“It’s a free fall down to having no private life at all is what it is,” Dylan says. His tone is fierce, and his expression tells me there’s no room for argument.
“Agreed.”
He lowers his head to make direct eye contact with me. “And backing up to what happened in there”—he gestures to the room we just walked out of—“you don’t need to defend me you know.”
“I know,” I say awkwardly.
He takes my arm. “Let’s stop in my room for a minute so we can talk in private.”
We begin walking down the hall.
“Obviously you can take care of yourself,” I say quietly. “I just didn’t see you doing it.”
“I can’t take on every journalist who doesn’t get me, Jasalie. Do you know how many times a week I’d be in a fight?”
“I just don’t understand. Why would you do interviews with people who are so awful? How is that possibly worth it to you?”
Dylan sighs and puts his keycard into the slot. “I don’t know,” he says as he lets us into his room. “I guess I don’t really feel I have a lot of control over the whole thing. Tim usually just tells me where and when.”
“I think you should tell Tim he wouldn’t have so much money if it weren’t for you,” I say. “Plus, it’s what you do on the football field that matters, not what you say in a magazine interview.”
Dylan flops down on his back onto the bed. “Come here.” He pats the spot next to him.
I take a seat on the very edge of the bed and wave my arms. “That guy didn’t respect you, period. That’s not right. It doesn’t matter who you are. It’s not okay.”
“I like how animated you are right now.” Dylan’s eyes sparkle as he imitates my arm movements. “Very hot.”
I make a face at him. “Ha. Obviously you don’t agree with my point.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not that I don’t agree. I appreciate your point. And I have to admit I was really surprised when you stood up and said something in my defense like that. I didn’t know you cared so much.”
My face goes hot. “It’s no big deal.”
“I think it’s a big deal.” Dylan puts his hand on my thigh. “So, does this mean you like me a little bit maybe?”
He says it in a teasing tone, but his cheeks flush.
“Maybe a little,” I mumble.
His eyes light up.
“But don’t start getting a big head about it,” I warn him. “Because then I won’t like you anymore.”
“Okay. Got it.” Dylan puts his hands on my waist and pulls me further onto the bed until I’m practically lying on top of him.
His eyes hook mine. “You’re remarkable,” he says in nearly a whisper. “You blow me away, Jasalie.”
The heat of his body presses against mine, and I lean my head on his shoulder. His heart’s beating as fast as mine is, but I try to relax into the rhythm of his chest moving in and out as he breathes.
But when I feel his breathing get shallower and faster, my stomach clenches and my mouth goes dry.
Dylan reaches over and strokes my hair gently. Then his hand moves to my shoulder. He rubs it before moving to my arm. And then my hip.
Stop him. Stop him.
By the time he reaches my leg, I’m biting down on a gasp. I close my eyes and let him touch me.
His breathing gets louder as he brushes his fingers across my thigh and then over the front of my jeans.
