Page 71 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

That thought should scare me.

Instead, it makes me want to protect this, protect us, with everything I have.

“I was thinking…” she says, her voice dipping, playful but sincere. “I’d really like to… return the favor. The way you made me feel the other night.”

My pulse stutters.

“Yeah?” I manage.

She nods, cheeks flushed. “My parents and Aunt Joss will probably want to talk all night, and since your roommates are out… maybe we could go to your dorm.”

I grin, sliding my arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. The anticipation between us is undeniable. We both know why we’re going.

We walk across campus beneath a sky heavy with clouds, the moon glowing faintly behind them. The world feels smaller somehow. Quieter.

When we reach my dorm, I unlock the door and lead her inside. The hallway is empty, our footsteps soft as we make our way to my room.

Once inside, I close the door behind us. She slips off the sweatshirt and turns toward me, nervous but resolved.

We reach for each other at the same time, and when our lips meet, the kiss is deep and urgent.

Chapter Seventeen

Lucy

We’re tangled together in Dylan’s bed, the muted glow of the TV flickering across the walls. My head rests on his chest while one arm curves around me beneath the covers. I’m wearing his shirt, the fabric soft and oversized, carrying the clean, familiar scent of him.

Being with Dylan feels like safety. Like stepping out of a storm I didn’t even realize I was standing in. And yet, no matter how tightly he holds me, my thoughts refuse to quiet. Ray Upton’s voice echoes in my head. Supporting someone’s career doesn’t mean surrendering every part of your own life. The two of you need to talk honestly about what happens if your dreams lead in different directions.

The question refuses to loosen its hold on my thoughts. I’ve always believed love conquers all. Every romance novel I’ve ever read promises the same thing. That no matter the obstacle, no matter the cost, love wins.

It makes space for more, not less.

But what if loving someone whose dream is bigger than yours means slowly folding yourself smaller?

Ray didn’t have to raise his voice. He didn’t threaten or insult me. He simply asked a question neither of us has answered yet.

Dylan is built for movement. For roaring crowds and stadium lights and a game that pulses through his veins.

I am built for quiet corners. For the same streets. For knowing the barista by name and walking the same path home every night.

As I lie in Dylan’s arms, I can’t stop wondering if that’s exactly what’s going to happen. If one day, he’ll look back and realize I don’t fit into the life he’s meant to have.

The last hour replays in my mind. The patience in Dylan’s voice. The way he let me ask questions without embarrassment. The quiet closeness afterward.

I’m not ready for more, but what’s growing between us feels more powerful than anything I’ve ever read in a book.

I’ve never had the kind of friendships where you talk openly about intimacy, where you dissect feelings and fears with wine glasses and late nights. Most of what I know comes from novels, from stories where everything unfolds neatly, where love always seems to know where it’s going.

What I have with Dylan doesn’t feel neat.

It feels complicated.

I don’t want to become the thing that slows him down. I don’t want to be an anchor when he’s meant to run. But the closer we get—the deeper we sink into each other—the more impossible it feels to separate myself from his future.

And that terrifies me.

Carefully, I slip out of his arms, easing myself off the bed so I don’t wake him. I tug the hem of his shirt down over my thighs, wrapping myself in the familiar weight of it, then quietly turn the doorknob. I just need a second. I need a minute to separate my own fears from everyone else’s opinions.