Page 93 of Hart Breaker

“And when you’re out of town and I’m here, it can stay here?”

“Which brings on another question: how the fuck am I going to sleep tonight without you?”

“Whose titties will you grab?” she jokes.

“The only titties I want in my hands are these ones.” I skate my hand up her side and feel a bra. “Not disappointed you’re wearing a bra to work, but I’m disappointed you have one on right now.”

“What time do you have to be at the stadium tomorrow?”

“Up at six, there at eight, home by four or five.”

“You better get home and get some sleep.”

“You’re trying to get rid of me?” I squeeze her boob.

“No, but I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning. They’re gonna do a full exam, and then I think I’m going to get an IUD.”

“Why the fuck are you going to get an IUD?”

“Because I’m not gonna take birth control.”

“An IUD is birth control. I’m ready. Let me know when you are.”

“You do realize that this is not normal behavior for a twenty-three-year-old man, right?”

“I’ll be twenty-four on the thirteenth.”

“Of this month?”

“No, Brooksie, my birthday is the day before yours.”

“I know that.” She rolls her eyes. “I totally stalked your Insta, which didn’t give much more than your stats.”

I pull her closer. “Oh yeah? So, why the hell are you asking me then?”

“I didn’t want to sound like a stalker.”

“I’m an open book to you; stalk away.” I lean down and give her a kiss, and she gives it right back, arching her back, giving me those titties. That’s when we hear the fucking bar go crazy.

There’s no shame in either one of our games as we fucking haul ass inside and celebrate the fact that the Cowboys kicked some Philly ass and the New York Knights are now number one in the NFC.

Less than two minutes after that, she was pushing me out the door, telling me I needed to get sleep, using my own damn words against me. “Gotta show up to practice so you’re game ready. Gotta get in the time.”

Yeah, she and I are gonna be epic slash unstoppable.

Lying in bed, wishing she was here, I send her a text.

Me:

Love you, RB

Riley Mae Brooks:

Love you, HH.

Riley Mae Brooks:

Can I swing by at like eight?

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