Page 32 of Resisting the Running Back

I adjust the pillow behind me and lean against the headboard the way he is, and he settles his knee against my thigh once I’m comfortable.

“I wanted to plan out more of the curriculum for each day, and I liked your idea of doing a small chunk of information for a variety of topics each day,” he says, his tone excited and enthusiastic. “If we do a weeklong camp, let’s say we get eight to ten hours a day of instruction, plus up to a few hours forscrimmage or technique or whatever. We could be up and at ’em bright and early for workouts, do classroom stuff a bit, drills, break for lunch, more classroom, more drills, break for dinner, review film, bed.”

“Is that sort of like training camp?” I ask.

He nods. He opens a note on his phone, and I can’t read it, so I scoot closer to take a look at it. I’m so close I’m practically leaning on his shoulder, and his clean scent wafts to my nose, causing a pulsing, searing ache to land squarely between my legs.

Were his shoulders always this broad? I glance down beyond his phone at his thigh. Holy hell…were hisquadsalways that thick? He’s got this, like, massive quadzilla thing going on that’s leaving me a little breathless. Those thighs are powerful and sexy and probably useful for more than just football games.

Oh God, Sophie. Get control of yourself.

It’s just Miller. It’s just my best friend. Why does the way he smells suddenly make me want to get naked right here in this bed beside him?

And the passion with which he speaks as he talks about this camp he’s putting together…

It’s hot.

Really hot.

And those quads.

God, this is getting confusing.

Really confusing.

And I don’t even have anybody to talk to about any of it sinceheis the one I’d normally turn to.

CHAPTER 14: Miller Banks

Nothing Can Heal

Is there something between us, or am I completely off my rocker?

Either option is viable, if I’m being honest. She has always leaned her head on my shoulder. We’ve always been close enough that I could rest my leg against hers, and she wouldn’t immediately move hers. It’s easy. It’s comfortable.

Three kisses have thrown the equation a little off kilter for me, though.

Or a lot.

Feeling her melt into me the way she did back at the apartment is something I won’t soon forget.

She goes to her bed after we discuss the camp a little longer. We sleep in separate beds, the way it was always intended to be, but it feels somehow wrong.

I toss and turn all night—the exact opposite of what happened the last time we stayed at this hotel when I woke up with her in my arms and slept better than I had in a long time.

In the morning, we meet my parents at a breakfast diner before we head out of town.

It’s nice to see my parents. It’s low pressure despite the feelings that have coursed through me for ages, feelings really only my brother knows about—and even he doesn’t really understand the depth and complexity of them.

I’m not entirely sure I understand it, either. All I know is that it’s getting stronger. Somehow.

We have this shared history that bonds us together. We spend half our drive home talking about people I haven’t thought about in years. When we’re not chatting, we’re singing, and when we’re not singing, we’re reminiscing or sharing inside jokes. No matter what the topic is, though, I know one thing for sure.

Everything feels so much lighter with her here with me.

When “Photograph” by Ed Sheeran comes on her playlist, we crack up about how she misheard the opening lyrics of the second verse in the song when it first came out and thought it was, “Nothing can heal.” She belted out those words with such confidence at the time that even now, we both still sing it that way.

It’s these little things that make the drive back to San Diego pass in a flash, and soon we’re pulling into the rental car return even though I wish the trip could last a little longer. I spot Tanner’s fiancée’s SUV in the parking lot. They’re here waiting for us, and they offered to take us out to dinner before they drive us home.

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