“Junior year? As in, like, sixteen, seventeen years old?”
He nods. “Yeah, freaked me out so badly I went to homeschooling so I could, again, focus on my game.” He adds with a strained laugh. It makes me sad to think he chose to focus so hard on his sports, only to now not know what he wants.
“That’s insane,” I say, shaking my head. “My junior year, I was learning to clean houses and going to hockey games.”
“All while I was dealing with girls trying to trap me.”
“Disgusting.”
He grunts in agreement.
“Maybe that’s why you’re holding on to football so tightly, though.”
He looks up, pulling his brows in. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “Just a thought, but you’ve worked so hard for both sports, so who says you can’t do both?”
“Everyone,” he says with a chuckle, and I smile.
“But again, it’s your choice.”
His eyes cut to mine from his pumpkin. “If I were smart, I’d train for hockey.”
“But would you be happy?” He presses his lips together, his eyes holding mine. “Could you walk away without regrets?”
He visibly swallows. “I had a thought of walking away from both and starting my career.”
Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that. “Is that an option for you?”
He shrugs, looking fully unsure of himself, something I know he doesn’t do often. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“Then you have your answer.”
While we have music playing, all I hear is my heart in my ears as he holds my gaze. It’s beautiful to watch as his confidence snaps back into place, and a smile moves over his sweet lips. “Thank you.”
“Just saying, I think you should do what you want.”
He bites his lip, the motion so sexy, it makes me hot all over. I want to throw my pumpkin to the side and tackle him, but I stay where I am. “I am doing what I want.”
I match his grin. “For real, though, you never wanted this with anyone?”
He shakes his head once more, his eyes on his pumpkin. “I’m not kidding when I say I was only focused on hockey and football. Then I got a bit too wild my freshman year, and I hadto buckle down to be able to move forward. So I refocused, but there were injuries, and then?—”
“I’m sorry,” I say, cutting him off, and his eyes meet mine. “I know how hard you’ve fought, Dawson. I’ve kept up with your career.”
He isn’t surprised by my admission, but he is pleased by it. “But you claimed not to know me.”
I wave him off. “I knewofyou.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he teases, looking back to his pumpkin, bringing his lip between his teeth.
“But I meant,” I start, feeling silly, but I need to know, “you never wanted…” I pause, and he looks up. There are pumpkin guts hanging from his chin, and I smile before rising to my knees. He watches when I lean forward to wipe it off, as I ask, “Why me? Why did you decide to direct your attention and focus on me?”
He grabs my wrists before I can sit back down, his eyes capturing mine in a heated heist. “It’s funny you think it was a decision I could make, when really, it was a physical need.”
My mouth parts a bit. “Dawson,” I say softly, my eyes searching his. “Why me?”
“Why not you?” His eyes search mine right back before dropping to my mouth and then locking with mine again. “I wanted you.” He says it like he is explaining the color of the sky. “I don’t need a reason. But I guess, if I do, it’s you. I want to be yours and have you be mine.”
