“I could honestly not give a fuck. And you’re not that girl. You may have a hard outer shell but inside,” —he lightly taps my chest right above my heart— “you’re soft and gooey.”
I smack his knee. “You make me sound like a Cadbury creme egg.”
He grabs the hand I just hit him with and tangles our fingers together. I lose all capability of breathing.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Aurora, inside and out. And if Cam hadn’t threatened to kick my ass, I would have asked you out years ago.”
I’m officially having a heart attack. Can eighteen-year-olds have heart attacks?
“With that being said,” he backtracks, “I’m very happy that you agreed to be friends. I like you, Aurora. I always have. And I see you, the real you. The you that you try to hide away from everyone. Cam got to see it, but I’ve always seen it, too.”
“Jackson,” I suspire, lost in his words and how good my hand feels to be held in his, touching his skin.
“I love it when you say my name like that.”
I give myself a moment to enjoy this new, strange feeling before I shut it down.
Everyone leaves.You’re a mess.In a few days, a simple piece of paper may change your life forever.
I untangle our hands and sit back against the tree trunk, needing those extra inches of space between us. Thankfully, JD doesn’t push further with his words. What he does do is take the apple from my hand, turn it around, and bite into the same spot I had.
“Our first game is this Friday.”
He licks his lips, and my stomach drops with such a visceral pull of lust, it makes my vision hazy. This guy is going to be my undoing, I just know it.
Trying to get things back into the friend zone, I ask, “That’s in two days. Are you nervous about it?”
He hands me back my apple and I just hold it, afraid that if I take another bite, it will taste like his lips.
“I’m always nervous whenever I play. I don’t want to let my teammates down, or my father.”
“Why would playing football let your father down?”
He removes the apple from my grip and places my hands palm-up, with his palm-down on top of mine. Apparently, we’re playing a game of slaps.
“Here’s the deal. For each time you win, you get to ask me a question.”
I flip my hands over quickly in a surprise attack, but his hands move away at lightning speed, and I miss completely.
“You are a sneaky cheat, Aurora St. Claire. I didn’t say go.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my giggle.
“You ready?”
“Ready,” I inform him.
I try several times to score a hit, and each and every time, I miss. “Dammit, JD, hold still.”
He’s laughing at my futile attempts which only makes me try harder. By the time I score a slap, I’m also laughing and shrieking playful curses at him.
“Ha! Now you have to answer my question.”
“Why would playing football let my father down? Because football is the only thing that I do that makes him proud of me.”
I stop laughing. “That’s really shitty that he makes you feel that way.”
“It’s the only way he knows. But I can’t really complain. My life is full of things a lot of people in this town don’t get to have.”
