Page 30

emma

. . .

I stare at the purple jersey in Hawke’s hand, thinking he’s lost his damn mind. I can’t wear his jersey to the home game this weekend.

“Nah uh.” I shake my head and motion my hand over toward the outfit I already picked out.

Cute, ripped boyfriend jeans and a cut-off golden yellow t-shirt with the school mascot on it.

I also already grabbed my purple hoodie in case the weather takes a turn and the afternoon turns chilly. “I’m already dressed.”

“Sugar, I want to see you in my number.” He holds it out to me, his voice more commanding than suggesting.

My brow rises. He has to be out of his mind.

We’ve been together for such a short amount of time that I’m still getting used to it.

Hell, the whole campus is still getting used to it.

Not that Hawke cares. The man is over-the-top when it comes to his boyfriend skills.

Everyday I’m still greeted with my favorite breakfasts, meals when I’m on the run, and last night he sent me chocolates and flowers because I didn’t score as high as I wanted on the test I spent last night studying for.

It isn’t the end of the world; I still did fine.

It just wasn’t the grade I wanted and he reacted as if I failed the test and needed comfort.

Even when he can’t be around, he still makes sure I have everything I need.

Random delivery people find me on campus and I do my best to ignore the chatter around me about it and the jealous gazes.

It's not just about that stuff either. Hawke makes sure everyone knows who I am to him. Anytime we’re together, his arm is secured at my waist or my hand is in his.

I like the feeling of him so close to me, and despite what he thinks, I am getting more comfortable with his public displays of affection.

Hawke doesn’t give me the chance to second-guess it or overthink the consequences.

He simply doesn’t care who sees or is watching, and my heart gives a little more of itself to him for it.

And no matter how our evening practices go or if after practice things, like watching game tape or team activities come up, he is always waiting for me.

Hawke hasn’t slept without me since we became official and I’ll never admit it to him, at least not yet, but I love it.

I sleep better with him there, and I wake up happier.

Which is why it's so hard right now to turn him down. I’m not doing it because I’m ashamed to be with him, but I do worry about the attention it brings to his game. Hawke is pretty much a celebrity and everything he does is speculated about and how it might affect his game.

“Babe.” I grip his face between my hands.

“It's already gossip that we’re dating and how serious we are. If I show up wearing your jersey, people are going to automatically suggest your game is declining because you’re in a relationship.

Trust me, I’ve seen pros dating famous singers and people still blame his team losing on her. ”

Hawke laughs and slides the jersey over my head. “No one will say shit. I can back up any claim with my skills alone. Falcon is all over my social media. There is nothing to worry about.”

My mind reels while he tugs the jersey down and slips my arms through. “Hawke, we just started dating again. We can gradually ease ourselves into the spotlight. I will feel terrible if anything ruins your dreams just because you are dating me.”

Of course he scoffs like I’m being ridiculous and settles the jersey over my frame.

I catch a glimpse of myself wearing it in the mirror above my vanity.

It looks good, and the image makes my heart beat wildly.

If only I believed as strong as Hawke that it won't affect his image.

His eyes slide over my face and I see the way his smile drops, taking my heart with it.

“How about another bet, Emmarys.” His fingers grip my chin and raise my eyes to his.

My brow cocks up. “Another one?”

“Are you afraid you might lose again, sugar?” He baits me, knowing I’m still sore I lost our last bet.

Granted, in the long run, I actually benefited from losing, but the competitive part of me wants to play. “What's the bet, QB?”

He smirks before leaning in and placing a kiss against my lips. “Wear it and if anyone says anything negatively, I won’t ask again until I graduate.”

“And if no one says anything negative?”

“Every stitch of clothing you wear to a game will have my last name on it,” he replies, so easily it makes me wonder if he knew I would react this way when he handed me his jersey tonight.

“Bet taken, Sheppard.” I stick my hand out to shake his and he growls before grabbing my hand and hauling my body into his.

“See you at the game, Em.” He places a kiss on my forehead before walking out of my apartment.

I’m not sure how long I stand there looking at the closed door, my fingers pinching the material of the jersey, trying to psych myself up.

