Page 71 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

“I said what I said.” Rico looks at each of us, then walks off.

“Chase?” Danica asks, glancing between Sully and the board. She’s waiting for him to answer it. His cheeks turn pink. It’s weird to hear someone call him by his first name. He’s always just been Sully.

“Umm . . .” He thinks about his answer, then he blurts out, “Baseball.”

“What? How do you not like baseball?” Dylan asks, he’s standing behind us.

“It’s boring.”

“No, it isn’t.” Dylan laughs.

“Then you’ve never played it. Just standing there for indefinite amounts of time waiting and then hoping the ball doesn’t come your way. No, thanks. It’s a slow game. Bores me.”

“I love baseball. I played it in the springtime all the way through high school.” He fakes like he’s swinging a bat.

“Of course you did. But the question is, what’s something you hate that others don’t. I know people love baseball. It’s just not for me.”

“I hate marshmallows,” Dylan says as if that’s not the oddest dislike ever.

“Why?” I ask him.

He tips his chin up, letting us know there’s no discussion about his reasoning. “The texture, the taste, the squishiness, they’re sugar squares and therefore bad for you. Marshmallows are just stupid and shouldn’t have been invented.”

Everyone standing around the board laughs.

“Who pissed in your hot chocolate?” J.J. chimes in while grinning.

“They’re disgusting. I stand by what I said.” He walks off.

A few other players call out answers, and then Bryan stops next to me.

“The Destroyers,” he says as we make eye contact, and he nods at me.

I nod back, clamp him on the shoulder, and smile.

You know for certain, our interaction here will make the reel.

Good. I hope he sees it.

Chapter 31

Lily

Morgan and I stayed at the beach for three full days, and we left this morning. While I love spending time with her, I couldn’t wait to get back to Tampa, to get back to Tyler. All I’ve done is replay every second of those kisses and what they might mean. I know it changes things, but as for how much, I’m not sure.

Those kisses . . . they also left me wanting more. So much more.

Tyler was at work when I got home. Morgan stayed for maybe an hour, and then she was ready to get on the road. Considering the traffic, it’s a nine-to-ten-hour drive to Nashville, and as it was, she would be hitting Atlanta during the afternoon rush hour.

That left me with hours of waiting for him to get home.

I took a shower, I unpacked my suitcase, I went to the grocery store, I made us a chicken stir-fry for dinner, and I waited.

Waited and got nervous.

Clearly, he wanted that kiss as bad as I did, but I don’t have any idea what he’s thinking now. Maybe since he’s had a few days, he’s changed his mind. God, I hope he hasn’t because that one taste wasn’t enough. I want to feel his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, his warm skin against mine, and well, I want to feel him everywhere.

Am I obsessed with him? Yes. I have been for what feels like my whole life. But if he just wanted to remain friends, I could do that too. I hope he doesn’t. I hope he’s feeling as wound up as I am, and I hope together we’ll unravel.