She hummed, a teasing little sound that ran straight down to my dick. “I could be down for that.”
Fuck. She was just sitting there, wearing my name on her back and smiling as if she was unaware of the storm she’d caused in my heart.
“At least you don’t have to go out there and fake being my girlfriend now,” I said, my voice low and rough.
Her grin grew wider. “Oh yeah?”
My fingers curled around the wheel, holding steady because every other part of me wasn’t. “Mhm.”
She bit her lip, barely holding back a laugh. She kept her eyes on me, chin tilted just enough to make it impossible to look away.
I swallowed hard, eyes dragging over her that smug look she got when she knew she’d won.
She did. She already fucking did.
FORTY-TWO
Ellie
Sawyer’sentire family had packed into the front-row sideline section all decked out in Rebels gear.
Dotty claimed the seat beside mine and immediately started trash-talking the other team like it was her full-time job. Gracie proudly held up a homemade sign that read:#71 is My Uncle and He’s Better Than Yours,made with glitter glue that had already attached itself to my jacket. Trent bounced between seats, yelling at players who definitely couldn’t hear him. Dorian and Noah were curled up together two seats down, laughing at something on her phone. Colt and David were next to them, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the field.
It was loud and slightly freezing, but it was perfect. I wasn’t entirely sure if I could full-send a relationship with Sawyer, but I was warming up to the idea of trying.
The game started off with the opposing team scoring first. The Rebels tied it up on a clean throw from West on the next turnover. The score went back and forth from there. In the second quarter, they pulled ahead by three points with a field goal. The others were glued to the scoreboard, but…
I was too focused on Sawyer.
The way he moved on the field, head down, laser-focused, in constant communication with his teammates. It was clear why he was here—why he was a starter. He didn’t just know the game. He was part of it.
Even with all the noise and bodies packed around me, he was the only thing I saw. The air had turned colder after halftime. January in San Francisco wasn’t snow-level cold, but it was enough to make me tuck my hands beneath my thighs to keep them warm. I watched him jog out with his helmet tucked under one arm. He looked up once and smiled at me, and I gave him a little wink before he ran back out for the next play.
Dotty leaned in, bumping my shoulder with hers. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” I gave her a quick smile, but my eyes never left the field.
“You sure?” She gave me a once-over. “You’ve barely said a word.”
“I’m just taking it all in.”
“You mean you’re swooning all over him.”
I bit back a smile. “I am not.”
“You are,” Gracie chirped. “You got all wobbly when Uncle Sawyer looked over here!”
“He plays better when you’re in the crowd, you know,” Dotty said.
I scoffed. “You’re just saying that.”
She squinted, like she was trying to decide if I was clinically insane. “Last time you were at a game, he got a touchdown.”
“And the time before that, he got a concussion.”
She shrugged. “Eh, doesn’t count.”
A whistle blew, and her head snapped back to the field.
