Page 67 of Matched By My Rival
Simon had bought me dinner, as promised. Or maybe as threatened? He’d teased that I’d need the calories before morning. But in truth, we’d both stuffed ourselves and reclined on the bed with the TV on. At first, it had felt a little awkward. Without the sex driving us, we were a little out of our comfort zone. But then I’d trained my eyes on the TV and ordered Simon to pretend we were having one of our late-night texting sessions.
I asked him about his weekend. He made a tacky joke about his first time having butt sex. I made a tackier joke aboutmyfirst time. Then he’d turned to me and asked, in all seriousness, why I’d never done it before.
I didn’t have a good answer for that. Only an honest one.
“I’ve never really had someone I wanted that way. My hookups are infrequent, and they usually don’t involve night-long hotel stays…”
“You saying I’m special?”
His tone had been light, but there’d been a slight edge to his voice. I hadn’t been sure if it was because he wanted to be special, or because he feared it. I’d played it safe.
“You must be special if you’re getting my ass.”
“No doubt about that.”
Our eyes held a beat before he turned his gaze back to the television. “I never got the appeal of action movies like this. Are our lives so boring that car explosions do it for us?”
“Uh, yeah.” I nudged him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t rescue little kids and kick bad guys’ asses on the regular.”
He smirked. “Maybe we need to toughen you up.”
“Pretty sure I’m tough enough if I can handle the linebackers slamming into me on the field.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I froze. I hadn’t meant that the way it had sounded. Simon’s body hadn’t held up under those conditions, but I’d never intentionally imply he wasn’t tough. In many ways, he was tougher than me.
“Guess that’s true,” he said blandly. Too blandly.
“Shit. I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, I wasn’t relating it to you—”
“It’s fine. Not like it isn’t true.”
“Simon, really.” I turned to him, grasping his arm. “I hate how shit went down with you. You were the best wide receiver Hayworth had since Baskins.”
He snorted. “Bullshit.”
“I know Baskins was drafted, but I’m serious.”
He shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on me. “You really do mean that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“But it’s not true, Parker.You’rethe best receiver in the last decade. Not me.”
“I don’t work even half as hard…”
“That’s what makes you so amazing. You’ve just got talent oozing out of you. I never would have made the draft. We both know it.”
“You had this intensity on the field that was incredible though. I always envied the way you put everything you had into every play. You were an incredibly smart player, Simon.”
His lips quirked. “Maybe, but that’s all over for me.”
My heart ached at the echoes of grief in his expression. Simon had lost so much. He’d covered it with hostility and resentment initially, but I always knew how much football meant to him. Even if he hadn’t expected to be drafted. Even if this year would have been his last. It was such a shame it ended the way it did. That he couldn’t go out on a high note, with positive connections with the coaching staff and memories to carry him through the transition to a future without ball.
“I wish I could change it,” I said softly.
“You can’t.” He squeezed the hand I’d put on his leg. “That’s okay. I’m dealing. And like I said before, I know none of it is your fault. It’s a competitive, brutal sport. My body couldn’t take it. And even if it could, you’re just better. I used to hate that about you.”
“And now?”
