Page 45 of A Quarterback for Christmas

Surely he knows there’s no way I can sleep after such a monumental misstep. His hand rests on my thigh, and I do everything in my power to remain deathly still. I consider adding a snore to make it more believable, but then I chicken out. I’m a coward. Sure, I have all the bravado in the world when I think the cards are stacked in my favor, but the minute somethinggoes wrong or I don’t get what I want, I immediately stop myself and hide from confrontation.

Giving my leg the tiniest of squeezes, he sighs and mumbles something under his breath before walking away. When I hear his bedroom door shut, I let out the breath I was holding and sag into the couch. Drew is gone for the night, and all I’m left with is embarrassment and slightly wet panties.

Chapter 12

Drew

The air is cold, and my muscles immediately seize up as I open the door as wide as I can.

Operation ‘Stop thinking about Bella’ Take-Two must commence.

I glance over my shoulder and take one look at the reason that I’d rather die of hypothermia than spend another minute in the house.

Bella has flagrantly sprawled herself across my sofa again. Her broken leg is hitched on the back of the pillows, and her mouth is gaped open in what can only be described as a haughty display of dominance.

She’s taken over everything. My time off. My house. My mind. I can’t get away from her. Worse still, I don’t know if I want to.

Shaking my head, I wash away those thoughts and start to run. Okay, more like jog, through the thick snow, careful to avoid the black ice. I count my steps to keep my mind occupied and watch the air billowing in front of me with every breath I take.

She kissed me.

Or did I kiss her?

All I know is that it was unplanned and too steamy to resist. However, knowing Bella as well as I do, I know this will be another thing we won’t discuss. Just like when she watched mein the gym or when I saw her naked. Bella avoids any kind of confrontation, and apparently, I’m the biggest one of all.

Even the loud crunching of the snow can’t stop me from thinking about how her fingers curled around my neck or how soft and pliable her lips were. It was like all those high school dreams came back with a vengeance. I spent the better part of my senior year wondering what Bella Summers looked like naked, safe in the knowledge that I’d never find out.

But then the mistletoe happened, and she was straight up shoving her tongue down my throat. I was so shocked by the move I froze. It felt like I was my thirteen-year-old self again, kissing for the first time, and I didn’t know where to put my hands, let alone how to make it good for her. When I could finally engage my brain, Bella had already pushed me off her, looking at me like I’d killed her cat, and then stumbled away like a frightened deer.

Did she want it? Or was that all an act?

The girl is harder to read than a Dr. Seuss book, and I’m dyslexic.

I keep reminding myself that she was the one who pushed and pushed and pushed until I finally gave in. She wanted it, even if she’s too embarrassed to admit it now. But this is something we can’t avoid talking about. That kiss was way too big to ignore.

With no scarf or hat, the cold air bites at my face. I can hardly feel my ears, and I think the hair on the back of my neck is freezing off. I couldn’t bring myself to open the closet for fear of waking up the beast in Bella. Girl can get nasty when she wants to, and I wasn’t about to be the person to wake her up out of that pretzel-like position.

How does Bella do it? How does she kiss someone like that and then act as though nothing happened? To sleep so obnoxiously, as though she wasn’t thinking about the kiss, is outrageous.

Did she think I was getting up at five a.m. every day for my health? That during my winter break, I’d want to train mindlessly until my brain was too tired to think before she woke up?

Bella is maddening. I knew something was off about her the first day I met her, but I assumed it was because she was delirious from the ball I threw at her head. It took me three years and a lot of snark to realize it wasn’t. Since then, I’ve spent years avoiding her crazy, and it’s been good, but now that it’s front and center in my house, I can’t take it.

She’s everywhere, taunting me like a Sonic cheeseburger on game day, only there’s no way to avoid her.

Snow sticks to my lashes, and I can see my house in the distance. Sighing, I clench my fists and shove them in the pockets of my letterman jacket. Another thing I should have picked up on my way out was an actual winter coat. Not this flimsy thing.

My fingers are turning blue, but I can only think about how Bella will still be in my house, sleeping as aggressively as she was when I left.

Marching to the house, I’m more determined than ever to speak to Bella. I will not let her brush me off or avoid this any longer. She kissed me. I liked it, and I’m pretty sure she liked it too. So, what now? That’s what she’s going to have to tell me.

All I need to do is sit on the couch, wake her up, and force her to listen. She’ll make some excuse about needing to brush the morning breath away, but bad breath be damned. I will not let her leave that couch until I’ve said my piece.

It will go something like this, ‘Bella, I’ve wanted to tell you somethi-’

My words are cut short when I hear the small mewls of what I think is an injured animal. I briskly walk to the noise and realize it’s not a dying fox but the little blonde terror that has beenoccupying my home for the last week and my mind for the last few years.

Bella has one hand in the air, waving at me like an overeagerDeal or No Dealgirl, trying to convince me to open her box. Wobbling on the spot, I immediately spur into action, running as fast and as carefully as possible to get to her. If she slips and gets another injury, I’ll never forgive myself. Neither will Coach.

---