I’m not sure what to do or say. When I reach for him, I take his hand in mine. “Hi.” My voice is shaky.
“Look at you.” His other hand comes up, tracing the Go Titans tattoo just above my collarbone.
“It’s over the top,” I say, turning my glitter-covered arm back and forth. “I’ve never worn this much glitter, not even for dance.”
“You look beautiful,” Ford whispers.
“Thank you.” I slide my hand around his neck and rub my thumb along the edge of his chin. He drops his head down, resting it against mine. With him this close, I hook my other arm around his neck, bringing his face down to mine, our lips only millimeters apart. “Ford, talk to me.”
“I feel all this pressure. Usually, I can compartmentalize or just let it go, but there’s too much of it, and it feels like it’s crushing me.”
“Tell me what you want?”
“I want to win this football game.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Go out and do my best and not worry about anything or anyone else.”
“Why?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair.
“Because it doesn’t matter. Coach Anderson can put all the responsibility he wants on me. It’s not going to change my how or my why. I play for me, my guys, and my team. I play because I love the game.”
“And that’s all that matters.”
“Hannah, thank you.”
“Ford, I love you.”
“I love you. I’m sorry about today. I’ve felt like I’ve been standing behind a wall all day, and the only way to get past it was figuring out all the answers right this second.”
“Don’t let stupid adults try to control you. You’ll figure out where you want to play football in your own time. Until then, just play the game you love.”
Ford sweeps his thumb across my cheek. “Tell me what you want?”
“I want you to kiss—”
Ford’s mouth envelops mine. I groan, opening my mouth, and he sweeps his tongue against mine in a possessive kiss. He wraps his arms around my waist, and my feet leave the ground. I grip the back of his pads and jersey and hang on. His hand trails down my hip and under my skirt. He guides my leg around his waist, then grips my ass. Every point where his hand touches my bottom sends an overload of pleasurable zings straight to the back of my belly. Suddenly my back hits the wall. “Is that the mirror?” I pant.
“No, we’re on the opposite wall.” Ford nips and sucks my bottom lip.
“Oh, good. I don’t want to leave my ass print on the mirror for someone to clean.”
Ford laughs so hard he snorts.
“Did you just snort in my neck?” I laugh.
He sits me down but doesn’t release me. “Yes, because only you would make that comment in the middle of a make-out session. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve always wanted to be the beautiful cheerleader who saves the handsome quarterback.” I laugh, sweeping Ford’s hair off his forehead.
Ford glides the back of his knuckles across my cheek. “Beautiful is an inadequate word. You helped me see what was important.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve never seen you like this. It scared me. I know you have a hard time opening up, but you have so many people in your corner who’d do anything for you. Never forget that.”
“I won’t.”
“Are you ready to go win a football game?” I ask.
