Page 56 of A Quarterback for Christmas

“Bella?” Drew whisper-shouts as he knocks on the door. I move out of the way, and before he’s fully in the room, I’m on the attack.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” I hiss, poking him in the stomach with one of my crutches.

Drew grabs my crutch, gently pushing it away. “Don’t get angry at me. I only found out a couple of hours ago when he called me. You would have known yesterday if you had bothered to check your phone.” He shook his head, glaring at me. “What college student doesn’t check their phone every ten minutes? How did you go a full twenty-four hours?”

“You seem to be forgetting your dick was down my throat for a lot of that time,” I reply with a little bite as I look down his body. He’s in a raggedy, white shirt with navy sweatpants thatlook older than him, but I’d still do him. “Why didn’t you tell me when he called you? What if he found me in your bed naked?”

He scratches the back of his neck, and this sexy grin creeps over his features before he shrugs. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “You looked cute snoring in my bed.”

I throw my head back and grunt in annoyance. “You can’t be serious? This is my father we’re talking about here. You didn’t think a heads up would have been warranted? Now I’m going to have to go home with him.”

“Yeah, about that. I - “

Another knock cuts off Drew’s words, and my dad pokes his head through before being invited in. Oh, God. How loud were we? Could he hear us?

“You guys nearly done in here? Looks like a lot of places are opening back up. I thought we could go to that pizzeria you like for dinner, Belly.”

I shrug, laser-focused on my dad, because I know if I look at Drew, I’ll give the game away. “Sounds good.” But it doesn’t sound good at all. I want to talk with Drew, but that’s not going to happen. Not with my dad here.

The same issue again. My father has drained all of the water out of our little snow globe. There’s nothing left in there except fake snow and cracked glass.

Broken and artificial.

It’s rendered useless now, and should be thrown out, along with the memories.

“I’ve nearly finished packing.” I point to the suitcase I’ve hardly touched since I was practically living in Drew’s shorts the whole time.

My father’s eyes track the room, and prickles of sweat pepper my neck because I can tell he’s assessing the situation. I didn’t check the room for signs of sex before he came in.

My dad strolls to the bed and tosses the already unkempt bedsheet to the side. If he finds a condom wrapper, I will die. Literally, right here, on Drew’s floor. I will spontaneously combust with embarrassment. He raises a brow when he looks at me, and I swear I nearly pee my pants because this is it. He’s finally realized that I was doing more than just making Drew lasagna. How the hell am I supposed to explain what happened when I can’t even explain it to myself?

“Nice to see you’re just as messy at someone else’s place as home.”

I open my mouth to talk, but Drew clears his throat first. “Not entirely her fault. I told her she didn’t have to make the bed since she’s injured.”

My dad looks between us with pursed lips, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He looks at the floor and then back to me. “Alright. Do you need help packing the rest of your things, Belly?”

“I’ll help, Mr. Summers. You can go back and finish your coffee. You must be exhausted after the long drive.”

My dad holds his ground. “I’ll stay here, thanks. Belly hasn’t got much to finish.”

Okay. He definitely knows something’s up.

Drew grabs my hairbrush and bra from his desk, stuffing them in my suitcase. I assume because he wants to get this over with as much as me. Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize how awkward it looks.

I gulp, watching my dad’s reaction as Drew casually messes with my unmentionables. He gives me a raised brow, but doesn’t say anything.Fuck.

“I think that’s it,” Drew says as he zips up the suitcase. My dad takes the handle from him, rolling it away from Drew.

“Great. Thanks again for looking after my baby girl, Drew. I really do owe you one.” My dad high-fives Drew and pulls himin for a hug. I grumble because this bromance is getting old and more inconvenient by the day. “Do you want to come to lunch with us?”

I glare at Drew, hoping he can read my thoughts telepathically. We need to talk, but over food with my father is not when it’s going to happen. “I’d love to.” My heart rate spikes. “But I should probably stay here and clean up if Jacob’s coming back. Don’t want him coming home to an empty house.”

And just like that, it’s over. Drew’s drawn an invisible line in the sand. He’s not going to taunt me in front of my father, and I’m going to leave. There will be no excuse to meet Drew again. We’re done.

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