Page 131 of Red Zone
I relax back in my seat, still grinning, and sip the last of my milkshake.
“So what did he actually want?” I ask once my laughter dies down.
Carter’s smirk fades into something softer as he looks out at the ocean, the moonlight making the sharp lines of his face look even more defined.
“He said NFL scouts are already asking about me. That teams have been calling him for film.”
That pulls me up short.
“Oh,” I say quietly, my chest tightening a little.
He glances at me, and there’s something almost shy in his expression.
“Didn’t really feel real until he said it,” he admits.
I watch him for a second, his jaw tight, his fingers flexing against his knee like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the weight of it all.
And it makes me feel…weirdly protective.
“Well,” I say softly, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Guess you better keep your head on straight then, huh?”
He glances down at me, his grin tugging back into place. “What, you don’t think I can handle the pressure?”
I tilt my head, giving him a mock-serious look. “Hmm…jury’s still out on that one.”
He laughs, shaking his head.
Then his smile fades a little, and he leans closer, his voice dropping low.
“But seriously, Lyla—this thing between us—is it what you want?”
I freeze for just a second, his words sinking in as his gaze searches mine.
Do I want this?
I swallow, my fingers twisting in my lap before I finally meet his eyes.
“I…” My voice comes out softer than I mean for it to. “I do. But we’ll have to keep it quiet. For now. Between your spot on the team and…and my internship…it’s just safer that way.”
He studies me for another long moment before he nods, leaning back again.
“Fine,” he says with a little shrug, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess I can play secret boyfriend for now. Sneaking around is kinda hot.”
I roll my eyes at the term, but my cheeks warm anyway.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Hayes,” I mutter, trying not to smile as I turn back toward the waves.
But I can still feel his gaze on me, steady and warm, like he already knows what I won’t say out loud yet.
By the time we pull back into my apartment complex, the milkshake cups are long empty and the radio is playing low in the background.
Carter cuts the engine but doesn’t move to get out.
Neither do I.
The lot is quiet at this hour—just a few scattered cars and the glow of the streetlight casting long shadows on the pavement.
I glance at him, but he’s leaning back in his seat, one hand draped over the wheel, the other resting lazily on his thigh.
