Page 86 of Hometown Touchdown
“Come on,” he says, voice lower now, gravel-laced. “You deserve a first dance.”
Chapter forty-four
Knox
IqueueuptheplaylistI spent all week curating, feeling only mildly ridiculous about how much time I spent making sure every song hit the right balance of nostalgia, swoon, and slow-dance-appropriate rhythm.
The first chords of “You and Me” by Lifehouse drift through the speakers, and Brynn raises an eyebrow at me like she knows exactly what I’m doing.
“Oh my God,” she says, laughing. “This song played at our prom. You hated it, said it was an oldie.”
“I didn’t hate it,” I say, offering my hand. “I just hated that it came on right after they turned the lights up and the chaperones started doing crowd control.”
She smirks but takes my hand anyway. “You mean after we got caught making out behind the gym?”
“I maintain it was a strategic use of darkness and poor adult supervision.”
I pull her in close, one arm sliding around her waist, and suddenly we’re swaying in the middle of my living room like it’s senior year again—but better. So much better. Because we’re not pretending anymore. We’re not fumbling through the what-ifs or trying to be grown-up versions of who we thought we should be.
We’re just…here. And she’s never felt more like mine.
“I like this,” she says softly, resting her cheek against my shoulder. “All of this. I think this version of homecoming might beat the original.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “You mean because there’s no cafeteria pizza and my tie actually matches?”
She lifts her head, eyes warm and amused. “Also, I’m wearing lingerie this time.”
That short-circuits my brain for a second. “Are you trying to end this dance early, baby girl?”
She just smiles sweetly. “What? I’m just stating facts.”
Before I can respond, there’s a soft rustle from the hallway, followed by the click-clack of paws on hardwood. Priscilla trots into the living room—wearing a sparkly pink tutu.
Brynn blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Knox! What the hell is she wearing?”
I wince, then start grinning because there’s no saving face. “Kinsey bought her a costume. Said every girl deserves to feel pretty on homecoming night.”
“Oh my God,” she says between giggles. “She looks like a tiny fairy princess with a grudge.”
“Be careful,” I warn. “She already has an inflated ego.”
Priscilla lets out a dramatic sigh and flops on the rug, clearly over it. Brynn crouches down and scratches behind her ears.
“I'll take it back,” she says. “This is the best homecoming I’ve ever had.”
I tug her hand gently. “Come on. Drink break. You earned it.”
We drift to the kitchen island, champagne glasses already waiting. She looks at the vase nearby.
“Peonies,” she says quietly as she takes a petal between two of her fingers.
“Didn’t think I forgot your favorite flower, did you?” I pull the bottle from the fridge and open it, the pop ringing through the room.
She steps closer. “You’re too sweet, Knox Dalton.”
“Nah, I’m just trying to impress my date.” Filling the glasses, I hand her one, and we clink without needing a toast. Just eyes. Just that look between us.
“You’re doing a supreme job of it.”
