Page 79 of Beautifully Devoted

“Yeah, okay.” I let out a heavy sigh as I realize he’d been holding back because of the same fear I had. “I guess maybe we needed that push. I’m still not gonna make a habit of kissing you for show.”

“You’ll make a habit of kissing me, though… Right? Otherwise, I’ll feel like I’m getting cheated by the whole boyfriend thing.”

Rather than answer, I lean forward and press my mouth to his, teasing the seam of his lips with my tongue until he opens for me and lets me have a small, sweet taste.

“Still feel cheated?” I ask.

“Nope, I feel pumped. This is gonna be a great practice.” He pulls me along with the giddiness of a toddler chasing an ice cream truck, and even though I can still feel people watching us, it doesn’t irk me as much as it did a few minutes ago.

It’s hard to be moody when Jagger’s so happy, especially when it’s my lips that make him that way.

Unfortunately, things sour the moment we step inside the building.

“Jagger,” Coach barks before the door can even shut behind us. “My office, now.”

“Cam too?”

Even Coach can hear the plea in his tone, and when his eyes land on our joined hands his stern expression seems to soften. “Come on, then.”

We follow him down the hall and step inside his office, taking the two seats in front of his desk as he closes the door. My eyes wander over decades of memorabilia as we wait for him to sit, including team photos, awards, game balls, and a few framed jerseys.

The history in this room is impressive, which makes me even more grateful to be here, seeing as I don’t intend to pursue football after college.

Coach grabs a legal-sized envelope from his desk and tosses it towards Jagger as he takes a seat. “This came for you today. By courier.”

Jagger and I exchange a confused look, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“That was my reaction as well,” Coach says. “Not only have I never had a player get mail at my office, but I’ve never had a courier show up here, either. Do you have any idea what that might be?”

Jagger scratches his head. “No.”

“Do you want some privacy to open it?” Coach asks.

“Uh, that’s okay.” Jagger picks up the envelope with more composure than I would’ve expected given his audience, and gently tears it open. Coach can’t see what’s in the photo he pulls out, but I can, along with the sticky note pinned to it. It makes my skin crawl. Jagger’s too, if the panicked look he gives me is any indication.

“When would he have taken this?” Jagger tosses the picture on Coach’s desk like its poison, although that doesn’t stop the man from picking it up, his face turning a dark shade of red as he reviews the note.

“Be a shame if something happened to your friend. You know what to do.” Coach reads as he peels off the note and studies the picture of me stepping outside our house on the way to my truck. “Who’s threatening you? Is this a date at the bottom?” He fingers the bright yellow paper.

“Coordinates,” Jagger says. “My dad’s an outdoorsman. Or he used to be. I don’t know what he is now.”

“And what is it he wants you to do?” Coach asks.

“Give him fifty grand,” Jagger scoffs, knuckles going white where he’s gripping the arm of the chair he’s sitting in as his reaction morphs from shock to anger. “That bastard.”

“Is this why I have a message from your dad to call him back as soon as possible?” Coach asks me.

“Yes.” I rub my forehead to stave off the ache growing behind my brows. “Jagger’s dad approached us yesterday threatening to post a video of the two of us ki… Uh…” I shoot Jagger a panicked look since we never talked about what to say to Coach.

“We’re dating,” Jagger draws an imaginary line between the two of us. “Just, you know… For context.”

“Yeah,” I continue. “So, uh… His dad wants cash, or he’ll post a video of us—”

“Not a sex tape. We don’t have one of those.” Jagger sounds nonchalant, but I can see his leg bouncing so I know it’s a forced calm.

“I don’t think he assumed that.” I feel my face getting almost as red as Coach’s, for an entirely different reason.

“Your dad did.”

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