Page 16 of A Quarterback for Christmas

He cracks his knuckles, and I pop out my lips, trying to think of something to say. “Sorry to hear that.” It was all I could muster, because a sarcastic jibe didn’t feel right.

“Me too,” he gripes out. There’s an awkward silence between us because this conversation just sucked all the easiness out of the room. Dare I say that I was almost having a good time with Drew before he brought up another girl.

I shake my head because I can’t believe I just thought that. I made a promise to myself to make his life hell, so I need to nip this camaraderie in the bud.

Yawning, I stretch my legs out, kicking Drew against his thighs. “You tired?” he asks, and I nod. “Same. Looking after you all day has been unsurprisingly exhausting.” He gets up and heads down a hallway that I can only assume is where his room is because he hasn’t bothered to give me a tour outside of pointing in the general direction of the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” he calls over his shoulder, and when he returns, he’s carrying a set of black pillows and a plaid blanket.

Lifting the bedding, he says, “Sorry, the only pillows I know are clean are the ones from my bed. I’ll find another set for you tomorrow.” He places the pillows on the coffee table in front of me and drapes the thick blanket over my body. “Lift up.” I raise my head, and he gently tucks the pillows behind my hair. His face is mere inches from mine, and his deep eyes watch me. If it wasn’t Drew staring, I’d think there was some affection behind those eyes.

Dropping my head onto the fabric, I’m immediately surrounded by Drew’s woodsy cologne. God, why does he always have to smell so good? Wearing the same stuff since high school, it’s always a guilty pleasure of mine, because who doesn’t like the smell of freshly washed man?

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath as I let the scent take over my senses. Warmth fills my bones, and I can finally relax. This will probably be the closest I’ll get to a man for a long time, but I feel safe. Protected, even.

“Something wrong, Belly?”

Busted.

With my eyes shut and a pleasant smile on my face, I don’t dare open them. I can feel his hot breath fanning my face, which can only mean one thing: he’s close enough to notice my reddened cheeks and sweaty brow.

Slowly, I pry one eye open and then the other. I was right. He’s right there, watching me like a hawk. “Uh, yeah, all good. Just making sure these pillows don’t smell of Brianna’s cheap perfume.” I slap the pillow hard and shift, so my shoulder pushes Drew out of the way.

Drew moves back, looking at me with surprise. I probably should have said thank you instead of insulting him again, but it’s easier to berate him than have him looking at me smugly satisfied over helping me.

“Not sure how many times I have to tell you I’m not sleeping with Brianna, but I’ll try again to see if it gets through that thick, blonde hair of yours. Brianna and I are just friends.” He backs away with a frown, and I know I’ve pissed him off, but I have no idea why he’s so hung up on my opinion of this.

“Goodnight, Bella.” It’s short and blunt, and before I can say anything else, Drew has walked out of the room and turned the light off.

Lying alone in the dark, I can’t even stare at the ceiling and overthink our conversation to know where I went wrong, because I can’t see.

So that’s it?

No more jibes or sarcastic comments? I haven’t gone to the bathroom since I got here. Onion spice still marinates in my mouth, and I can’t see where my crutches are, but now I’m expected to go to sleep?

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Chapter 4

Bella

With my eyes closed, I can feel the warmth of light streaming into the room. Dry and gritty, my lids scrape across my eyes because I hardly got any sleep last night. Not only was my casted leg in an awkward position, but I shivered the whole night because I refused to use Drew’s sheets.

Don’t get me wrong. I tried. Oh, did I try to sleep in them, but I just couldn’t keep them on.

They smelled too much like him, and I think it penetrated my brain because I started to see and feel him doing things in my dreams that if I admitted them out loud, some people might think I have a crush, and crossing that fine line between love and hate wasn’t going to happen between us. It couldn’t. Not that I wanted it to.

I kicked off his sheets around midnight because there was no way that I was going to be fantas-, I mean dreaming about Drew while desperately needing to pee. Oh, did I forget to mention that I really needed to pee for most of the night? Still do, but I’ve been too afraid to get up and walk over to the bathroom since there’s a very real possibility that I could fall over again and pee my pants. I need Drew’s help, but asking him for it is causing me more anxiety than I can handle.

My feet twitch, and my body wants to stretch, but I don’t move because Drew got up about thirty minutes ago, and when he came to check on me, I pretended to be asleep. An awkward move, I know, but honestly, I didn’t want my morning burrito breath to be the first thing he smelled this morning.

Note to self: make sure the crutches are within reach at all times from now on…And figure out where the bathroom is.

The smell of bacon and eggs drifts into the room, and my stomach growls loud enough for people in Minnesota to hear.

“I know you’re up.” His deep tenor fills the room, and my toes stop dancing. My jaw tenses, and I hold my eyes shut, because I wasn’t expecting him to talk, let alone call me out. “I can hear your discontented breathing.”

Snapping my eyes open, I pop up to find Drew wearing a tight black shirt with an apron that says, ‘Kiss The Cook’ across it. My mouth dries, and I try to gulp down any ounce of spit I have left because….Drew’s biceps. That’s all I need to say. Bulging and corded, I have the urge to squeeze them to see if they’re real. Thank God I’m too far away to do it.

Pushing my rogue thoughts aside, I narrow my eyes. “What are you talking about? That’s my normal breathing.”

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