Page 17 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

Heartbeats and Rulebooks

Linnie woke up with her lips tingling. No, seriously—her lips tingled . She smiled into her pillow like some romcom heroine who ’ d just been kissed in the rain by the boy she didn ’ t know she was in love with. Except there ’ d been no rain. No overly dramatic soundtrack.

Just Blaine. And it had been perfect.

She practically danced through her morning routine. Even her messy bun came out looking Pinterest-chic on the first try—surely a sign from the universe that today was going to be amazing.

Outfit: cute but casual. Coffee: iced vanilla chai with an extra espresso shot. Playlist: full Taylor Swift and early 2010s throwbacks. Vibe: untouchable.

At the Plex, the energy was buzzing. Linnie met up with Jade and Karter for a morning run-through while the football players lifted on the far side of the gym.

As the Bombshells warmed up on the studio floor, she kept catching flickers of Blaine ’ s presence nearby.

It was like gravity—strong, steady, familiar.

Every time she glanced over, he wasn ’ t looking.

But she knew. He felt it too. Their eyes finally met during a water break, and for one second, the world tilted.

She smiled.

He smiled.

It lasted a heartbeat.

But it said more than all their texts from the night before. Then came the voice over the speaker:

“ Blaine Austin and Linnie Sanders to the coach ’ s office, please.”

Her heart skipped. Jade ’ s head whipped toward her.

“ What. Did. You. Do.” Linnie shrugged way too casually for the panic sparking in her chest. “ No idea.” But…

she had a very good idea. Blaine was already waiting in the hallway.

His curls were a little wild, and he ran a hand through them like he was trying to play it cool. He wasn ’ t succeeding.

“ You think they know?” he asked.

She gave him a sidelong look. “ Define know .”

They didn ’ t have to define anything.

Coach Summer and Coach Ben were already inside. That alone said everything. This wasn ’ t about scheduling. Or practice.

This was about them .

Blaine opened the door and they stepped in like it was a courtroom.

The office suddenly felt half its size. Coach Ben leaned forward.

“ Let ’ s make this simple. There ’ s a reason we have a no-relationship policy between players and team leadership.

It ’ s about focus. Fairness.” “ And optics,” Coach Summer added—no longer just a coach, but also Linnie ’ s mom.

Her arms were crossed, eyes laser-focused on her daughter.

Blaine tensed beside Linnie. They stood in silence. Waiting.

Coach Ben ’ s voice didn ’ t waver. “ What happens off the field affects the team. We can ’ t have rumors flying around.

So if something ’ s going on, we need transparency.

Now.” Blaine spoke first, steady. “ We ’ ve been respectful.

We haven ’ t broken any rules. But yeah…

we ’ ve gotten close.” He looked at Linnie. Really looked. She nodded.

Her mom let out a sigh—loud, torn, somewhere between coach and mother. “ You both know this is risky. If it becomes a distraction—” “ It won ’ t,” Linnie said firmly. “ We know what ’ s at stake.”

Coach Ben and Coach Summer exchanged a look. He leaned back. “ We ’ ll allow it—for now. But we expect maturity. Discretion. And zero impact on performance.”

“ In sync,” Blaine and Linnie said together: “ Understood.”

As they stepped into the hallway, Linnie realized she ’ d been holding her breath. Blaine ’ s hand brushed her elbow, a subtle anchor. They didn ’ t say much on the walk back to the gym. But their hands brushed again. And it was enough .

Back on the floor, the psychic vibes were palpable . Every football player within visual range turned— casually-not-casually —toward them.

Cue the murmurs. Cue the smirks. Cue Chase, with his trademark low whistle.

“ Dude, y ’ all get called to the principal ’ s office?” Logan asked, towel slung over one shoulder.

“ Gotta be more than matching Spotify Wrapped energy,” Chase added.

Linnie rolled her eyes but couldn ’ t hide her grin. “ Relax. Just policy stuff.”

“ We ’ re good. Promise,” she added, voice cool and confident.

She was smooth on the outside—but Blaine, watching her fingers nervously curl around her water bottle, knew better. Grace under pressure. God, he loved that.

“ Mmhmm,” Logan teased. “ So when ’ s the wedding?”

“ Funny,” Blaine muttered, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder.

The jokes kept coming, but the tension eased. One more round of drills. A few more laughs. And things started to feel normal again. Right near the end, Blaine caught sight of Linnie by the exit. She glanced over her shoulder—barely a look. But it hit him like lightning.

Text later?

No— date later .

That night, Blaine parked a block from the taco joint Linnie picked. String lights glowed across the patio like something straight out of a movie.

She was already there, swaying to the music, looking like a dream.

They split al pastor tacos, passed a bottle of Jarritos back and forth, and laughed like there wasn ’ t a rule in the world telling them they couldn ’ t be together.

Blaine didn ’ t want the night to end.

As they reached her car, he ran a hand through his hair. Nervous—which was rare.

“ Hey,” he said. “ I know we ’ re still figuring this out, but… would you want to stay over tonight?”

Linnie blinked. “ Like… stay stay?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “ Yeah. Not for anything physical. Just… I sleep better when you ’ re there.”

Her expression softened. “ Are you sure?”

“ I ’ ve never been more sure about anything.”

His room was cleaner than she expected. Cozy, slightly chaotic, with football gear in one corner, a Celtics jersey on the wall, and a well-worn Champ Bailey poster that had clearly seen more than a decade of devotion.

Snickers, his floppy-eared dog, curled up at the foot of the bed like she ’ d always belonged there.

Linnie changed into one of Blaine ’ s oversized t-shirts—one that somehow smelled like cedarwood and summer rain.

They brushed their teeth together, bumping elbows and laughing like kids.

No rush. No pressure. Just them .

They curled into each other under the covers, Linnie resting her head right over Blaine ’ s heartbeat.

“ You good?” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her forehead.

“ Better than good.”

He kissed her again. “ You ’ re not gonna get sick of me, right?”

She tilted her face up and kissed him. “ Impossible.”

Snickers groaned like she already knew they were going to be so annoying . The morning light cut through the curtains like it had no mercy. Snickers yawned on the floor. Linnie stirred beside Blaine—peaceful, soft, completely unaware of what was coming.

Then:

“ Blaine. ”

He sat up instantly.

His mom stood in the doorway. Arms crossed. Gaze locked—not on him, but on Linnie. Who was now very much awake and blinking like she wasn ’ t sure if this was a dream or a disaster.

“ Mom—what are you doing?”

She didn ’ t answer. Just raised one eyebrow and said, flat and sharp as steel: “ You need to get to work, Blaine. Before you screw that up too.” Then she turned and walked away, heels clacking down the hallway like a mic drop.

Blaine dragged a hand over his face, mortified. “ I ’ m sorry. She ’ s not exactly… a morning person.” Linnie gave a small, brave smile. “ It ’ s fine. I should probably head home anyway.”

He didn ’ t want her to go. But he knew the line they were walking.

He walked her to the car, kissed her cheek, and stood there as she drove away—heart tight, the weight of what they were up against suddenly all too real.