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NOAH

“Wait a second,” Charlotte says, pulling away to look up at me. “Why are you even here?”

The corners of my lips quirk upward as I fight a smile. “I’m coaching this summer.”

“What?!” she shrieks so loudly it almost blows an eardrum. Guess I better get used to it since my new girlfriend’s a cheerleader. “You’re going to be here the entire camp?”

“Yep.” The grin breaks fully free. “Coach Porter was thrilled when I got drafted by Tampa, and he asked me to mentor this year.” Since the university’s coaches aren’t allowed to be here, he wanted to have some eyes on the inside to know how his players are doing.

“How much did you make him beg?” she asks with a brow waggle.

“A decent amount,” I lie.

He didn’t even need to ask twice before I started packing.

“Somehow I totally fumble the ball, and you’re just ready to swipe it up.”

“Well, I am excellent at both football and being your best friend.” My wrist buzzes, and I check the smart watch notification. “I’ve gotta go. My first training starts in ten minutes. We’ll catch up tonight?”

“Yeah.” She grins up at me. “Thank?—”

“Don’t.” I point a finger her way.

“I appreciate you.” She winks, terribly , and I laugh.

“Sure, I’ll allow that.”

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this for me.” After all I’ve done, is she really so shocked?

“ Mi fai impazzire, ” I say, the admission making my stomach swirl even though I know she doesn’t understand.

She narrows her eyes. “Again with the Italian.”

“Guess you should add it to your curriculum.”

* * *

“I thought graduating would end your reign of torture,” Julian groans, sweat dripping off his face.

“Shut up and run,” I tease as they do another fifty-yard side shuffle.

My wrist buzzes, and I glance at it.

Unknown Number

Have a great first day of practice, handsome! Xox Hannah

Seriously? After running into her at the Barracudas’ stadium, she won’t leave me alone. I still don’t know how she got my number—I’m assuming her dad’s phone without his knowledge.

I ignore the notification, as I have the ten before it. Leaving people on read kills me, but she’s crossing a line here. I’m also not about to piss off my new boss, or my new girlfriend , by making it seem I’m even remotely interested.

A glance at the time, along with the rest of the teams wrapping up, has me blowing my whistle. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Hit the showers.”

They collapse on the field, and I laugh. I’ll admit, I am having fun torturing them instead of being tortured for once. As if I didn’t do a seven-mile run this morning. The suggested cardio of the day was five miles, but Mamma didn’t raise no quitter, so I finished the trail near my house before heading to camp.

Charlotte is on the sidelines, hot and flushed, with the CBU cheerleaders. Mostly hot. They’re drinking water and dripping in sweat as the Florida sun beats down on us. I make my way over, ready to get this dating thing on the road.

“Hey, soffione ,” I say, and Charlotte turns to face me with an amused expression.

“Well, hey to you too.” She beams.

Her cheermates eye us curiously, and I glance at Andi, who shoots me a wink. I cock my head, signaling for Charlotte to walk to me. She strolls over in black spandex shorts perfectly hugging her curves and a CBU sports bra that shows a beautiful amount of cleavage. A bead of sweat slips down from her collarbone, disappearing between the valley of her breasts, and I take a shaky breath, forcing my eyes away.

Fake dating, I remind myself.

“Having a good first day?” I ask, relishing in the looks we’re getting as the Andrews U team, Jonathan included, walks by us.

“So far so good. You?” she replies.

“Just got better.” I throw my arm around her shoulders, and she squirms in an attempt to shrug me off. She’s terrible at this. I grasp tighter and lean down, whispering, “Jonathan’s coming.”

She freezes and whispers back, “I’m really sweaty.”

“That’s fine.” My lips graze her ear as I speak, and she shivers. “Pretend I said something funny.” She giggles, then looks up at me, our noses touching. “Perfect,” I tell her, pulling away as Jonathan passes, giving me a look that says I might end up buried in the woods.

Better share my location with the boys later.

“Doesn’t the camp have a no-fraternizing policy?” she asks, glancing around hesitantly.

“We’re all consenting adults. They aren’t stupid enough to believe a bunch of tightly wound athletes would refrain from sex for a month.” It’s the truth. I checked. “And if anyone asks, we’ll say we were dating before camp started, which we could prove with pictures and whatnot.”

Easily. It’s as if she forgot we’ve been friends for months and have an arsenal of fun facts to prove it.

She chews on her cheek. “That makes sense.”

