“Let them.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re the golden boy. The face of the franchise. I’m the coach’s daughter who broke the no-athletes rule.”
“You haven’t broken anything yet.”
“Exactly.Yet.” I gesture between us. “This, whatever this is, puts a target on both our backs. The media will make me the distraction. The reason you lose focus. The girl who ruined Reece Steele’s career.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You don’t know what’s going to happen. Nobody does.” I lean against my station, suddenly exhausted. “I’ve seen what the spotlight does to people, Reece. I grew up in it. Every girlfriend my dad’s players brought around got scrutinized, judged, and blamed when things went wrong. I watched relationships implode under pressure.”
“So, you decided never to risk it.”
“I decided to be smart about it.”
“And dating me isn’t smart.”
I meet his eyes. “No. It really isn’t.”
He nods slowly, processing. For a second, I think he’s going to accept it. Walk out. Let me rebuild my walls in peace.
Then he says, “What if we don’t date?”
I blink. “What?”
“What if we don’t make it a thing? No labels, no pressure, no relationship.” He leans against the desk across from me, mirroring my posture. “Just… us. Figuring it out.”
“That’s called dating, Reece.”
“That’s called not defining it until we’re ready.”
“Semantics.”
“Maybe.” He tilts his head. “But it’s also giving yourself permission to stop overthinking every possible outcome and see what happens.”
“I don’t overthink.”
His eyebrow rises.
“Okay, I overthink a little.”
“You’ve mentally mapped out every worst-case scenario since the second I walked into this studio three weeks ago.”
“Four weeks.”
“See? You’ve been counting.”
Dammit. He’s right, and the smug little smile on his face says he knows it.
“This is a bad idea,” I repeat, but there’s less conviction in it now.
“Probably.”
“My dad will murder you.”
“He’ll try.”
“The media will have a field day.”
