I flirted with a dangerous line when I tilted my torso toward him to talk. “Good luck zoning out. I’m going to try and listen to my music and read if I can.”
He reached over and put a hand on my forearm before answering. “Good luck.”
Then, he closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat. His hands rested on his lap, his face so freaking peaceful with his eyes closed. There were no mood swings. It was a pure, sculpted face of beauty. I stared. Stared a little more, the book in my hand not doing its job distracting me. He stirred a bit, making my gaze snap to my hands. I didn’t want to get caught ogling my boss, mentor, and tormentor all wrapped up into a beautiful package.
I read the first page three times and retained nothing. Fine. I put my book back in my back, annoyed at the music, Brock’s body, and the inability I had to relax. I shifted, crossing my legs.
That didn’t work.
I tried a different position, putting the pillow on my lap and resting my face on it. Two trap rap songs later, I lifted the pillow, moving my legs again, and froze when Brock’s hand went out and pressed on my knee. I gasped at his sudden touch.
“Grace, sit still.” He squeezed my knee before releasing it. “Your squirming is driving me crazy.”
He still hadn’t opened his eyes and spoke lazily like he had no care in the world. It was so not like him. “I’m sorry. I can’t get comfortable.”
“Here.” He moved, grabbing the pillow so it leaned against him. We wouldn’t be touching, but, it had a certain familiarity in it. I wouldn’t do this to a stranger on a public bus, but he wasn’t a stranger. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. I want to use your pillow, too.”
“Ah, your hidden motive,” I joked, moving around so my head could rest on the pillow, which rested on him. It was a cuddle by the transitive property, but that was my nerd talking.
“Pretty much. Now, relax. I promise it doesn’t get better or worse.” He laughed at his own joke, and the action charmed me.
“You’re a goofball.” I closed my eyes, not taking in his scent or heat at all. Nope. I focused on relaxing and thinking about anything but our proximity. He shifted his position, so our faces were even closer together on the shared pillow. We didn’t need to lean into each other to talk over the music.
“No one has ever called me a goofball before.” His voice held a tone of incredulousness and a little sadness, too. The fact we weren’t looking at each other made it more intimate.
“Well, I ain’t a liar.”
“I ain’t callin’ you a truther.”
I sat up, wide-eyed and on the brink of laughter. “Did you really just quote back Drake and Josh at me?”
“Um, yes. Why are you laughing?”
“Because that’s awesome!” I held out my hand for a high five. Why? I had no idea. But I did. And he looked at it for a second before following through and hitting it. “No one should ever turn down a high five. It’s plain rude.”
He snorted and blessed me with a beautiful smile. Whatever crankiness he had was gone, and I was proud I had a part in it. I hit the pillow to fluff it up a bit before lying back down. “You just went up a hundred points.”
“What do the points mean?” he asked, his voice sleepy and husky and dangerous.
“Absolutely nothing. But they are good points.”
He didn’t reply but patted my leg with his hand. It was comforting and cute. I fought down the wave of attraction that was coming full force. Only three hours and forty minutes until arrival. I could survive.
* * *
I waitedin the corner in the lobby of the hotel as Brock grabbed the room assignments from the head coach. It was freaking packed. The hotel had to be booked solid for the game with alumni from all over coming into town. We had already waited in line thirty minutes to check in.
Logan joined me moments later with an easy smile that oozed confidence. “You get your room number yet? I’m on the second floor.”
“I have no idea. Brock went to grab our cards. I still haven’t spoken to the head coach one on one yet. He’s a bit intimidating.” I looked over the head coach. He had dressed in all black and orange, with a pullover shirt that fit the coaching persona and a hard, scared face that told stories. He looked badass, and I was a little glad he was on the other bus.
“I get it. But ask him about his daughter. He turns into a softie.” Logan winked at me. “I’m probably stuck with Brock, so I’ll see you later.”
“See ya.” My stomach clenched when I glanced at Brock. His expression. Holy shit. If what I had seen before on him was anger, then this was past that. I went through everything I could’ve done wrong.Did I forget equipment?Sweat broke out on my forehead, and my pulse pounded.
He walked toward me, stopping a few feet in front of me and fisted his hand at his side. His nostrils flared, his lip curling up on one side as he barked at me. “Let’s go.”
“Woah, Anderson. What happened?”
