Page 121 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

“You’re right. Showing up is half the battle.”

He nods, kissing the top of my head.

The simple gesture sends a wave of warmth through me, and I close my eyes.

Gio is such a contradiction. Outwardly, he’s everything you’d expect a big jock to be—confident, a little cocky, with a grin that could charm anyone in the room. But moments like this? They reveal something so much deeper.

He’s introspective. Polite, but nottoopolite.

Funny.

Considerate. Kind.

Handsome,obviously–but so much more.

Thoughtful in ways that constantly surprise me. Sensitive in a way that doesn’t feel forced or performative,but real.

It’s strange, because when I watched him on television, went to his games and followed him on social media, I thought I had him figured out: another athlete with a God complex, a guy who cared more about his stats and image than anything else.

Piece by piece, he’s shown me the parts of himself that don’t fit that narrative.

The way he talks about his sister and his teammates is with so much care and affection—and the effort he’s making to show me he’s interested in me as a person, and not just a casual bang…

Gio is the guy willing to admit when he’s scared, who wants to know what makes me tick—not just on the surface, but the things that make meme.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft in the dark. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“Not yet,” I whisper. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

I hesitate, wondering how much I should share.

“About you,” I admit. “How you’re not what I expected.”

“Gooddifferent or bad different?” he asks, his tone teasing but with curiosity.

“Good different,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks warm even though he can’t see me. “You’re more than what I expected.”

“More, huh?” I can hear him grinning. “I like the sound of that.”

I laugh, nudging him with my shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No promises,” he says, chuckling. “My head is already super big.”

I get the innuendo about his dick and ignore it.

“I noticed,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it.

“It must be exhausting carrying all that ego around.”

“It’s a burden,” he agrees, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “But someone’s gotta do it.” Gio pauses a beat. “On a scale of one to ten, how into me are you?”

Whoa. “Where did that question come from?”

“Just asking,” he says casually, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s science based.”

“Science based?” I repeat, laughing softly.

---