Page 96 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

“Lucy,” he says against my mouth, equal parts warning and want.

Footsteps sound in the hallway before either of us can decide what happens next.

Dylan rests his forehead against mine and laughs quietly. “We should go downstairs.”

“Probably.”

He reaches for my hand. “Later.”

The promise follows us out of the room.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Dylan

I lie back against the pillows while the muted rush of the shower carries through the room. The bedside lamp warms the walls and leaves the corners in shadow. Without Mom and Gemma downstairs, the house feels unfamiliar in the silence.

They’re going to a comedy club with some of our neighbors. They’ll be back before midnight.

Lucy and I decided to stay in. A quiet night alone is much more our speed.

I shift beneath the sheets, my mind drifting no matter how hard I try to focus.

Being here with Lucy feels different than any other experience I’ve had with girls.

I’ve dated before. Gone out with a girl in high school, kissed her, laughed through awkward dinners where neither of us really knew what we were doing. But none of that ever felt like this.

Lucy isn’t just someone I’m spending time with in between football practices. She’s someone I’m building something real with. Something I hope lasts beyond college.

Which means what she wants matters here, too. But she talks about possibilities, not plans. She doesn’t picture the future with the clarity I do.

That makes my chest ache.

Football has always been the center of my life. Practices, games, training, the constant drive to be better tomorrow than I was today. Everything else has always existed somewhere on the edges of that focus.

But Lucy doesn’t sit on the edges.

She’s woven into it now.

The way she watches games from the stands. The way she listens when I talk through plays, frustrations, things I’m not even sure how to explain.

She doesn’t try to compete with football.

She just stands beside it.

I wonder if she’s given herself permission to figure out what she truly wants after graduation.

The bathroom door opens, and I turn my head.

Lucy steps into the room wearing one of my old T-shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair is damp and loose, framing her face in loose waves, and when she looks at me, she smiles.

The sight of her pushes every other thought aside.

“You were in there a while,” I say lightly, shifting to make room. “Everything okay?”

She laughs under her breath. “I like taking my time.”

She climbs into bed beside me, and the moment she settles, I pull her close. She fits against me like she always does, her head resting over my heart. I press a kiss into her hair.