts, and I can’t believe she’s mine. “You did it,” she murmurs.

“We did it,” I confirm, and then she flings herself into my arms and crushes her mouth to mine, her lips soft and warm despite the cold.

By the time I pull away, the windows are steamed and we’re both breathless as I brush the hair from her face. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, making my heart thump inside my chest before a wide grin splits her lips. “How does it feel to have only two games standing between you and the National Championship?”

“Not as good as it feels to have you in my arms.”

She tips her head back and laughs, and I savor the sound, remembering how not that long ago, it was so rare coming from her. “Ever the charmer, Chris Collins.”