Page 41
I grab a pair of joggers from my suitcase and slide them on. Taking one of the room keys off the dresser, I toe on my slides by the door, and quietly leave the room, making my way toward the elevators.
The doors open with a quiet woosh , and I step inside, a tangle of nerves as I hit the button for the top floor. It doesn’t take long to reach her suite, and once I do, I pull out my phone and shoot her a text, letting her know that I’m here.
A minute later, I hear the click of the lock, and then she’s pulling the door open, standing before me like something out of my dreams. Her blonde hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders.
The matching sleep top and pants I’m almost certain are real silk cling to her curves like a second skin, the pale pink fabric catching the dim light of the hallway, casting her in ethereal shadows.
She looks soft, vulnerable in a way I haven’t seen in a long time but can remember like it was yesterday, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of her.
“Hey,” she whispers, and I realize I’ve been staring.
“Hey,” I manage to choke out, my voice rougher than I intended.
The sight of her like this—relaxed, unguarded, her makeup washed away to reveal the smattering of golden freckles across her nose—has short-circuited my brain.
The silk shifts as she breathes, revealing the perfect shape of her breasts, and I clench my fists at my sides to keep from reaching for her.
“You coming in?” Her smile is small, almost shy, and she’s clearly oblivious to her effect on me.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
When I step inside, she closes the door quietly behind me.
There’s the soft click of the latch, barely audible in the stillness of the suite.
The common area is dimly lit, the shapes of the couches and coffee table where we played cards throughout the week visible only by the light of the moon outside the massive windows.
I fix my eyes on Avery as she moves in front of me. Her fingers brush against mine, tentative at first, then more certain as she intertwines our hands. The simple touch brings my nerve endings to life and sends my heart racing.
She tugs gently, leading me away from the living room as she lifts a finger to her lips in the silence, signaling for me to be quiet.
We tiptoe past two closed doors, and I hold my breath, hyperaware of every creak in the floor beneath our feet and the frantic drumming of my pulse growing louder in my ears with every step I take.
The warmth of Avery’s hand sinks into my bones while her thumb absently strokes my skin in a way that makes it hard to focus on anything other than her as she pauses outside a door.
The smallest sliver of lamplight from within cascades onto the floor in front of us as she pushes inside.
Turning to me, she drops my hand before she makes her way to the bed and sits on the edge of it.
The pillow behind her shifts, and she grabs it, hugging it to her chest as she motions toward the small desk in the corner, as well as the empty space on the bed beside her.
“Take a seat. Wherever you’re comfortable. ”
I quickly scan my surroundings, but I have tunnel vision. All I can see is the massive king-sized bed where Avery sits. She’s like my biggest temptation come to life.
I push a hand into my hair, laughing a little at myself for being nervous and getting so worked up; it’s like I’ve never been alone with a girl before.
Suddenly, I think back to the conversation I had with the boys last week in the film room.
The one where I admitted I’ve never been with another girl—not since Avery, not ever—and I suddenly wonder if that was the wisest decision.
I have zero expectations for this evening.
When I texted her, all I wanted was to spend more time with her, albeit alone.
But when the time comes for us to take things a step further, to show each other how we feel, what if I’m so out of practice I’m a disappointment?
I remain frozen in place, my pulse racing. Every instinct wants me to cross the room and pull her close, but the rational part of my brain—the part that knows tomorrow’s game depends on my focus—keeps me rooted in place.
“I should sit at the desk,” I say.
It’s the smart choice, the safe choice.
Yet despite my words, my body betrays me by taking a step toward the bed.
Avery laughs, a soft rumble from her chest as she watches me sink down onto the mattress beside her, the pillow still clutched to her chest like a shield, her features soft and angelic in the lamplight.
I reach out, needing to touch her as my fingers brush a blonde curl from her face. “Sorry about texting you so late, but I couldn’t sleep without seeing you tonight.”
“I’m glad you did,” she says, her hazel eyes locked on mine.
We sit there like that for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes, with me wishing more than anything that I knew what she’s thinking. “Rock, Paper, Scissors for a question?” I ask, surprising myself.
Her eyes brighten, and I see she hasn’t forgotten this game we used to play, where the winner gets a question.
“Okay,” she says, her voice soft. “Ready?” She lifts her hand, and I nod.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” I throw rock at the same time she makes scissors with her fingers.
I grin triumphantly, and she groans. “Okay, what’s your question?”
I could ask anything. There are a million things I want to know.
Where does she see this going? She said she wants me back, but does she still love me like I love her?
Like nothing’s changed? Do her parents know about us?
What will she do when?and it’s inevitable that it will be a when?they push back?
But instead of these things, I find myself asking, “Are you seeing anyone else?”
She blinks as if taken aback, and for a minute, I feel guilty for asking the question. Still, I don’t want to make assumptions. She has no reason to be loyal to me. We’ve made no promises to each other, no commitments since she broke them years ago.
Her brow creases as she shakes her head. “Why would you even think that?”
I sigh, feeling like an asshole as I drag a hand over the back of my neck. “I don’t. I just . . .”
The muscle in my jaw works before I drop my hand and meet her gaze again.
“You don’t owe me anything. Just because you came to Houston to watch me play doesn’t mean things will change and I .
