"Tell him you love him while you're at it!" Peyton says through laughter before I hang up on her.
When I get to the stadium, security just waves me through like usual, only he does it with a grin this time instead of his usual practiced disinterest.
"Where are they?" I ask.
"Weight-room, Miss Abrams," he says. "Congratulations."
I march straight to the weight room, barging inside like I own the place. It still smells like sweat and looks like Hot Guy Mecca. But there's only one hot guy I'm interested in…their completely unhinged former Golden Boy.
"Yo, Hawkes! Your girl is here again!" Dace says, smirking at me as he uses some machine that looks like it belongs in a medieval dungeon. Or maybe a sex dungeon. Either way, I will not be using it at any point in this lifetime.
Austin is on the treadmill again, running like he's trying to outpace his own mind. The way sweat slides down his back is so fucking sexy to me. Clearly, there are too many pheromones in this gym because sweat should not be sexy. And yet, here I stand, wondering if it's bad form to hit the fire alarm at a football stadium so I can see just how fast he can run while fucking me.
This time, he slams the machine to a stop before whirling to face me. His eyes lock with mine, and I'm pretty sure my heart stops beating. It's lodged in my throat, choking me.
I don't take a single breath as he saunters toward me like he isn't sure if he wants to eat me or spank me. He's still pissed. Not that I blame him or anything. He laid his heart on the line last night, and I fumbled it. Fourth quarter, seconds left on the clock, and I choked.
Yeah, he's pissed.
"Can…can we talk?" I ask, nervous is a way I've never been.
He jerks his chin in a nod, motioning toward the door. Neither of us says anything as we step out, and it's so goddamn familiar, it's spooky. We've been here before. We've done this before. And just like then, we were here doing this because I couldn't walk away from him. Even back then, I didn't want to walk away.
"I love you," I blurt as soon as the door shuts behind us. "I realized I loved you weeks ago, but I was so fucking scared that if I admitted it or let myself believe this could be real, that I'd mess it all up." Tears well in my eyes. "And then I messed it up anyway."
He doesn't say anything. He just watches me with those impossibly green eyes, his expression unreadable.
"I thought I'd be fine with never falling in love or getting married," I rasp. "I thought that's what I had to accept tokeep from ruining someone's life the way my parents ruined each other's over and over. But it's not what I want."
"What do you want, Serena?"
"I want…" I pause, trying to put it into words. "I want all of it. I want my ass on the internet because I spilled wine on you. I want to be blackmailed into dates with you, and I want reporters to catch us making out like horny teenagers. I want you to kiss me in front of everyone who hates me, and then I want you to fuck me until I can't remember why I ever thought they mattered in the first place." My voice cracks, but I keep going, barreling through the fear because if I stop now, I might never start again. "I want you to pick fights with me over stupid shit, like who gets the remote, just so you have an excuse to kiss me. I want you to lose your mind if I almost get fired, and then offer me a job with a ridiculous salary because you're a maniac and you can't stand the thought of not seeing me every day. I want you to be so crazy about me that you go on national television and tell the whole world that I'm your future wife instead of asking me to marry you like a normal person."
"Jesus," he rumbles, swallowing hard.
"You, Austin," I whisper. "I just want you. I want us."
He stands there, just breathing, like he's letting every single word settle deep in his bones. For a second, it feels like the whole world is holding its breath with him.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I should have said it last night. I should have said it days ago, weeks ago." I swallow, my hands shaking. "I don't ever want to stop saying it. I love you. I love you so damn much I can't breathe without you."
He's on me before I can process what's happening. The next thing I know, I'm off my feet, his arms locked around me as if he's remembering all the times he let me pretend this wasn't always going to end here and isn't ever going to let me pretend again.
I squeal, clutching at his neck, his body so solid and warm it wrecks me.
He doesn't say a word as he stalks down the hallway, past the equipment room, and then turns into a utility closet. He kicks the door shut behind us, the force so loud it echoes.
"Say it again," he rasps, his voice all gravel and need, his eyes burning like fire as he pins me to the door.
I can't breathe, but I force the words out anyway. "I love you."
There's a heartbeat of silence, then his mouth is on mine, his kiss hot and deep and greedy, like he's trying to swallow the memory of me not saying it last night. His hands are rough as he yanks my sweats down like he can't wait another second.
"I love you," I say, as his fingers slide inside me.
He lifts my hips and wraps my legs around his waist, groaning wildly. He doesn't bother with finesse or patience. My hoodie's bunched up under my arms, my panties barely hanging on as he fingers me, fumbling with his own shorts.
The look on his face is pure hunger. I don't even try to slow him down. I don't want him to slow down. I want him right here and now, just like this.
