Page 124 of The Play Maker

The one girl I let past the walls.

The only one I want.

“Stay over tonight,” I murmur, my thumb tracing slow circles along her cheekbone.

Her breath hitches. “What?”

“Come back with me. Stay over. My place.”

She doesn’t answer right away, just lifts her hand and curls her fingers around the back of my neck—light, like she’s still not sure she’s allowed to touch me like this. Like she doesn’t realize I’d let her touch me however she wants.

“Why?” she whispers.

“Because I want you there.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and I can see her mind racing—doubt flashing behind her eyes, all those quiet fears creeping in again.

I slide my hand down, catching hers, fingers warm and steady as I thread them through mine.

“You don’t have to,” I say. “I just thought we could stay up and watch a movie, maybe. I even bought some Oreos for you and then you could stay over and—” I blow out a breath. “You don’t owe me anything. I just?—”

“Okay,” she cuts me off.

I blink. “Yeah?”

She nods again, her fingers brushing the back of my neck as we dance to the slow song in the packed bar.

I let out a shaky breath, and the smile that spreads across my face feels like the first deep breath I’ve taken in days. Maybe longer. I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her waist, her cheek brushing my chest.

She fits there. Like she’s meant to be right next to me.

And with her in my arms, her breath soft against my shirt, that song still playing in the background like it’s narrating my whole goddamn life, I realize something I probably should’ve known a long time ago.

I’m not chasing something anymore.

I already found it.

26

MAISIE

This is definitely not my dorm bed.

For starters, it’s bigger and softer than mine. And then there’s the fact that someone’s arm is wrapped around my waist, and Austin’s bare chest presses against my back, the warmth of him seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt.

And then it hits me all at once.

Austin. Last night. The game. The bar. The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the room when he asked me to stay over. The way he smiled when I said yes, like he’d been waiting for it.

Now I’m here. In his bed. Under his covers. Tucked against him like I belong here.

His arm is still wrapped around my waist, like he fell asleep holding me close and never let go, one of my legs is tangled between his, and his breath hits my neck softly, making me break out into a shiver.

I stay perfectly still. Not because I’m scared of waking him—though I am—but because I don’t want to break this feeling.

My heart’s pounding against my chest, loud enough I’m sure he can feel it.

Is he awake?