I didn’t answer. I just leaned down and kissed him.
It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t about sex. It was a plea. It was a confession. It was every word I was too scared to say out loud poured into the way mylips moved against his. I kissed him like I was trying to breathe his air, like I was trying to merge our souls so we could never be torn apart.
Please feel this,I prayed silently as his hands came up to grip my waist, anchoring me to him.Please know.
I pulled back just an inch, resting my forehead against his, our breathing syncing in the quiet room.
This man,I thought, my heart overflowing with a love so big it felt like it might crack my ribs.This man is going to be everything to me.
Or he is going to destroy me.
15
THANKSGIVING - PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
Now playing: Do I Wanna Know? - BBC Live Lounge - Hozier
TheliveshowinPhiladelphia was unreal. Not only were the fans unlike any I’d ever seen, but their love for Cal was intense. He was this city’s son, their prince, and they made that crystal clear last night.
I was supposed to fly out to North Carolina afterward. It was Thanksgiving, a rare time I was off, a rare time Iactuallywent back to see my dad and uncle. But the flight was delayed. And delayed. And delayed.
I ended up spending the night in the airport waiting, watching the departure board turn into a sea of red text.
But before things got worse, they got better.
My phone rang. Murran. Why was he calling on a holiday?
“Hello?” I answered hesitantly as I stepped to a less crowded spot in the airport. The snowfall outside was heavy, a white curtain over the glass, and there was no doubt that was the cause of so many delays.
“Reed! How are you? Enjoying the holiday?”
“Uh, yeah, how about you?”
“Just fine. I’m calling to discussFront Lineswith you. After careful consideration, and many conversations, Creative, myself, and Mr. Harlow are in agreement. We think you’re ready for a push, and we want it to happen Sunday.”
My body felt cemented to the floor. My heart dropped, my eyes widened. This couldn’t possibly be real. They thoughtIwas ready? ThatIwas worthy, already?
“I don’t know what to say, I—”
“No need, son, you earned it. You’ve busted your ass. And the fans see it. You’ll do great. Don’t overthink it,” Murran said, his voice brimming with a confidence I didn’t feel.
I swallowed hard, my throat clicking.
“Thank you, sir.” It was all I could say.
“See you Sunday. Happy Thanksgiving, Silas.”
The line went dead, and my world was spinning.What the hell? A push? A championship run?
Now, back to reality.How the fuck do I get out of Pennsylvania?
“Fuck me,” I muttered.
Canceled.
Canceled.
Canceled.