“Come to my cabin tonight?” I ask, and she furrows her brows. “So we can discuss some details .”

“Okay, what’s your cabin number?”

“Three.” I lean down, and whisper, “You did great by the way.” I press a kiss on her cheek and walk away, my lips tingling as I fight a smile.

“Noah!”

Turning, I find Elijah and Theo chasing after me.

“Damn,” Theo says, clapping me on the back. “I guess you got your own tits and tequila now.”

I laugh, shaking him off. “Shut up.”

“Only took you what?” Elijah counts on his fingers. “Ten months?”

“She was taken for most of them,” I point out, trying to suppress my annoyance at the unwelcome reminder.

“She shouldn’t have been.” Elijah shakes his head.

“Touché to that.” I agree, and we bump fists.

A group of guys passes us, and Jonathan’s gaze pierces me. That’s right, McFuck Face. I shoot him a wink and keep walking. What was it you said about Charlotte not being mine?

“Is he gonna be a problem?” Elijah asks.

“Nah, but it would be nice if he’d back off my girl,” I say, and damn if that doesn’t feel good flying off my tongue.

My. Girl.

FAKE. DATING.

“Say the word. It’s done,” Theo says. “I mean it. I know people.”

“Um…” I give him a sideways glance. “Appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Elijah and I share a look, then burst out laughing.

“Glad you guys think it’s so funny,” Theo says with a mocking smile. “Like I said, let me know if you ever want to make someone disappear.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

“And that’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?” William Dickson, retired eight-time reigning Super Bowl champion and infamous running back, says while giving his annual speech during the welcome dinner. “I founded this camp to ensure the up-and-coming generations could spend time reconnecting with what they love about their sport. To push boundaries and come out stronger athletes by the end of it. I want you all to learn from your coaches and your peers, keep an open mind, and most importantly, have a damn good time!”

The room erupts in hoots and hollers, but I’m at the “adults” table, as Charlotte would say, where only polite claps are permitted, so I remain composed. My eyes find her across the room, and it kills me not being near, especially with the CBU tank top tight across her chest, pulling all of my attention there.

Unfortunately, I’m not the only one whose gaze she’s captured. Jonathan won’t stop staring, and I have garlic bread at the ready next time I catch him. I take a deep breath and release it slowly. He is not worth wasting precious garlic bread. I bite off a delicious chunk and toss the other half on my plate, throwing dagger eyes instead. He inhales a fork full of salmon, and I gag. Just like the disgusting food, he leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

“Alright,” Dickson says, regaining my attention. “Everyone get some sleep. Practice starts nice and early tomorrow.”

The campers rush out of the room to do anything but sleep, and the commotion causes me to lose sight of Charlotte. I pull out my phone, hoping to catch her before she wanders off, or worse, Mr. Fuck Face finds her.

CHARLOTTE

Me

Where are you?

Charlotte

Where’s my fun fact?

Me

Fun fact, I had meatballs for dinner

I exit the building with the flow of the crowd, making it out into the humid summer air. The sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a dim blue hue.

Charlotte

That’s not a fun fact, I was there when you made your plate

Groaning, I rack my brain, and the perfect idea pops in.

Me

Fun fact: when faced with the possibility of seeing my girlfriend’s ex, I will one hundred percent make him realize how hard he fumbled

Charlotte

Cute

A tap on my shoulder has me spinning around to see Charlotte’s teasing face.

“Your fun fact skills are lacking,” she tells me.

“You said it was cute,” I say, glancing behind her shoulder and spotting said ex. I reach up, slide a hand into her hair, and tug her toward me.

A giggle slips out of her. “What are you doing?”

“We have an audience,” I say, running my fingers through the dark strands. “Just showing him how hard he fumbled.”

“ Oookay ,” she says, eyes narrowed curiously.

“Fun fact.” My gaze roams her body. “You look hot as fuck tonight.”

Her eyebrows rise, cheeks reddening. “Well, that is definitely some shit a boyfriend would say.”

“It certainly is.” Because it’s the truth. “Do you need to get anything from your cabin before you come over?” I ask, my thumb selfishly grazing her jawline.

“Before I… what?” she says, eyes dazed.

“Before you come over?” I clarify, finger tracing the column of her neck.

“What am I coming over for again?” she asks, and I fight a smile, wondering if my proximity is distracting her.

“To talk .”

“Right,” she says with a nervous laugh. “About the…” She glances around and drops her voice to a whisper. “Rules.”