. .” I trail off, growling when the words won’t come.
“Look, I saw that text from Travis the other day outside Java, and I didn’t mean to snoop, but I’m not an idiot, and I’m not blind.
I know how amazing you are, how beautiful.
He and every other guy on campus would be a fool not to go after you, and I was just wondering if .
. . well, I thought maybe you might be into him. That maybe something’s there.”
Avery shoves the pillow in her arms aside, so there’s nothing in between us as she scootches closer to me on the bed, reaching for my hand.
“There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Travis. That whole date was just a ploy to get close to you, and, yeah, he texted me afterward, wanting to hang out, but I told him no. More than that, I told him I was into you, because I meant it when I said I came back for you Damon, and nothing and no one is going to change that.”
Not even your father?
I stare at her, wanting to believe her, until I realize I do.
The truth is in her eyes as much as it is in her actions.
Even if I don’t believe my dad has anything against Reginald Astor, she does.
Her father has convinced her that I’m a risk she can’t take, that by being with me, she’s putting her father and her family’s legacy in jeopardy, along with Katie’s future.
Yet she’s here, anyway.
She gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it with a playful scoff. “What an easy question. But it’s my turn. Ready to lose, QB?” she asks, raising her fist once more.
I snort, allowing myself to relax as she calls out, “Rock, papers, scissors, shoot!”
This time she wins with a paper to my rock. “What’s the real reason you couldn’t sleep tonight?” she asks, wasting no time getting to the point.
My gaze rakes over her face, focusing on her pouty lips. “You. I don’t think I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep since you’ve moved to AAU.”
She frowns, and the urge to wipe it away with a kiss overwhelms me.
“That sounds . . . not good,” she says.
“It’s torture,” I say with a smile, “but not for the reasons you think.”
“Then what are the reasons?”
“That’s another question.” I wink, and she groans, then holds out her fist.
After I call it, she wins once again with a triumphant whoop. “What are these reasons, QB?”
I inhale, wondering how much I should say, afraid I’ll scare her off.
But, I decide to tell her the truth. “Because all I can think about when I lie awake at night is you. How much I want you even though I shouldn’t.
How much I still fucking care after all this time.
How beautiful you are. How fucking perfect. ”
“I’m not perfect,” she whispers. “I think I’ve shown you that.”
I shake my head, a nearly perceptible motion. “Maybe.”
“But I do think we’re perfect when we’re together.”
I swallow, feeling the truth of her words sink inside me like an anchor, holding me steady. “We were, weren’t we?”
She nods, and I fill my lungs, her sugared-almond scent winding around me like a vine as I lift my fist, waiting for her to do the same. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”
I bring my fingers down over hers—my scissors cutting her paper. “Have you been with anyone since me?” I ask, and then I shake my head and close my eyes. “I mean, I’m sure you have. Two and a half years is a long time, but—”
“ No .” Her voice is firm, a salve to my open wounds as I glance up at her, sinking into the depths of her eyes.
“I’m not going to lie, the first year apart, I went on a couple dates, trying to convince myself I could move on.
That what I did was for the best. That I set you free, and that you were probably happy and had moved on, so I needed to do the same.
But every date was a disaster. All I did was compare each guy to you, and it became clear very quickly no one would ever measure up, so I just stopped. ”
She shrugs, like it’s nothing, when it means everything .
My heart pounds in my chest as I absorb her words like a sponge and I’m thirsty for more. She’s been waiting for me all this time, just as I’ve been waiting for her. The revelation makes me dizzy with possibility, with want.
“And you?” she asks, her voice a whisper in the dim room. “Have you been with anyone since me?”
How do I tell her that the thought of being with anyone else like that made me sick?
That any time I even came close to being with a girl, it was her touch I yearned for, her kiss I craved?
How do I tell her that two and a half years apart wasn’t enough to satiate this burning hunger inside?
That I belong to her and she belongs to me?
How do I tell her that no matter how hard I pushed myself on the football field, no matter how hard I tried to forget, she was always there, in the back of my mind?
Her laugh echoing in my head. Her eyes haunting my dreams. Her name sitting like a prayer on the tip of my tongue, unspoken but never forgotten. Always there.
How do I tell her that the only thing more terrifying than losing her once is daring to hope I might get her back? That this could work? That forever with her is still a possibility and not a fool’s dream?
She lowers her eyes, mistaking my silence for my answer. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you.”
I shake my head, not bothering with the formality of Rock, Paper, Scissors to answer her question. Because this is too fucking important for games.
“No,” I say, my voice firm in the quiet.
“What?” She blinks up at me, her gaze uncertain.
“The answer is no,” I repeat, watching the revelation sink in. “I haven’t been with anyone else, Avery.”
Her eyes widen as she sucks in a breath. “But . . . I broke your heart, and you’re . . . well, you . Damon Huhn. Star quarterback for Ann Arbor. Future NFL star, and arguably, the hottest guy on campus. You could have anyone.”
“Arguably,” I tease.
“I’m serious,” she says, shoving at my chest when I capture her hands.
Tugging her closer, I stare into her eyes, my expression serious as I say, “I didn’t want anyone. I wanted you. It’s always been you.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 41 (Reading here)
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