Page 133 of The Girlfriend Zone

“I know,” she says, then kisses my jaw so tenderly that I feel unsteady in an entirely good way.

I close my eyes. “I wanted to drive you home after the game,” I say on a wistful sigh.

We discussed that—if she’d waited for me after the game and we’d left together, it might look…too obvious. She leaves when she’s done taking post-game promo shots. She takes a Lyft—I installed my credit card on her app when I was gone in case she needed to take the dogs anywhere—and comes straight here.

Worst case, if anyone saw her? She could say she was letting the dogs out. Plausible enough.

But I hated driving home without her almost as much as I loved seeing her here. I can’t stand the thought of Sunday, when Mom and Harvey return from their cruise and collect the dogs. When she might leave.

Opening my eyes, I glance at the clock on the wall. It doesn’t tick out loud, but I swear I hear every second. Right now, though, I want to inhale as much of Leighton as I can get. So I bury my face in her neck and kiss her slow and tender, leaving imprints of my lips all over her.New tattoos on her skin. Marks I want her to always have. More kisses, more moments, more…her.

She sighs softly against me, her fingers twisting gently through my hair, lighter than how she usually touches me. Leighton’s fiery and tenacious, and she touches like that, too, most of the time—like a warrior goddess who knows how to fight. The same way she likes to fuck.

Right now, though, she’s soft, a summer breeze, a wisp of a kiss.

And when she sets her hands on my chest and gently pushes me away, I understand why—there’s something on her mind. Before I drown myself in her, she’s got something to say.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes full of insight. “I don’t think this is all about you wishing you could have driven me home after the game.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, dodging it because I really just want to touch her, to forget how awful I felt earlier. To lose my feelings in her.

She smiles, the kind that says she’ll allow my innocent question, but not for long. “I can sense your sadness. Your…guilt?”

I drag a hand down my face, then slump back into the couch. Of course she sees it. She’s one of the most astute people I know. She can read the room. She can read situations.

She can read…me.

“Is it what happened earlier? With my dad?” she prompts. “It wasn’t easy for me either, seeing him there, but I felt I needed to…” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to.

“Yes, but it’s also…” I begin, then push the back of my head against the couch, frustration digging into me. “It’s Tyler too. It’s the fact that I’m so fucking obvious. You’re so good at handling everything. Measured. You’ve got your shit together in front of everyone. Even me. And I’m supposed to be a team leader, yet every time I see you at work I act like the guy in high school trying to impress the girl.”

Her smile is amused, and she’s clearly delighted, but then it fades as she turns serious. “It’s hard for me too. I feel like I’m holding back.”

But does that mean we’re supposed to do something aboutthisyet? This thing between us? I’ve only been back in town for a few days. We’ve only been doing this—whatever this is—for a few days. No way can I pressure her to go all-in on a romance with me, even if I might think I’m ready.

Wait. Am I? I drift off for a beat. Is that actually what this heaviness in my chest is about? Not just the lying, but the growing awareness that maybe…just maybe…I know what I want.

I return to the here and now, my gaze traveling over the strong, centered, passionate, bold woman who’s somehow interested in me too.

And I know—I don’t want to give her up, no matter what.

It’s a privilege—like touching her—to know your heart’s desire. To know the cost.

I think I’d pay that price.

I’m almost certain I’m ready. Ready to face Coach’s ire. Ready to handle whatever comes my way. Ready to face the fallout. Because the way I felt when I walked in the door moments ago? It was like the sun rising, illuminating the truth of the past year or so.

With Leighton, I feel like I can slow down. Enjoy thepresent. Savor every second without thinking constantly about moving forward. I can just…be. But it’s more than that—I can be happy, and holy hell am I ever happy with her. Every time I’m with her, I don’t want the moments to end, and that feeling’s intensified since I met her. I’ve been falling for her for more than a year. And even when we tried to stay away, I fell more. Even when we tried to be friends, I fell deeper. I look at her, this woman who makes me believe I can handle anything, and I know she needs to hear the truth—even the parts I’m not proud of. “I need to tell you something—when I was with Joanne, she asked me to be more vulnerable, and I said, and I was a dick about it, ‘My knee is sliced in half—how much more vulnerable do you want me to be?’”

Leighton’s expression is etched in sympathy. “You were hurting,” she says, exonerating me.

Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I don’t. But I need her to know I’ve changed.

“I’m not proud of that moment. I wouldn’t do that with you,” I say, my voice as raw as my heart feels. “I don’t want to do that with you.”

“Then don’t,” she says, her voice steady, certain.

She’s young and already so strong. She knows her worth. Knows what she wants. And maybe it is me. “I won’t do that,” I say, in a bare promise of who I want to be with her.

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