Page 17 of Play It Off

“You don’t have a lot of furniture,” she observes.

“It’s enough.” I shrug. There’s a couch and a coffee table and an end table with a lamp on it. A big-screen TV hangs on the wall, with a gaming console on the floor, the controllers sitting neatly on top of it and the cords wrapped around them. I don’t have a dining table, even though there’s space for it, but I do have a couple of barstools tucked under the kitchen counter.

“One bedroom or two?” she asks as she glances toward the hallway.

“One. I don’t need two.” She looks back at me. “You can go check out my bedroom if you want.”

Her curiosity is practically vibrating off her body, and I’ve got nothing to hide.

Sienna doesn’t even hesitate—she heads for my bedroom, then pushes the door open and peeks inside before she fully enters the room. I give her a moment, let her look her fill, and then I walk in, looming behind her as she examines the giant poster on the wall that hangs above my dresser.

It’s a photo of the three of us—me, Nico, and Coop—after our team won the national championship our sophomore year. It was an epic season, an epic moment, and the campus store actually sold this poster at the beginning of our junior year. I bought one immediately and had it framed.

“This is a great photo,” she murmurs as she studies it.

“It’s my favorite. I’m grateful the photographer captured the moment.”

“You all look so happy.”

“We were.”

“Especially you.” She aims that potent smile straight at me, and I feel it all the way down to my soul. “I don’t think you’ve ever looked this happy.”

“Oh yeah?” I stand next to her and examine the photo closely, trying to see what she sees. I do look happy. That was the most triumphant I’d ever felt. Like I hit the pinnacle of my college football career, and I was only a sophomore. I haven’t felt that high since. “There are no posters of us this year.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over the loss, Gavin. You’ll get it this year.” Her voice is confident, and I wish I felt as positive as she sounds.

“You think so?” The doubt creeps in, which is rare. I’m a confident person. In my position, I have to be. I’ve been at this long enough that I believe in myself and my abilities. I am a solid quarterback who is only made better by the team that surrounds me. Together, we feel unstoppable.

But last year a couple of our key players were taken out during the season with major injuries that required lots of recovery time. The other teams got serious and studied our film, figuring out what we were doing. And just like that, we were taken down a peg or ten.

Outwardly I chalked it up to bad luck, but deep inside, I was devastated. Humiliated. I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide for the rest of the school year, but my friends and teammates wouldn’t let me, especially Coop.

“My brother thinks you’re going all the way this season, and when he says stuff like that, I tend to believe him.” She glances up at me at the same time I look down at her. She’s tall, but I’ve still got her beat. “You’ve got this.”

“From your lips to the football gods’ ears,” I joke, realizing my mistake when I say the wordlipsout loud. It’s all I can do. Stare at them. Her lips.

They’re the perfect shape, her upper lip as full as the bottom, and this close to her, I can see she has an actual freckle on her bottom lip. That’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, but I know if I bring it up, she’ll get defensive because her freckles seem to be her greatest insecurity.

“I should probably go.” Her voice breaks the spell, and she takes a step back, creating some distance between us, but I take a step closer, addicted to her scent. The warmth emanating from her body. She goes completely still, lifting her head to meet my gaze, and I realize we’re closer than I thought.

Running on pure instinct, I reach for her, and she doesn’t flinch or push me away. She lets me touch her cheek. Streak my fingers along her soft skin as I shift even closer, our chests brushing. I slip my other arm around her waist, tugging her into me, and again, she doesn’t protest or struggle to get out of my hold. I’d stop if she asked me to.

But I don’t stop. And she doesn’t ask me to.

Dipping my head, I brush my mouth against hers. Her lips are soft and plump and perfect, and when I kiss her again, I hear her sigh. I shouldn’t do this. Coop would kill me. I’m not ready for a relationship, and Sienna is a relationship-type woman. It’s what she deserves, and trust me when I say this woman deserves the entire world.

Am I the one who can give it to her? Doubtful. I’ve been on this planet for nearly twenty-three years, and I haven’t figured out how to be selfless yet. At least when it comes to a woman.

I tip my head to the side, eager to deepen the kiss, when I feel her hands rest on my chest and gently push me away. I stumble backward,my eyes flying open to find her watching me with such a sad expression on her face, my heart actually hurts.

“Sienna ... ,” I start, but I don’t know what else to say.

She slowly shakes her head, and I know I’ve disappointed her. Typical.

“I should go,” she murmurs. I hear a stomach growl, and at first, I think it’s mine, but then I realize from Sienna’s suddenly pink cheeks that it must’ve been hers. “Apparently I need lunch.”

I’m tempted to offer to take her somewhere, but I don’t. She’d probably tell me no, anyway. I never should’ve kissed her, though I can’t deny that I don’t regret it.

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