Page 64 of Only Between Us

I never planned on confessing that, seeing as I’m still wrestling with exactly what it means. Seeing as we’re supposed to be playing pretend for the masses and not wearing each other’s clothes in private.

But at that simpleyeah?, I picture Brooks’s hulking figure hunched over his phone. Captivated the same way he’d been in that bed as he listened to me talk. Undivided in his attention and looking inexplicably grateful for every word I gave him.

The memory makes my heart pinch.

I file that in the same drawer as my confession, to await examination at a later date.

Chapter21Siena

“My daddy says you’re dating the bird lady.”

I choke on my breath in the first row of the stands at the Huskies stadium, where I’ve been live-posting content as Brooks coaches a group of under-sevens through a series of practice drills that they execute with all the grace of baby giraffes.

Every so often, a kid will break away from the activity on the field to chat him up excitedly, including the three-foot-nothing boy now grilling Brooks on his apparent status as a bird-lady boyfriend.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. He’s seen your video from the Ravens game,” a man a few seats down the row tells me, cheeks flushed. “We’re still working on manners.”

“I’m still working on mine, too.” I wave off his apology. “Manners are overrated.”

On the sideline, the cute kid continues his interrogation. “It’s true? You’re dating Cece Pippen and the Seven Yards?”

“It’s true, my man.” Brooks crouches at eye level with the kid. “But she doesn’t like that nickname. Her name is Siena. Can you call her that?”

“But why? Everyone calls her Cece.”

“They do.” Brooks nods patiently. “But we should let people decide what they want to be called, right? Everyone should feel good about their name.”

The audacity.

Who the hell authorized this man to be so utterly charming?

He’s been tense in the couple of days since the online speculation about his health started, but Brooks has been nothing but soft and patient with these kids today, determined to show them a good time despite the threat to his career. I haven’t been the only one to admire it, either. The parents surrounding me have had their phones out all day, documenting as Brooks demonstrated drills and simple plays, some of them posting their videos online. Perfect for us, as we try to call off the dogs sniffing around for an injury.

A little girl appears at Brooks’s side. “Coach, does Cece play football, too?”

“We call her Siena,” the boy tells her, glancing at Brooks for his approval.

“That’s right, we do. But Siena doesn’t play football. It’s just me.”

Another girl appears. “Girls should play football. Should we teach her?”

Brooks finds me watching in the stands. I shake my head.

“Oh, I think we absolutely should teach her.” Brooks rises, beaming as every little face surrounding him turns pleading eyes in my direction.

That little jerk. I lift a leg, indicating my heels. “We have a problem.”

“Come on, Miss Siena!”

“Let Coach teach you how to throw!”

“Come on!”

Brooks’s lips have disappeared entirely into his mouth as he bites down on a laugh. There’s more of them now. A whole swarm of kids surrounding their coach. All calling me onto the field like the children of the corn, ushering me to my demise.

Or, at the very least, to my humiliation.

Brooks looks so utterly pleased with himself as I get to my feet. He comes to lift me over the barrier the same way he did at our first appearance here as a fake couple: arms around my waist, eyes squarely on me.

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