I thought about my answer, removing my hand from his jaw. “I felt like I had to prove myself to you guys that I wasn’t just this tomboy. I don’t know. I feel foolish and regret it.”
It wasn’t until later that night, after I went up to my room and fell into bed exhausted, that I realized it wasn’tjustworry in his eyes. There was more.
Chapter Eighteen
The following morningwas exactly how I imagined it would be. The football players stumbled onto the bus exactly at the time required, smelling like shit. Coaches turned the other way when a couple of them threw up in the parking lot. The entire ride was silent. No music, no chatter, just silence. I welcomed the peaceful ride, reading a solid ten chapters in my book.
I forced myself to read a few pages before sneaking a look at him, but when he wore his glasses, it became increasingly more difficult. It went on repeat: read, look at Brock, think about him, repeat. He was gorgeous.
He was kind, patient, and passionate.
He was a survivor, something that hit home with me.
Loyal, hardworking, family-oriented.
He set my soul on fire. After taking an incredibly relaxing shower and thinking about what transpired at the bar, I came to two major realizations… First, I was falling hard for Brock. I didn’t know what he felt or how much, but those haunted eyes were more than friendly.
But second, we worked together. He was my boss. He was in charge of my grade.
I closed my eyes, thinking back to a conversation with my mom when I was a junior in high school about boys and all her fantastic advice.
“Sweetie, there are two types of people you can fall in love with. The first gives you sweaty palms, heart racing kind of excitement. The passion will fizzle in time. Trust me. The second kind, this kind is the best. Your soul is set on fire, your mind is challenged, and most importantly, you feel safe—”
* * *
“Grace, wake up.”The voice of an angel stirred my dreamless sleep. The angel had soft feathers running down my face. I grinned, enjoying the sensation very much. “Aw, hell. Don’t smile like that.”
The feather moved from my face to my side, poking me. I didn’t like being poked. I jumped, the harsh reality of sitting on a bus for hours on end crashing down on me. I wiped my eyes, seeing Brock’s incredible blue ones gazing at me with a bemused expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“’cause you had this stupid grin on your face in your sleep.” His eyes danced as he jutted his chin toward the window. “We’re pulling into the parking lot now.”
“Huh.” I followed his gaze and shrugged. “Fast ride.”
“It was.” He cleared his throat, a small smile tugging on those magical lips. “Did you enjoy using me as a pillow for the majority of it?”
“Sure did. Sorry about that.” I yawned, stretching a bit and saw his eyes take me in. “You could’ve moved me.”
“Nah, it was okay. You looked peaceful. It was a nice change of pace to not hear you talk all the time.”
“Asshole,” I fired back, thankful he let me sleep. “I probably won’t sleep tonight, but it was a hell of a good nap.”
“Yeah? Why the goofy smile?”
“I dreamt of my mom. It was a good dream.”
He nodded, like he knew exactly what it meant when there were good dreams instead of the bad ones.
“It made me happy.”
“I’m glad. You have a wonderful smile.”
“Thank you.” My face warmed. Heart pitter pattered. Stomach galloped.
He sighed, putting a hand on my knee with a quick squeeze. “Do you need a ride home?”
I froze, forgetting to text Fritz for a ride. “Shit.”
“Don’t worry, I got you.” He smirked, clearly pleased at my predicament.
