Page 75 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

“You will next year when I’m playing in it.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I wonder if I should’ve said them or not. It isn’t the first time I’ve alluded to the fact I want her past this week. I’m waiting for her to call me out on it, for us to broach the subject of our arrangement again so I can tell her I don’t think what we previously decided on will work for me anymore.

I can’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment when she seems to gloss right over my comment. “I think you need to make the official call that this will be your last year. Stop waffling on your decision and make it. Let anyone who tries to change your mind know that it’s useless. Be confident in your choice and stick to it.”

“You make that sound so simple.”

Her hands find either side of my face. I love the feeling of her fingers brushing through the overgrown locks of my hair. She looks at me with her bright blue eyes and her beaming smile, and it’s almost painful how happy I feel in this very moment. “It is simple. You’re just making it complicated because you don’t want to disappoint people.”

I raise my eyebrows because damn…she’s spot-on. For someone who loves to mention how much of a mess she is, she really does have a grasp on others. “I think I’m done with the analyzing for the morning. Maybe we should talk more about what you want to do with your life after this summer and what makes you happy?”

I grab the back of her neck and pull her face to me, trailing my lips down her neck. She laughs against my chest, and I love the feel of it. I love the feel of her. I continue to dust kisses along her neck until I pull away to meet her eyes.

She looks between my lips and eyes. Her lips rub together before she gives me a shy smile. “Right now, what makes me happy is you. And that’s all I want to think about at the moment.”

When she leans in to kiss me, I let her, even though it’s at the tip of my tongue to ask her to make me part of her plans for the summer and even after that.

CHAPTER 38

EMMA

I stare at myself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric of the dress I’m wearing for what seems like the hundredth time.

Preston steps behind me, placing his hands on my hips as he stares at our reflections in the mirror. “Stop running your hands over the fabric,” he instructs, kissing right below my ear. “I spent almost an hour steaming all the wrinkles out.”

I smile, remembering the sight of him steaming my dress in nothing but a pair of his boxer briefs. It was hot as hell, and I almost want to wrinkle the dress all over again just to see him like that. “Oh, but you looked so good doing it,” I respond.

He trails his lips down my neck, making my eyelids flutter shut. We spent almost all of yesterday in bed together until we had to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. It felt almost normal. Like he wasn’t one of the most famous athletes in the world, and as if I wasn’t only pretending to be his girlfriend for the week.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” His hands tighten around my hips as his lips continue to blaze a path across my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“You might’ve mentioned it a few times.” The moment I opened my eyes this morning and found him already awake and watching me, he told me I was beautiful. He mentioned it again as I helped him make breakfast wearing nothing but a Manhattan Mambas shirt of his. I know he told me other times today as we got ready for his sister’s wedding day, and every time he said it, my heart leapt inside my chest.

“Well, I’m saying it again. I have the most beautiful date for the wedding, and I cannot wait to show you off.”

“Speaking of the wedding, we probably should get going.” I give him a smile through the mirror, even though inside, I’m twisted up with nerves. It isn’t because of the wedding. It’s because of what comes after.

Preston hasn’t given me any details about when he’s leaving or what his plans are, but our little agreement was only for me to be his date to the wedding. I’ve done my job. His sister’s friends have left him alone, and I haven’t overheard anyone trying to meddle with his love life since he introduced me as his.

Every time he mentions something about having me come to his games next year or that he’s getting used to waking up to me, I wait for him to say he wants more than this week. He hasn’t, and since I know I shouldn’t want something more from him when I have no idea where I’ll end up, I keep my mouth shut.

But faking it with him doesn’t feel fake at all anymore. And I don’t know what happens next.

All Preston does is continue to kiss along my neck and bare shoulder. I wish he wasn’t due for pictures at Pembroke soon. I want to get back in bed with him and forget that it’s already the end of our week together.

“Preston,” I say, his name coming out breathy as my entire body lights up with desire. “We have to get to your sister’s wedding. You can’t be late for pictures.”

“But I’m having so much fun watching my girlfriend blush for me.”

My girlfriend. God, the way he says it makes me believe everything between us is real.

“I think this is the first time in my life that I’m the responsible one,” I joke, pushing his hands from my hips, even though I miss the warmth the moment they’re gone. “As much as I’d love to stay here with you, we have to go, Rhodes. Now.”

He lets out a low groan of disapproval but doesn’t protest anymore. “I don’t like responsible Em as much.” He takes a step closer to the mirror and fixes his tie in it, something he’s done multiple times already.

If it isn’t perfectly straight, he’ll obsess and fidget with it until it’s to his liking. I find it incredibly cute, though I wonder if that’s something he’s going to still fuss over even at the wedding when he’s supposed to be having fun.

I use the opportunity to check him out again. Peyton’s wedding is black-tie. All of the guests were asked to wear black, and Preston looks incredible all dressed up. I thought I’d seen him dressed up this week in his button-ups and linen shirts, but none of them hold a candle to how he’s dressed right now.

The black suit is perfectly tailored to his body, and I might get in trouble tonight staring at the way the fabric hugs his perfect arms. I wet my lips just thinking about the tattoos he hides under the jacket. They’re my kryptonite.

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