Page 18 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

So Apparently We’re Cute Now?

Heading Home

The second I pulled into my driveway and checked my phone, I

knew the secret wasn ’ t a secret anymore.

Instagram:

?? @billingsbackfield: “ Was that THE Blaine Austin spotted

kissing THE Linnie Sanders after she leaves his house?? ?? ??

?? ”

Snapchat: Streaks full of zoomed-in screenshots of our photo at the league dinner.

Comments like: “ They ’ re cute tho.” And also: “ Guess being Coach Summer’s daughter comes with perks…

.” I froze. My stomach twisted. I wasn ’ t even mad they knew.

I just didn ’ t want it to get messy. We ’ d been so careful, but apparently not careful enough.

I dropped my keys, pulled out my phone, and typed out a message

to Blaine:

Linnie: "It ’ s out. People know. Just… thought you should be prepared." I stared at the screen for a minute, wondering what this would mean for the team. For us.

For me.

JJ ’ s name popped up in my blocked list. I didn ’ t even want to look, but a chill crawled up my spine like he was waiting for the moment to swoop in again. But not this time. I slid my phone into my pocket, grabbed a protein shake from the fridge, and took a deep breath .

Let them talk.

We were something.

And honestly?

It felt good to finally stop pretending we weren ’ t.

Blaine – Saturday, 2:14 PM

I read Linnie ’ s text twice.

"It ’ s out. People know. Just… thought you should be prepared."

I dropped my phone onto the couch and leaned back, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers.

Snickers groaned from the floor, pawing at my hoodie like, dude, relax.

I wasn ’ t surprised. Not really. Between the pool game pic, the league dinner, and the last game where I caught her cheering like the world was ending, it was bound to happen.

Still, the whole “ Coach ’ s daughter” label made everything ten times more complicated.

I was already under the microscope because of my last-minute team tryout.

Add dating the team captain of the dance squad—and the coach ’ s daughter—to that mix?

Yeah. I'm basically living on a tightrope. I needed to reset. Fast.

3:00 PM – Boys Day at Chase’s

“ Bro, what ’ s with the face?” Chase asked, flopping down beside me on the couch.

He handed me a controller and unpaused Madden 25.

“ Coach give you crap again about that one-handed grab?” “ No,” I muttered.

“ Linnie.” They all turned. “ The girl?” Logan smirked.

“ The girl that ’ s definitely not your girl?

” “ She ’ s not—okay, maybe she is,” I groaned, sinking into the couch.

“ It ’ s out. Like, everyone knows.” "That didn't take long," Chase laughed. “ It ’ s cool though. You guys are... kinda disgustingly cute, if I ’ m being honest.” Logan handed me a Mountain Dew and started another match. “ Forget the noise, man. If it ’ s real, it ’ s worth the crap.

” “ Coach might not think so,” I muttered.

"Coach doesn ’ t need to know everything,” Chase said with a shrug.

“ You ’ re playing clean. You ’ re not messing around. Let the man focus on football.”

I wanted to believe that. I really did. But the line between personal and professional felt paper-thin right now. “ Nacho! No, get off the console—brO!” I yelled as Chase ’ s dog

stepped on the power button with perfect timing, shutting down the whole game just as I was about to score.

The room erupted into groans and laughter.

“ Your dog just rage quit for you,” Logan cackled.

Nacho barked like he knew exactly what he ’ d done.

And for the first time all day, I laughed. Hard. I grabbed my phone.

Karter (group chat) :

"Y ’ all see Linnie ’ s name trending on Insta? ?? Someone posted a

Plex vid of her cheering for Blaine ?? "

Me:

"Of course they did."

Karter:

"It ’ s cute. People love it. Don ’ t sweat it, man."

I stared at that message .

People love it.

That wasn ’ t what I expected to hear—but it made me feel like maybe, just maybe, we weren ’ t crashing into disaster. Maybe we were just... happening.

That evening Linnie’s car slowly pulling Into the Plex into the back lot, the buzz of the group chat still echoing in my head.

She looked over at me, thumb tapping on the wheel.

“ You sure about this?” I smirked, nodding toward the tinted windows.

“ Pretty sure they already know, Linnie. I think we ’ re past the ‘ maybe they didn ’ t see it ’ phase.

” She exhaled, her shoulders rising then sinking again like she was trying to breathe through it.

“ This feels... like a lot.” “ It is,” I admitted, “ but so is not being able to talk to you at practice, or having to pretend I don ’ t want to drive you home every day.