“Exactly,” I whisper back. “So, you need anything from your place?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” I say, throwing an arm around her shoulders and leading the way. “Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, I’m unlocking the door and gesturing Charlotte inside.

She strides around, taking in my space, and tilts her head at the full-sized bed.

“Do you have this whole place to yourself?” she asks, spinning to face me.

“I’m a coach. I don’t have to share like you mere mortals.”

She scrunches her nose at me. “I called you the god of football once .”

“No take backsies,” I tease, booping her on the nose.

She groans, kicking off her shoes and hopping up on the bed, making herself at home like she always does. “Damn, it’s soft too.” She throws herself back on the mattress. “Lucky bitch.”

I glance down at my attire, noting the grass stain on my shirt from the get up and go drill I showed the boys earlier in practice. There wasn’t time before dinner to clean up since I had an unexpected coaches meeting, and I definitely don’t want to get in my clean sheets in this condition.

“I’ve gotta take a quick shower,” I tell her, and she pops up, resting on her elbows.

“Right now?”

“Do you mind?” I ask, grabbing some clothes from my drawer. “I’ll only be a few.”

“I suppose I’ll manage,” she says, throwing herself back onto the bed, then rolling over and unlocking her phone. Her ass peeks out of her little shorts, and I hold in a groan.

“Great,” I mumble, heading to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes and an unavoidable stress relief session later, I’m pulling on fresh sweats and a Tampa Barracudas T-shirt. Feels weird having my new mascot on my chest instead of my usual CBU get-up, but since I’m a coach for all the teams, I’m trying not to show I play favorites. Because I definitely do.

I find Charlotte in the same position I left her, sprawled across the entire bed, her ass mercilessly torturing me.

“Scoot,” I say, shoving her leg. She slides over and props herself up against the pillows, and I do the same, turning to face her.

“Alright, boyfriend ,” Charlotte says, and I ignore the weird little swirly thing my stomach does. “What did you want to discuss?”

“First,” I say, searching my mind for clarity, “I want to make sure we’re on the same page with what you’re comfortable with.”

“What I’m comfortable with?” Her brows pull together. “What about you? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I narrow my eyes at her. Is she serious? “I really doubt that could happen.”

She shifts on the mattress. “Then what makes you think I would be uncomfortable?”

“Exhibit A,” I say pointedly. “When I threw my arm over your shoulder after practice today, you pulled away.”

“Because I was sweaty.”

“I know that.” I give her a reassuring smile. “But if I touch you and you jerk away, it looks suspicious.”

“I didn’t jerk away after dinner,” she says, pleased with herself.

“And you were such a good girl for that.”

She rolls her eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Whatever.”

“So like I said, I want to know what you’re comfortable with so you don’t recoil in front of other people.”

“Can you give examples?” she asks, toying with her necklace.

“Hand-holding?”

“I don’t know.” She taps a finger to her mouth. “Seems pretty risqué.”

“Wouldn’t want to cause a scandal,” I say, nudging her foot with mine, and she returns the gesture, our legs entangling. “But seriously, Charlotte. This is important. I want us to set boundaries we’re both comfortable with.”

“Fine.” She releases a breath, rubbing her toes against my calf, and I struggle to focus. “Hand-holding is allowed.”

Permission to hold her hand. Check.

“What about hugging or holding you against me?”

She pauses, nibbling on her lower lip. “Also fine.”

I grip her chin and pull her close, dragging my lips along her jaw, and my heart pounds. “Me kissing your forehead or cheek?”

She shivers and clears her throat. “Fine.” I angle her face until we’re nose to nose, then drag my thumb along her bottom lip. My eyes bounce between hers and her pretty mouth, which reminds me of my very strict set of rules.

One: don’t touch Charlotte.

Two: don’t think about Charlotte.

Three: don’t text Charlotte.

And four: definitely don’t, under any circumstance, kiss Charlotte.

One through three are blown to shit, but breaking four? I’ll never recover.

“Will you be kissing my lips?” she murmurs, and my lungs cease to function. My palm rests on her neck, her pulse pounding against it. The temperature in the room is hotter than Death Valley, and I lack the basic oxygen to formulate a reply. “Just whenever Jonathan is watching,” she clarifies. As if my hesitancy has anything to do with not actually wanting her lips on me. “But we definitely don’t have to. I was just ask?—”

“Yes.”

Fuck.