“I’m conserving,” he lied, biting lightly at my collarbone.
I shivered.“This… this is not conservation.”
He pulled back, breathing hard.His forehead rested against mine.We were a mess of tangled limbs and heavy breaths.
“We stop whenever you want,” he said.“I mean it.”
I looked at him.His eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing the iris.He looked wrecked.He looked beautiful.
“I don’t want to stop,” I admitted.“But if you play tired tomorrow and let in a soft goal, I’ll statistically analyze your failure until you cry.”
He laughed, collapsing onto the mattress beside me.“Cruel.”
“Effective.”
He rolled onto his side, facing me.He traced the line of my jaw with his thumb.
“We have to be careful,” he whispered.“I don’t want this to get out until you’re ready.”
“I don’t care about Ryan,” I said.“I only care about you and what you think.I want this.Here.Now.We’re in a suite in a fancy hotel in Boston on Valentine’s Day.We need to make the most of it.”
He smiled.“Shut up and come here.”
We slept in the middle of the king bed.
We didn’t need the space.We gravitated to the center, limbs tangled, creating our own gravity.
I woke up once in the middle of the night.The room was pitch black, save for the red light of the smoke detector.
Luke’s arm was heavy over my waist.His breath was warm on the back of my neck.
I lay there, listening to the hum of the hotel, and realized that for the first time in my life, I wasn’t calculating an exit strategy.
I just was.Best Valentine’s Day ever.I closed my eyes and let sleep take me under again.
Morning came too fast.
The alarm on my phone blared at 6:30 a.m.
Luke groaned, burying his face in the pillow.“Five more minutes.”
“No,” I said, sliding out of bed.The room was cold.“I have to shower.I have to present a paper on geometry in ninety minutes.”
“Geometry,” Luke mumbled.“Angles.”
“Exactly.”
I showered quickly, trying not to think about the fact that Luke was just feet away from me.
When I came out, dressed in my presentation clothes—slacks, button-down, the blazer I only wore twice a year—Luke was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He was wearing his team tracksuit.He looked like a goalie again.
“You look smart,” he said.
“I am smart.”I checked my watch.“I have to go.The symposium breakfast starts at seven.”
“I have team breakfast at seven-thirty,” he said.
