He sits up, reaches out, and grabs my free hand, lacing our fingers together. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m good. Just want to clean this up before Penelope gets back.”
I move to pull away, but he won’t let me go, standing and tugging me to him. His eyes are worried as he gives me a kiss, soft and slow. “Hey, I know we aren’t just about me and my stuff.” He pushes hair out of my face. “I’m happy about Nashville, happy for you.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you excited about it?”
I nod. “Of course. It’s a cool town.”
I haven’t wanted to bring it up much. When I told him last week, he listened intently, his face unreadable. We even celebrated by going to Cadillac’s with Ryker, Penelope, Dillon, Margo, and Connor. It was a fun, laidback night, but I caught him staring at me when I was talking to the girls about driving up in a few weeks to find an apartment. His eyes were filled with disquiet, his expression drawn.
Is he worried about a long-distance relationship? Maybe. I am.
I keep picturing him in another town…away from me…with “fans”.
He watches me now, his eyes bright. His chest rises. “Charm?”
“Yeah.” My hand holding the paper plates shakes a little. The air feels charged, as if he…
He sticks his hand in his pocket, and I wonder if he’s touching that note. “I know things are up in the air, but we’ll make a plan after I’m drafted. I don’t know where I’ll be, or if I’ll even get selected.”
“You will.”
He looks at the floor then back at me. “I’ve never had someone like you.” His throat bobs and his eyes search mine. “You know…you know how I feel about you, right? You’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep, the first thing I want when I wake up.”
I set down the plates, slide into his embrace, and put my arms around his neck. “It’s going to work out, all of it.”
He kisses me, and it’s hard and sweeping, part need and part frustration, both of us anxious, wondering what the coming weeks will hold. I get lost there, in his mouth, like I always do. I don’t know how I ever waited so long to have this intimacy with him, to share it with the man I love. His tongue sucks on mine, making me moan, and he gives me more, his hands already in my hair and pulling out my ponytail and palming my scalp, getting me as close to him as he can.
“Charm, baby…” he says, staring down at me, those blue eyes dark with heat. “I brought rope. You got any high-heeled boots?”
I grin. “Already picked out and ready.”
He laughs and leads me to my bedroom.
28
“We both know who’s gonna look good today for that scout,” Archer says, squaring his shoulders, nose to nose with me. “Me.”
We’re standing in the middle of the field while Cedrick Clemmons, the New York Giants scout, watches from the sidelines. I feel the weight of his scrutiny, his assessing gaze on us. Gone is the affable fellow I met in the gym a few weeks ago, and in his place is a hard-nosed businessman looking for talent.
It’s a fucking gift.
An NFL scout has asked to see you and Archer run drills before the Combine.
That’s what Coach Sanders told us yesterday—and here he is today, watching.
Ryker gives me a thumbs-up from the sideline as he talks with the coaches and a few other players who are hoping they get the chance to hop in. He’s not going to throw to us—doesn’t want to risk an injury—so Coach Sanders is standing in.
I reach out my hand to give Archer a quick fist bump before we start.
He pounds down on my outstretched hand like a boxer before a fight.
“Going to destroy you,” he says under his breath.
I grin, but it’s tight, controlled. “Try. I’m faster.”
“Hike!” yells Coach.
I fire off the line, getting my arms under Archer’s ribs right away, and he stumbles back, giving me a crucial second to twist away and run. He recovers and sprints after me, but I stop on a dime and spin around right as Coach throws the ball. Archer flies past me, and I catch the pass twelve yards downfield.
Blaze one, Archer zero.
I flip the ball back to our coach as we both walk back to the line and set up for the next drill. As I pass Archer, I bump him with my