Page 19 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

I woke up to the sound of soft breathing and sunlight pouring through the blinds. Snickers was sprawled out at the foot of the bed, her snores now gentle and rhythmic. But what really made me smile was the weight of Linnie ’ s head on my shoulder, her hair spread across the pillow like a halo.

Golden retriever mode is what they call it fully activated.

I didn ’ t want to move. I didn ’ t need to move. I could stay right here all day if it meant waking up with her like this. I pressed a

light kiss to her forehead and grinned when she sleepily mumbled something that sounded like “ coffee first.” “ Already on it,” I whispered, gently slipping out of bed.

Snickers gave a half-hearted grunt as I tossed on sweats and padded into the kitchen.

The smell of eggs and toast soon filled the house—and that ’ s when Bria showed up.

She strolled in, still in pajama pants, sipping iced coffee like it was lifeblood.

“ So, did you guys sleep well?” she asked way too innocently, eyebrow raised.

“ Morning to you too, Queen of Sass,” I muttered.

Bria glanced toward the hallway. “ She still asleep?” As if on cue, Linnie appeared in the doorway wearing my hoodie and rubbing her eyes.

“ Ohhh my god,” Bria said dramatically, “ you even look like a couple. Gross. Cute, but gross.” Linnie just laughed.

“ Good morning, Bria.” “ You better lock this one down,” Bria warned me, pointing her spoon at Linnie .

“ She ’ s way too pretty for you.” “ I know,” I said, wrapping an arm around Linnie’s waist as I handed her a mug of coffee. “ That ’ s why I ’ m feeding her.”

Packing for Missoula the house buzzed with motion as I tossed cleats, gear, and team- issued sweats into my duffel.

I kept checking my phone for Linnie ’ s texts—even though I knew she was right down the street finishing her own packing.

Something about knowing she was coming this time made the trip feel completely different.

A three-day weekend. Playing in Missoula, under those college lights. I was pumped. But more than that, I was just... content. Like things were finally clicking into place.

Coach had us paired up in rooms of four, per usual. I ’ d assumed I ’ d be crashing with Chase, Logan, and Ty again—until Karter gave me a look in the locker room.

“ You ’ re with Linnie,” he said, like it was no big deal.

“ What?”

“ Yeah,” he smirked. “ It was a last-minute switch. I figured you

guys could use a door that closes.”

I was pretty sure I ’ d blacked out for a second. “ Isn ’ t that... like...

not allowed?”

“ Don ’ t do anything stupid,” Karter shrugged. “ But I trust you.”

I blinked at him, then checked my phone again.

Back at Jade ’ s house, we were doing our last-minute Target run— nails freshly painted, lashes fluttering, bags piled in the trunk of her Highlander.

Sadie was already snacking, Cleo had packed enough makeup for a month, and Jade was trying to convince us we didn ’ t technically need four outfit changes for a three-day trip.

I laughed from the front seat. “ You know we ’ re going to end up needing them.”

“ Exactly,” Cleo agreed. “ Plus, I ’ m not just there for football—I ’ m there for the Blaine & Linnie slow burn era.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn ’ t stop smiling.

By the time we pulled onto the freeway, windows down and music blasting, I was buzzing with nerves and excitement.

This wasn ’ t like our usual games. We were making memories now.

And Jade , bless her scheming heart, glanced at me from the driver ’ s seat.

“ Karter and I made a last-minute switch,” she said casually.

“ You and Blaine are in your own room.” My jaw dropped.

“ Wait. Seriously?” “ Mmhmm YOU CANNOT TELL MOM ,” she hummed. “ But you ’ re welcome.”

The car erupted in cheers and dramatic gasps. I just buried my face in my hands, already imagining how nervous Blaine was probably going to be.

The football team bus pulled into the hotel parking lot just after 6:30 PM. We were staying right next to the U of M campus, close enough to feel the game-day energy pulsing through the air. Everything felt a little more intense—like we ’ d stepped into a bigger stage, a bigger spotlight.

I stepped off the bus, duffel slung over my shoulder, scanning the parking lot until I saw the Highlander roll in, music thumping low, windows cracked. Cleo was in the passenger seat holding iced coffee, and Linnie had her hair up in a messy bun, laughing at something Jade said.

My heart did this weird skip-step-flip thing.

She caught my eye and grinned. That was it.

I was done for. Rooms were handed out, keys shuffled around.

Coaches barked about curfews and hydration and the usual “ remember who you represent” speech.

Everyone was hyped—throwing gear into elevators, already talking trash about who would win in Mario Kart tonight.

And then... I got my key.

Just one.

Room 417. Shared with Linnie.

She was already there when I walked in—setting her stuff down, glancing out the window at the view of the lit-up stadium. Her hair was curled, soft waves falling down her back, and she wore a Bullets hoodie that might ’ ve actually been mine.

“ Hey,” she said softly.

“ Hey.” I stepped inside, kicking my shoes off. “ So... this is happening.”

“ Yep,” she smiled. “ Unless you wanna trade and bunk with Cleo. ”

I laughed. “ I think I ’ ll survive.”

We both moved around the room awkwardly for a second— unpacking toothbrushes, tossing phone chargers onto the nightstand, trying not to seem too excited about sharing a room.

Until she turned to me and said, “ Do you wanna go for a walk? Maybe get snacks?” “ Only if we can get gummy bears and Gatorade.” “ You ’ re such a child,” she teased, grabbing her hoodie.

The night air was crisp, just cool enough to nudge closer together.

We wandered through the empty sidewalks near the stadium, the glow of the college field lights making the world feel quieter somehow.

We talked about everything—about football, about the way her curls never cooperate after a rainstorm, about Snickers stealing my socks, about JJ still sending her random texts (she told me she blocked him again, but I could see it still bothered her).

She bumped her shoulder into mine as we walked.

“ You nervous for tomorrow?” “ A little,” I admitted.

“ But mostly... I ’ m just glad you ’ re here.

” She stopped walking. And then she reached for my hand.

It was small, warm, and I swear it grounded me in a way nothing else ever had.

I squeezed it gently, and we stood there under a streetlamp, like we were in our own quiet corner of the world.

We were curled up on one of the full beds, the other still untouched.

Gummy bears half-eaten, a Pixar movie playing low on the hotel TV.

I had one arm draped around her shoulders, and her head rested perfectly against my chest. It wasn ’ t even about kissing tonight.

It was about being close. Safe. Calm before the storm.

"I like this,” she whispered. “ Me too,” I said back.

Then, almost out of nowhere, she kissed my cheek and pulled the covers over both of us.

Her fingers found mine beneath the blanket.

We drifted off like that—soft and slow—wrapped in warmth, heartbeats steady, and my mind completely, fully at peace.