Page 86 of The Wrong Quarterback

His blue eyes slowly opened, and he looked at me, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Hi,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, like a secret meant just for me.

“Hi,” I whispered back, a smile breaking free as my heart did its usual flip. I’d thought I’d been dreaming last night when I’d felt his arms around me, but he was here, his gaze soft.

What would it be like to wake up with him like this every morning?

It would probably be impossible to have a bad day.

“I missed you yesterday,” he said, his lips curling into a frown, like he really was devastated we hadn’t seen each other.

I hated that I actuallyhadbeen upset about it. Since that moment in the library, when he wasn’t at practice or other team related activities—he was with me. We had breakfast and lunch together. He brought me coffee. He walked me to and from class.

It was ridiculous to think that could be an everyday thing, but my pathetic self had soaked in his presence like a cracked desert getting its first rainfall.

I’d spent the entire day, glued to my phone, waiting for him to text.

But he never did.

I looked away, afraid he would see thepatheticin my eyes, but he gently tugged my chin back to him. His ocean blue gaze was filled with promises as I stared, and I wanted him to keep each one.

“Did you miss me, too?” he asked, and the desperation in his voice seeped into my veins.

“Yes,” I told him, my voice serious. While I’d been waiting for him to text yesterday, my thoughts had been filled with all the ways that I’d fucked up. I’d been doubting him, and he’d been doing things like kissing me on national television. And it wasn’t just that. It was the way he knew my favorite drink order, the fact that he’d memorized my schedule, how he held my hand every chance he could…and how he made me feel like he was aware of me every second—even when other people were around.

When I’d gone to bed last night, I’d been sure I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d been prepared to find him today, to tell him how I felt, even if he rejected me.

At some point yesterday, I’d realized that Parker wasn’t a loss I was willing to take. I at least needed to fight for him.

“I thought—I thought maybe I’d messed everything up,” I whispered, my voice embarrassingly emotional.

He pulled me closer, so every inch of me was pressed up against every inch of him. His dick was like a steel bar, digging into my stomach.

“Just ignore it, he can’t help himself,” he said, his voice still sleepy.

“There you go with calling it ‘he’ again.”

His grin was brilliant, the kind of smile that made you lose your breath, that made you desperate for a camera so you could capture it forever.

“You could never mess us up,” Parker said, his thumb stroking my cheek as he held my face. “I wouldn’t let you. You could run, and I would run after you; you could hide, and I would find you; you could go to the other side of the fucking planet…and I would spend my entire life trying to track you down.”

I blinked at him and let out a soft laugh, because of course he wasn’t serious. But Parker’s expression didn’t waver. His eyes were clear and steady, no hint that he was teasing, no smirk or grin tugging at his lips. He was looking at me like he’d never believed in anything, like he believed in what he’d just said.

He lifted a hand, gently brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his fingers lingering on my skin. His thumb traced a soft line across my cheek.

“Parker…” I began, but my voice faltered, because my brain was still fighting against the notion that after breaking up with the boy I’d thought I’d loved for most of my life…that I could stumble right into my soulmate.

And not just my soulmate, but someone who shined so brightly that it was hard to see anything else.

Parker watched me calmly, like he could see everything inside my head, and he was giving me the space to figure it all out, for me to understand what he actually felt.

“I—” he began, but I couldn’t let him say it. Because once he said it, I would be forced to say it back. And I couldn’t say it back yet…right?

So I cut off his words with a kiss. A kiss that I poured my soul into. A kiss where I said all the things I was too afraid to say out loud.

And I think he got it.

He didn’t try to speak any more. Instead, he kissed me back…desperately, making a low possessive sound as his grip tightened around me.

I couldn’t say I love you yet…but I could give him something else.

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