” She turned, finally meeting my eyes. “ So... we ’ re doing this?

” I reached over, hand brushing hers as I nodded once.

“ We ’ re doing this.” As soon as we stepped out of her car, a few heads turned in the parking lot.

I felt it—eyes on us, whispers just low enough not to make out.

Linnie walked a little ahead of me, and I let her.

I could tell she was trying to decide if she should slip into dance captain mode or stay in "normal girl with the guy she likes" mode. I liked both versions of her. Karter caught us in the lobby with a crooked grin and a raised eyebrow. “ So we ’ re not hiding this anymore, huh?” “ Nope,” Linnie said quickly before I could even open my mouth.

He looked between us, clearly trying to hold in a smug smile.

“ You two are gonna break the internet.”Jade popped up from behind the merch table. “ Too late.”

We were both quiet as we got back into her car, sweaty and winded from practice but weirdly lighter too.

“ Did it feel weird?” she asked after a beat.

“ Like, being out there... and not hiding it?” I shook my head.

“ It felt like I was finally allowed to just look at you.” She smiled softly, eyes still on the road.

“ Everyone kept side- eyeing me during warmups.” “ Yeah, but did you see the squad? They were literally swooning.” “ Oh my God,” she laughed, tipping her head back. “ Don ’ t even start.”

We pulled up to my place and I hesitated with my hand on the door handle. “ You wanna come in?” I asked. “ Not like... stay over again unless you want to. But just... hang for a bit?” She looked at me like I was both crazy and exactly what she needed. “ I ’ d like that,” she said quietly.

The door creaked open as Blaine stepped in first, holding it for me.

His place smelled like clean laundry, cedarwood, and something faintly sweet—probably from the candle flickering near the kitchen.

“ I ’ ll grab you a hoodie,” he said, already disappearing down the hallway.

I smiled to myself, glancing around the space—family photos, sports memorabilia, a pair of cleats kicked under the edge of the couch.

Then came the voice. “ You finally brought her home?” I turned to see a girl leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, eyebrow arched.

Bria . She was taller than I expected, in leggings and an oversized hoodie, her brown hair in a messy bun.

Same eyes as Blaine, same stubborn set to her jaw—but her expression was pure mischief.

“ Bria,” Blaine said as he came back with the hoodie, shooting her a warning look.

“ Be nice.” “ I ’ m being welcoming,” she said, ignoring him and walking right up to me.

“ Hi. I ’ m Bria. His sister. Fifteen. I know everything.

So... are you, like, official or just giving him false hope?

” I let out a surprised laugh, immediately liking her bold energy.

“ Hi Bria. I ’ m Linnie. And I ’ m pretty sure your brother ’ s got plenty of hope all on his own.

” “ Ohhh, I like you,” she said with a smirk.

“ She ’ s good, Blaine. Don ’ t mess it up.

” “ Working on it,” he muttered, handing me the hoodie .

Bria started walking backward down the hall. “ If you guys make out, keep it PG. These walls are thin. Also, he totally stress-eats Oreos when he ’ s nervous.” “ Thanks, Bria,” Blaine called after her. She shot him finger guns. “ Anytime, big bro.”

His room was dim, soft string lights around the edge of the ceiling casting a golden glow.

A Celtics poster hung crooked above his bed, and Snickers, his min pin, was already snoring in a corner.

I curled up in his hoodie while he handed me a soda and the remote.

“ Wanna watch something chill?” “ You read my mind.” We settled on playing COD, because nothing beat chaotic energy and romantic tension when you were trying to pretend you weren ’ t completely falling for someone.

I leaned into him slowly, and his arm found its way around my shoulders like it belonged there.

“ You feel real,” he whispered. I turned slightly to look at him.

“ That ’ s because I am.” He kissed me then.

Soft and curious. Not rushed, but definitely meaningful.

Then came another kiss. And another. By the time we pulled back, foreheads resting together, we were both smiling like idiots.

“ I ’ ve never done this,” he said, almost shy.

“ I mean... not like this.” “ You ’ re doing great,” I whispered, heart thudding.

We stayed curled up under the blankets, warmth and quiet filling space between us.

Snickers hopped up at the foot of the bed with a grunt, as if to claim his spot too.

“ Night, Blaine,” I said softly. His fingers found mine under the covers.

“ Night, Linnie. For real, this time.” And that was how we fell asleep—wrapped in a new kind of comfort, one we didn ’ t have to hide anymore.