Page 33 of Home Game

I move my hands to her elbows, then slowly glide my palms up her arms, then neck, until my hands cradle her face.

“I think I can get more than a dime for it,” I tease, our mouths now inches apart.

Peyton lifts up on her toes and blinks slowly. She runs her fingertip over the cut on my upper lip and I twitch. Her gaze flits to mine.

“You get more for recycling in Michigan. You’re welcome to try that if you want. Or you can take my deal.”

The healthy side of my mouth raises with a tiny smirk. She’s so funny and smart. Smart-mouthed for sure, but also . . . just smart. And so fucking beautiful. My chest tightens again, and the thumping inside gets louder.

“I’m sorry about starting shit with Bryce tonight,” I say with a hard swallow.

She shakes her head slowly.

“That wasn’t because of you. And Whiskey told me it was his idea to come. I shouldn’t have made you all feel unwelcome.”

I squint one eye and dimple my cheek with the good side of my mouth.

“You were a little harsh,” I tease.

She shakes her first against my ribs, her hand still clutching my shirt. She can have it. My shirt. My heart. My rib. Whatever she wants. She can take it if she’ll just give me one shot. One kiss.

“I’m not Bryce’s girl,” she says, a point she’s made clear many times. Still, I can’t help but hate that guy for having had something with her. And having cheated on her. And spreading stories about how clingy she is, and making her sound like a crazy ex to every other girl he bragged to. He used her as clout, used the fact he dated a famous man’s daughter as a way to up his own cachet.

“I know,” I say in a hushed tone. My eyes zero in on her mouth. I feel her breath against my chin.

“I’m nobody’s girl. I belong to me.” Her eyes are open, and I lean back a tick to meet her gaze and prove to her that I hear her.

“Okay,” I say.

Her attention once again dips to my mouth, and her tongue peeks out between her lips. While her left hand twists my shirt into a tighter hold, her right one nudges my chin toward hers, and I bend down just enough for her sweet, perfect mouth to touch my bottom lip. It takes every ounce of self-restraint in my body not to sayfuck itand kiss her the way I want to. But I’d onlybust open my stitch and probably bleed all over both of us. So I’ll have to settle for slow.

I indulge in her being in charge of this. She takes my bottom lip between hers and sucks in lightly, her tongue passing along my skin as she holds my mouth to hers. I forgo breathing. In fact, I don’t fill my lungs once after her feet flatten back on the pavement. I definitely don’t draw in air when she unfurls my shirt from her grip. It’s not until her hand falls from my chin and I let go of her face and look into her almond-shaped brown eyes that I remember air exists at all.

“I’ve decided,” she says, climbing into the driver’s side. I ease the door closed.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” My eyes don’t know where to focus. What mental pictures to snap most. Her mouth. Her face. The stray blonde hairs blowing across the bridge of her nose. Back to her mouth.

“I like you, Wyatt Stone. Quite a lot, I think.”

The full grin sneaks up on me, and I wince when it stretches my stitch. I touch the spot with my fingertips and Peyton giggles, then promptly rolls up her window and drives away.

Chapter Eleven

Eighteen.

I can vote and gamble on scratchers.

It’s a pretty epic day.

“Now, don’t forget about our big date tonight,” my grandpa says.

I cross my heart with my index finger, as if there were a chance I would ever miss fire-writing with him.

The Cardinals game is on, and my Grandma Rose is heating leftovers from the massive family dinner she made last night to celebrate my birthday. She tosses the red beef in with some fresh eggs so it qualifies as breakfast. It’s one of the few times she will let my grandpa indulge in eating off of his medically curated menu. Usually, she’s a stickler. Even now, I know she whipped that dish up with egg whites.

“Who’s ready for pancakes?” My dad claps as he jogs down the stairs, then rubs his palms together when he meets me at the bottom.

“Honestly, I’m still full after last night,” I admit.

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