This is it. The moment where I either pull back to my comfort zone and protect myself, or I take a leap of faith.
I force myself to hold his gaze, even as my stomach twists into knots. “Yeah, I think you’re right. But maybe that’s okay.”
The silence stretches between us, and for a terrifying second, I worry that I’ve pushed too far or wanted too much, too soon.
Then he crosses the room in three powerful steps and pulls me against him.
His mouth crashes down on mine with a kiss so deep and consuming that I feel instantly reassured even though he hasn’t said anything out loud yet. I melt into him, clinging to his strong shoulders as he walks me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard and fast.
“You really want people to know?” he asks, pressing his forehead against mine. “You want them to know you’re mine?”
“Yes.” For once, I don’t feel like I need to hesitate or overthink my answer. “I want that.”
He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, I can see a glimpse of the raw vulnerability that he normally keeps hidden so well. “I’ve wanted that since the first time I saw you in the stands.”
“Grant—”
“I’m serious.” He frames my face with his hands and brushes his thumbs over my cheekbones. “I didn’t know how to want someone this much. I didn’t even know it was possible. But then there you were, and everything changed.”
My chest feels so full and tight that it’s almost too much. “I was so scared. I’m still scared.”
“Of me?”
“Not you. Just… this. Of how much I already feel for you.” I reach up and cover his hands with mine. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to hold back.”
“Then don’t.” He kisses me again, softer this time. “Wear my jersey. Let everyone know. I want the whole damn world to know you’re with me.”
I smile against his mouth. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
He lifts me onto the bed, following me down and settling his weight over me. But instead of tearing the jersey off, he just looks at me wearing it with a sort of awestruck reverence that makes me feel emotional right along with him.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says quietly. “Seeing you in this.”
“I think I have some idea.” I can feel exactly what I do to him, pressed hard against my thigh.
He grins, and it transforms his whole face. “Yeah. I guess you do.” He looks back over his shoulder at the open doorway. “Where’s April, by the way?”
“Watching a movie downstairs in the theater room.”
“Smart.”
I feign an innocent smile and half-shrug my shoulders. “A mom has to take her opportunities where she can find them.”
“I know that’s right.” He gives one more look over his shoulder before turning back to me. “Well, I don’t want to push our luck too much, but maybe we can stay like this for a little longer? Just lying here together for a few more minutes?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. A lot.”
“Good.” He kisses me again, then leans in close to my ear and whispers, “Me too.”
The next evening, I stand in front of my bedroom mirror and smooth down the jersey one more time. I’m a ball of nerves, but I’m also more excited to go out and be seen in public than I’ve been in a long time.
Tonight is the night. No more hiding. No more pretending this is just casual.
