Page 9 of Nash

I can't help but think about Reese, not only because Wolfe brought up the video I saw this morning, but because of how we left things. I’m seriously hoping she feels okay today, but a slight hangover is inevitable. I just hope she isn't sick.

And yeah, I may have watched the video a few times, my smile growing bigger each time.

And no, it's not because of what Lawson thinks, that I love watching myself, but it’s the edit she made.

She made me look like a hero when I was just helping a friend out.

I can’t help but wonder if that's how Reese sees me or if that's just how she wants the world to see me, but either way I’m intrigued as hell.

Not to mention her kiss haunted my dreams in the best way last night. Really digging under my skin in a way that even a cold-ass shower hadn't helped. There’s something about thewayshe kissed me, all passion and bite and heat and snark.

The way her curves felt underneath my fingers for those few blissful seconds that she let me touch her. And there was something about the softer way she spoke to me the more the night went on.

I liked both sides of her, and I wondered what other sides she had tucked away waiting to be uncovered.

I turn off the shower and get dry, throwing on a pair of sweats and a long sleeve shirt, leaving my hair wet as I grab my gear bag and head out of the locker room.

Reese fills my vision the second I step into the hallway, looking cute as hell pacing with a concentrated look on her face.

“I was just thinking about you,” I say.

“You were?” She closes her eyes then shakes her head. “Never mind. Can we talk?” Her eyes flit to the stream of players coming out of the locker room behind me, then back to me.

Shit, she looks anxious as hell.

“Sure,” I say, nodding across the hall where the weight room is.

There’s no one on the Badgers team who's interested in extending today's workout, except of course for our captain Clay Kiplin because the guy is a fucking machine and lovespunishment. I meandamn, even Baylor is taking the rest of the day off, and he practically lives in the gym.

Reese eyes Clay where he sits on the weight bench, doing some sitting curls with a pair of headphones on.

“Don't worry about him,” I say, drawing her attention. “He's probably blaring Taylor Swift or something, he won't be able to hear us.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, keeping her voice lowered.

“Yeah. Watch.” I look over to Clay who’s across the room, focusing on his reps.

“Kiplin, I heard you spend every Friday night knitting with a bunch of senior citizens in a sewing group. How’s that going?”

Kiplin's perma-scowl is still etched on his face, his eyes focused as he doesn’t miss a beat of his workout.

Reese laughs, and I turn to her with a prideful smile on my face, the sound of her laughter making my chest swell.

“Okay then,” she says the laughter melting right off of her face. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

I set down my gear bag. “For what?”

Her gaze widens. “Ohmigosh, have you not seen the video?”

“Of course, I've seen the video,” I say. “What does that have to do with you apologizing?”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times before she finally gets any words out. I have to say it's cute as hell.

“I did an edit of you from last night,” she says. “I put you in a spotlight unintentionally—one where the entire world seems to think that I'myourgirl.”

I shrug. “I called you my girl. It's not like they jumped to that assumption under false pretenses.”

“You’re so chill about this,” she says. “I had no idea. I thought you’d be super upset. All those comments about the bad boy bachelor Nash Stokehill finally meeting his match.” She uses air quotes around her last sentence.

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