Fuck it. We’re not together, but how will I explain that to Coach if someone takes a picture of us? For shit’s sake, I am twenty-six years old. I don’t even have to explain my personal life to my parents.
“How about we take a quick walk instead?” I suggest.
“Let me go put on some walking shoes.”
While Lilly changes shoes, I go to my place and slap a ball cap on my head, trying to go incognito, and meet her back at her place.
As we stroll toward downtown, the night sky provides us with extra privacy, secluding us from curious passersby who are still screaming and chanting in the streets after the win.
“What are your plans for the week?” I ask as we walk along the sidewalk.
“On Tuesdays, I volunteer at the homeless shelter with my dad. His foundation funds the shelter and we spend the morning passing out meals and performing other needed activities. It’ll be just me this week. My dad messaged me earlier that he couldn’t make it this week.”
“I could come with you if you want me to. Tuesday is my typical ‘off’ day.”
“You would?” There’s so much hope flickering in those deep green eyes with strands of gold that pull me into their depths. I can’t form words, so I nod.
Her eyes spark brighter than any precious gem. “I love our friendship. I never had one with a man.”
A bucket of ice drops over me, dampening any romantic notions. I’ve just been pushed deeper into the friend zone. Fucking great.
“Me neither,” I groan. Not that I don’t cherish our friendship. I just want everything else with her too.
“Is it strange for you? I mean we… and then we…” She’s so cute, all nervous.
“And now we’re friends.” The word tastes bitter.
“Have you ever thought about what you’ll do after football?” she asks, quickly changing the subject as if sensing my mood plummeting.
“No.”
Her eyes widen, blinking in incredulity. “No? Like not even once?”
I shrug. “If I am too busy thinking about the future, I’ll miss out on the present.”
A pensive expression crosses her features. “That was deep.”
I arch a brow at her. “I’m more than looks.”
“You’re so cocky.” She giggles, a flirty smile playing with the corners of her mouth.
I am all for the flirting that comes so naturally with her. “Am I? Never heard that before.”
She slaps her hand playfully on my arm. It rests there for a while, stirring heat under my skin.
“Tell me more about yourself,” I demand, needing to know everything about her. Needing to be the one who knows her best.
As we walk, we exchange stories about our childhoods, discovering more about the other—there’s no pressure, just amicable conversation, but I catch the longing there for stability. No wonder she is the relationship type. When she called me lucky for growing up in a stable household, I never thought about it like that. The things you’re used to become a matter of fact.
We move to things we like and dislike next.
“I can’t believe you don’t like watermelon. Are you even real?” I say, messing with her.
Her cute nose crinkles. “It’s always messy eating them.”
Oh, how I’d like to make a mess out of her—the trembling, writhing kind, crying out my name as I have my way with her, kind.Tone it down!
The night passes by too quickly for my liking. When I am with her, the world slips away. It’s only her and me and our “friendship.” Every needy fiber of my body demands to make this woman mine. The timing sucks, but I refuse to let her go for a second time.
