Page 109 of The Play Maker

Isabella turns to face me. “I’ve known Austin for a while,” she says, “and he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

I shift on the bed. I want to believe her, I really do. But there’s this knot in my stomach that won’t allow me to. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? I know what kind of girls he’s usually seen with.” I glance up, biting the inside of my cheek. “And I look nothing like them.”

Aurora shifts the clothes on my bed and faces me. “Okay, listen. I hate most girls. I hate how fake they are, and how boy obsessed they are, and how everything has to boil down to competition with other women. But I don’t hate you. I actually like you. Which means you’ve already won me over. And if you can win me, you can win him.”

My mouth twitches into a half smile. “That’s… sweet?”

“It’s practically a love confession coming from her,” Isabella tells me. “Trust me.”

“You’re welcome,” Aurora says with a smirk. “Okay. Enough feelings. Time to turn you into a smoke show.”

Aurora orders me to stand up, which I do—because she’s slightly terrifying—and they tug me to my vanity. Isabella pulls out some lip gloss, and Aurora is already plugging in my curling iron.

I feel something shift in my chest as the girls hover over me, helping me get ready for a date with Austin. Feeling like maybe for once in my life, I’m not just the background character in everyone else’s story.

I can be the main character in mine.

23

AUSTIN

I’ve played in packed arenas with a hundred people chanting my name and coaches breathing down my neck. I’ve been in fistfights mid-game and taken slapshots to the ribs. But none of that compares to the way my stomach’s twisting right now.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, and glance sideways at the girl sitting next to me. She’s not saying anything, just fiddling with the hem of her dress—this soft, flowy, blue thing that clings to the curve of her waist and shows off the swell of her chest like it’s specifically designed to fucking torture me. Her hands are on her lap, and I catch a peek of her thick thighs pressing into the seat, smooth and soft and driving me absolutely insane in the best way possible.

I can’t stop staring. Every time she glances at me, I feel it in my chest.

She looks like everything I’ve ever wanted but never knew how to ask for.

“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat because, fuck, it feels weird saying this to anyone but Cherry. “Confession.”

She glances at me, curious.

“This is my first date,” I admit.

Her eyes go wide. “You’ve never been on a date?”

I shake my head. “Never really wanted to. There’s never been a girl I was dying to see outside of my bedroom.”

She laughs. I swear I feel it crawl up my spine and settle into my chest. “So I’m your first?”

“No.” I catch her eyes and my lips twitch. “You’re my only.”

Maisie flushes, tucking hair behind her ear like she’s trying to disappear. The dash lights flicker on her cheekbones, and for a second I’m stuck just staring—not wanting to look away.

I flick on my blinker and turn in, tires crunching over gravel as I pull into the drive-in lot just off campus. A few cars are scattered across the rows, most with their windows down, some with people sitting on their roofs or stretched out in truck beds.

I kill my headlights and ease into a spot near the middle. String lights line the fences and snack stand, and there’s that familiar smell of popcorn and something fried drifting through the air.

I shift into park and lean back, drumming my fingers on the wheel. We’re probably a little too early. I’ve never been early a day in my life, but I don’t want her to miss the movie.

She looks over at me, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “We’re at a drive-in?”

I shoot her a smile before I hop out of the truck, jog around to her side, and open the door, holding out my hand. “C’mon.”

She blinks up at me. “You’re really committing to this, huh?”

A grin spreads across my face. “I’m a gentleman. Now, give me your hand.”