Page 85 of Fragile

I lean down under my desk and pick up the long bean-filled dog. “Wanna set up food and the TV while I warm this up?”

“On it,” she says, and I disappear into the hallway.

I quickly warm the dog in the microwave, and with a couple of minutes on the clock, I’m back in my room with my girl. As soon as she sees me, her face lights up, and I feel like I'm running down the sideline with seconds left on the clock, the end zone just within reach, ball snug in my hands and I cross that line. Shemakes me feel like I can do pretty much anything when she looks at me like that.

“I hope you weren’t joking about letting me cry while watching Taylor and dipping French fries into my milkshake, because all of that is on the horizon, buddy.”

“Buddy, huh?” I muse, closing my door with a soft snick. “Is that what I am? Your buddy?” I can’t help the grin tugging at my lips as I move closer to the bed where she’s curled up. There’s a spark in her green eyes that makes my heart race, and before I can second-guess it, I toss the heating pad aside and dive onto the bed. She squeals as I tackle her, laughter bubbling up between us when I tickle her sides, her hands weakly swatting at me in protest.

“You’re not my—oh my god!—you’re not my buddy!” she squeals, her voice breaking with laughter as my fingertips dig into her sides, her most ticklish place.

“Oh no?” I taunt while keeping her pinned beneath me. “Then what am I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, it feels like someone hit the pause button in the room. Her laughter dies down, and I’m hovering above her, our faces just inches apart, the rise and fall of her chest echoing the rhythm of my own breathing. Her eyes, still shining with the traces of her laughter, meet mine, and the world seems to still for a moment.

I should say it. The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue. I can feel them, taste them even, but something stops me. Fear, maybe. The fear that once those words are out, there’s no taking them back. That everything could change. That things between us could change. Hearing Quinn tell me she loved me would make me realize I’m wholly unworthy of her. When was the last time someone told me that? Jesus, I don’t remember.

But the thing is, she gives me the strength to make me want to fight to be worthy of her because the thought of not having her now? I hate it.

Her eyes search mine, as if she’s trying to read my mind, and for a second, I’m sure she knows what I want to say. But then she smiles—a soft, almost shy smile that tugs at something deep inside me, and lifts up to rub her nose against mine. “You’re not just my buddy, Miles.” Her breath hitches slightly, and I see the faint blush that colors her cheeks. She opens her mouth, as if to say something else, but then closes it, her expression a mix of uncertainty and something that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Tell me,” I whisper, imploring for her to say something that I think she feels too. Silently begging for her to take the lead here.

“You’re…” she starts, her voice barely above a whisper as her throat works on a swallow. “You’re…everything.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m speechless. Everything? The way she’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing that matters in the world, makes me feel like I could actually be that for her.

I feel the overwhelming urge to close the tiny gap between us, to show her just how much those words mean to me. But before I can act on it, she presses her lips to mine, cutting off any thoughts I might have had. This kiss is different—deeper, more certain. It’s as if she’s pouring all the things she can’t say into this one moment, and I can feel it in every fiber of my being.

My hand moves instinctually from her waist to cradle the side of her face, pulling her even closer. The kiss is soft and urgent, tender and fierce all at once.

When we finally break apart, her forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing heavily. My heart pounds harder, trying to sync with the chaotic rhythm of hers I feel underneath me.

“Everything, huh?” I say softly as a small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I brush a thumb over her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under my touch.

She nods, her smile mirroring mine, and I want to make sure that I can be her everything, always because she’s my First Down: All the way girl.

Chapter thirty-nine

Miles

There’s a faint buzzingsound, like a bee hovering dangerously close to my ear. I need it to stop because I’m in the middle of something with Quinn. She’s pinned against the locker room door, moaning my name as my hands explore her body—buzz, buzz, buzz. Seriously, what the hell is that noise?

“Do you hear that?” I ask, my voice rough with frustration. But Quinn doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy leaving a trail of hot kisses down my neck, her breath sending shivers along my spine.Buzz, buzz, buzz.The sound is relentless, clawing at the edges of my mind.

I try to ignore it, try to stay in this moment with her, but it’s getting louder. Reluctantly, I pull away from Quinn, the loss of her warm body jarring, and turn to face the source of the noise. Suddenly, I’m not in the locker room anymore. I’m on the field, and Seb is there, hurling something toward me.

“Cooper!” he yells, and I see it—a giant, furious bee zooming right at me. It’s all buzzing wings and stingers, and I really don’t want to catch it. But Seb’s my QB, and I never back down froma pass. I spin, my instincts taking over, but instead of the ball, I crash face-first into the cold, hard floor of my dorm room.

“Urghhhh,” I groan. Peeling my face from the carpet, I struggle to lift my sleepy body from the hard floor. “What the hell,” I say gripping the side of my bed for support. “Jesus.” I wince as I rub my chest.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

“Fuck! What is that?” I curse, the sound louder now. Just as I pull myself up, I see my phone lit up on my bed, telling me my alarm has been going off for the last thirty minutes. Great, I’m running late for our pre-game team breakfast at the dining hall. Of all the days to sleep in, it had to be today.

Throwing on a pair of shorts and a shirt from my drawers, I grab my phone, swallow some mouthwash, and run like my ass is on fire.

“There he is, sleeping beauty himself,” Hudson teases as soon as I step foot inside. The smell of buttered toast, eggs and bacon assaults me and my stomach groans in response.

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