Page 67 of A Play For The Heart
“Henry,” Sawyer's mom, Heather, coos. “You look so handsome.”
I instantly blush at the compliment. She tells me I look good every time I see her, and every time, the compliment always forces a scarlet hue to my cheeks. She shoots me a cheeky grin, suggesting she knows exactly what she’s doing, and swings her attention back to her daughter.
“We just called to say hello, Hun. See how you’re doing.”
“Good. Henry has a playoff game this weekend,” Sawyer says, sounding proud.
With that statement, Sawyer's dad, Jim, jumps onto the screen. He wears the same goofy grin every time I see him.
“That’s right. We’re so proud of you, Henry.”
Heather nods her head in agreement, the pride in their voices evident. Surprise courses through me. Compared to the phone call with my parents earlier, this is one-eighty. I know my mom is proud of me, but she isn’t the best at expressing it. My father, on the other hand, I’m not sure anything I do will live up to his expectations. The fact that Sawyer’s parents are vocally proud of me stabs me directly in the chest.
Sawyer spends time regaling her week with her parents, and I add to the conversation when her parents ask me a question. Her mom chides her for not calling more, which she promptly blames on me. I only laugh at her shenanigans, kissing the top of her head. Her mom shrieks at the action and Sawyer looks up at me in amusement and incredulity. I just gave her mom another reason to cry, not that she really needed it. Throughout the call, my mind keeps returning to the fact that they’re proud of me. Eventually, Sawyer begins to wrap up the phone call. A couple of goodbyes and a few more tears—from Heather—later, Sawyer hangs up the phone.
In silence, Sawyer and I get ready for bed. Brushing our teeth. Getting dressed in pajamas. I shamelessly watch her as she puts on her cute pink shorts and matching top. I am a weak man. The acts themselves are so mundane, but the love coursing through me is powerful. I bite my tongue as we shuffle around her room so I don't accidentally drop the love bomb on her. I track Sawyer around the room as she continues her nighttime routine. She puts some goop-like thing on her lips then shuffles under the covers, saddling up next to me. Wrapping an arm around her, I drag her against me.
She begins to slowly trail her hand up and down my stomach while her head lays on my chest. Her nails lightly scratch against my skin, the sensation soothing and thrilling at the same time. Since we’ve officially started dating, there’s another side of her that I hadn’t experienced before. A touchy one. My girl is definitely a fan of physical touch. If it were up to me, I would keep her by my side every hour of the day just so she could play with my hair. It feels incredible, the way she pulls the strands and scratches my scalp, and I would consider selling my soul to make sure I can have it forever.
“Anything you need to tell me?” she asks, too casually to be considered normal.
I tense up, panicked. I rack my brain, searching for anything that I should have told Sawyer. I can’t think of a single thing. I update her about the most mundane things every day. What I ate for breakfast. The color of the socks I’m wearing. I do whatever I can to have an excuse to talk to her, which means she knows everything. Clearly, there’s something I didn’t tell her, though, because you don’t ask a question like that if you don’t already know the answer.
“Um…I don’t think so.”
At this point, I’m hoping she just fills me in on what I should have told her so I can apologize and we can move on to more exciting, sexy things.
“Why didn’t you say anything about getting tickets for Micah and his dad?”
A shuddered breath escapes me. With everything happening with Sawyer and the pressure of playoffs looming, I had forgotten that I invited Micah and his dad to the game. After meeting Micah at GameChangers, I had wanted to get him his own jersey. I figured the tickets would be a nice addition, so he and his dad could spend time together. I remember how it felt to go to a game with my dad as a kid and I wanted Micah to experience the same excitement. Honestly, I didn’t want anyone to think I was doing it for publicity or charity, so I didn’t feel there was any need to say anything. Sawyer isn’t just anybody, though, and I probably should have told her.
“I didn’t want the spotlight and then I kinda forgot.”
“Well…it was nice,” she says, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my lips. Whatever goo was on her lips transfers to mine and the taste of strawberries lingers on our lips. My tongue darts out, savoring the taste.
Lifting her body, she swings her leg over my torso, straddling my hips. She slides right across my crotch, pulling a small groan from my lips. The sound lights a fire in her, and she repeats the motion. I knead her ass, pulling her closer to me, claiming her lips with mine. Forevermore, I will find the taste of strawberries erotic.
“If only there was a way I could show you how much I appreciate you,” she says, a slow grin spreading across her face as she continues to grind against me.
“I can think of a few.” I flip her beneath me, her giggles filling up the room.
CHAPTER 27
“I swear you could hear a hair pin drop, right when I felt the moment stop”
right where you left me—Taylor Swift
Sawyer
Theenergyinthestadium is electric. I can feel the hum of anticipation deep in my bones. The endless potential. Win-loss records from the regular season no longer matter. I’m glued to my seat, waiting for the players to run onto the field. Henry running at full speed really gets my motor running, and the last thing I’m going to do is miss it. Not even for cheesy, gooey nachos.
Similar to the last game, Henry got Maren, Nathalie, and my seats for the game. The only difference is this time, we’re in the family section. He had asked if we wanted to be in one of the family boxes, but all three of us chose to stay in the stands since we love the energy they have.
Nathalie showed up at our apartment to carpool earlier, looking like a mini version of Maren. Eye black covers her face and she rocks the jersey she bought at the game before. For someone who has very little football knowledge, she has gone all in. I had noticed something was different, but I chalked it up to the ensemble. Then, I realized she wasn’t wearing glasses. Nathalie looked good. Really good. Other people noticed in the stadium too. She was oblivious to it all, which was endearing.
When Maren came out of her room this morning, her wardrobe stunned me, but not for the usual reasons. I’ve become accustomed to the eye black but instead of some random jersey, she had bought Jack’s. I asked her why she would buy the jersey of her enemy; I truly had no idea what was going on in her mind. She simply stated that it was a way to get under his skin. I nearly choked and had to leave the room to prevent myself from bursting out in laughter.
It’s not the jab that she thinks it is, but I’m not going to tell her that. Maren thinks she just one-upped Jack, but she fell right into his trap. I immediately texted Henry, hoping he still had his phone. He lost his mind, and now we're both hoping Jack notices and says something. Watching the two of them argue has become a kind of reality TV show for Henry and me. You never know what you’re going to get, but no matter what, it's entertaining.