It feels like hours but might be just minutes for all I know.

With every passing second it feels like an invisible clock is ticking down and I start to second-guess myself and Hawke.

It kills me not to win a bet, but the more I think about it, the more I’m sure that I made a mistake.

I can’t wear it. I’m not ready for the backlash or word to spread to ESPN that their favorite quarterback not only up and moved colleges in his prime with Texas but that he went because of a woman.

I can just imagine my face splattered all over social media and tabloids with some ridiculous headline about Hawke’s statistics going down because his girlfriend makes him spend more time with her rather than practice.

Or his head is not in the game because of his relationship pressures.

I start to feel weak, the resolve I had been holding onto is withering, and the strong walls around my confidence are slowly starting to fissure.

The usual pep talk isn’t going to cut it.

The one person who could make this better for me is Hawke but there is no way I can get a hold of him now.

He’s probably getting warmed up and I will not ruin his concentration before a game by making him baby me.

My fingers shake and I lift the material, bringing it up and over my head.

My loose hair falls down my back in waves and I fix the shirt I had on earlier.

“I just won’t wear it,” I mutter to myself.

I hate how my voice shakes and the way I feel like I’m letting Hawke down.

There will be another time. He understands my need to go slow.

I jumped the gun tonight by taking the bet and not being true of where my feelings are.

Taking a deep breath, I grab a hanger from my closet and hang it up, not wanting the precious material to get creased, then close the door and finally leave my apartment.

My phone vibrates when I get to the stairs and I glance at it quickly.

SAM: Here! Hurry down.

ME: On my way:)

Sam is waiting in her car as I get closer and one look in her back seat tells me all I need to know.

“You didn’t bring my little bestie?” I accuse her, and she laughs, her blonde head tilting back.

“No, not today.” She shrugs and I let it go, knowing it will only upset her. With the return of he-must-not-be-named back in her life, she’s been bending over backwards to make everyone happy and thinking little of herself as usual.

“It’s okay.” I slide my arm around her and give her a squeeze before settling in and grabbing my seat belt. “It will be nice to have just us for the day too.”

I’m not even surprised that Riley couldn’t make it, probably off spending time with her boyfriend again.

Not that I blame her. If I think Hawke and I have difficult schedules, Reign and Riley rarely see each other during this time of the year.

Mostly because the men’s hockey team’s ice time sometimes counters ours.

We rarely have practice at the same time.

When I mentioned going to Hawke’s game, Sam jumped at the opportunity to support me and I’m grateful. I wasn’t even sure if she liked football to be honest.

“It sounds like Leif might be there as well,” Sam responds.

“Without Carter?” I mock with a fake surprised face and she laughs.

“I think the fact that I invited Isla was off-putting to him.” She rolls her eyes.

My stomach twists for our new friend. I can just picture the hurt in her blue eyes and I want to punch Carter in his man chest. “He’s ridiculous.”

Sam nods, biting her top lip before turning on the radio.

We jam out on the short drive over to the stadium.

It’s not until we’re pulling into the parking lot that my stomach starts to tighten and my chest clenches.

What if I made a mistake by not wearing the jersey?

I didn't even take it with me as a just in case. I hope Hawke won’t be upset.

My intention is not to hurt him; it’s to save him.

Protect his reputation. I know he says that his brother manages his social media and that he helps spin good stories for him, but what if I’m the outlier, the one thing they didn’t plan on ruining his future and golden boy image.

Half of Hawke’s appeal the last few years has been that he’s single and woman live to fantasize about trying to snag him.

My stomach lurches at the thought and I grimace.

“What's wrong with you?” Sam looks over at me, the worry in her eyes makes me feel even more guilty.

“Hawke asked me to wear his jersey and I left it at home. I told him I didn’t want to ruin his image and he said I wouldn't, so we made a bet to see what would happen if I did wear it,” I spill to her like word vomit.

Sam’s brow rises and she blinks, watching me carefully. “Okay. And by not wearing it at all, that's supposed to cancel out the bet?”

“Kinda.” I bob my head, my fingers clasping in my lap. “I think I messed up, Sammie.”