Page 57 of Presley's Christmas Catch
“Something you need to take care of?” Presley asks.
“Nah. Ready?” I mean that on so many levels. My reaction to her kiss could have scared her away completely. She might already be over me, although I don’t think that’s the case. She’s sitting here, snuggling me … sure, you could argue this is a friend thing, but we’ve blurred the lines since Tuesday, and she knows it. But sticking with the plan for the night of the Christmas party is a good idea, just in case.
She nods at me, and I turn my attention to the book. By the time I get to the way Lyra and Kael run to each other, and how Lyra sobs into Kael’s chest at seeing him alive and whole, tears are dripping down Presley’s face. When she catches me glancing at her, she buries her face against my side.
“Pres,” I say softly. “Gideon is good at this. No wonder he’s a best-selling romance author.”
She waves a hand around but doesn’t pull her face from my side. “Keep reading.”
I hold back my smile and tighten my arm around her. I putmy lips into her hair, take the briefest of inhales of the herbal scent, and kiss her quickly. If snuggling the way we are is blurring the lines, that was definitely a step over them. I can’t gauge any reaction from Presley except that she might have stopped breathing.
That could be about her crying over the book. I turn my attention to the book, continuing with the scene, and a few pages later, after Lyra and Kael thoroughly kiss and then sit down to plan how they will sneak into the Palace of Azrion, Presley pulls her face from my side and sits up.
“You know what she means by ‘I’ll take care of the portal,’ right?” I say, laying the book face down on the arm to take a few sips of the water bottle I set at the foot of the couch.
Presley points a finger at me. “No, Brock. It’s not because she’s the Obsidian Queen. It means she has a spell to get them through.”
I put a hand up in fake surrender. “Whatever you say.”
She huffs and pushes on my side. “She is not the Obsidian Queen.” I only smile in response.
She takes the book back, and we read for another hour before we reluctantly stop since we both have to work in the morning. My day will be more chill than hers, with some meetings and then checking into a local hotel later. Even though it’s a home game, the team stays in a hotel the night before to keep us focused and make sure we get the rest we need, along with it being a good way for the team to bond. All my friends’ wives complain about not being able to come. Now I understand, considering I’d much rather be hanging out with Presley tomorrow night.
“I probably won’t have a chance to talk to you until Monday, huh?” she says as she moves toward the door. I follow to make sure I get a goodbye hug.
Monday is the night of the Christmas party, so thankfully I don’t have to do this much longer. “Meeting at your house at six.”
“On the nose.” She bobs her head at me as she reaches for the door handle. We’re sliding quickly into awkward and that’s the last thing I want. I reach over and pull her into a hug, fighting back every other temptation—like holding her for longer than a few seconds or tilting her chin back and pressing my lips to hers. Tuesday we were so effortlessly touchy that it’s like I want to slide right past the new parts of a relationship where you question everything into a place where we’re a couple who kisses goodnight. I guess that’s what being friends first will do. I think of the way Lincoln swore it was the best way to go.
The night I met Presley, I was so drawn to her. Was it the necklace? Was it the way she smiled at me the first time I met her gaze? Did I start falling for her even then? I missed what’s right in front of me because I focused so much on the little details. Details are my business on the field—what it means when a guy is lined up wrong, how the twitch of another lineman’s arm can cue me in to where he might be moving. But I was so caught up in how I was supposed to feel about Presley on that detailed level—what a spark between us would feel like, if there was warmth where she touched me, how my stomach reacts to being near her—I missed the overall rightness of her in my life. The joy she brought. The craving of needing to be around her.
“Brock,” she whispers. She’s tilted her head away from me. Yeah, this hug has lasted way too long for just friends. Definitely too long for two people who are supposed to be focusing onjust being friends.
I meet her eyes. She tilts her head slightly in a challenging way. She knows how I feel. Has she been waiting for me to see it, like the guys?
“I’ll see you Monday,” I say, not letting her go.
She arches an eyebrow at me. “I’ll see you Monday.”
I lean over and kiss her forehead. She knows, and she deserves the magic of me admitting I was wrong.I told you so.
Monday.
CHAPTER 25
PRESLEY
Everything has changed.
After Brock left my apartment Thursday night, the way he acted was all I could think about. Tuesday was one thing. We had a weird day, and he could have made excuses about how he treated me. He didn’t, and it was like he took things up a notch.
And then Friday night? There was no more pretending we’re just friends. No more watching everything he says and does. No more worry about leading me on.
He kissed my forehead.
He’s done everything but tell me that he has feelings for me. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I suspect the Former Best Friends Club has something to do with it, mostly because Eli, Lincoln, and Hurley, who’s an honorary member because of his relationship with the other two, kept giving me knowing expressions every time they crossed my path at the game on Sunday.
Well those mischievous meddlers might have something up their sleeve, but tonight is my big play.
