Page 63 of Chess Not Checkers
Relief washes over his features. Another knock sounds through the door.
“I’ll be quick,” he says before jumping up and walking to a door beside the couch. He opens it and gestures inside. “This is mine.”
I get up and walk inside, giving him one last confused look before he shuts the door behind me. I hear a loud “Hey!” but the rest is muffled, and I decide if I’m going to be forced to hide in here, then I might as well snoop a little. My previous elation from our kiss begins to die down as a thought occurs to me. Is Shepherd hiding me? He’s given me no reason to think he’d want to do that, but maybe I misread things.
I look around his room, noting the messy navy-blue bedding piled up at the foot of his mahogany bedframe. There’s nothing on either of his nightstands except a lamp. The only other furniture in the room is a matching wood dresser, and this seems to be where the bulk of Shepherd’s decoration is.
There’s a picture frame of him along with Jason and Willow at their wedding reception. It’s a similar background to the one I remember seeing on Shepherd’s computer. There are a few small award plaques, and next to those in a bed of black velvet is his National Championship ring from last year. I rememberthat game. My family and I all went to support Bash. The entire stadium was so loud, it was shaking. At one point, I thought the whole thing would collapse. It was a great game, and I’m sure a core memory for Shepherd. My heart aches when I think of his loss from last night by comparison. Hopefully, he can move forward now, still loving and pursuing his passions, but not letting them dictate how he sees himself.
I’m happy to be there for him every step of the way. I look at the door as it opens. If he’s not about to break my heart, that is.
“I’m sorry,” Shepherd says. He scratches the back of his neck. “I should probably explain.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, that would be good.”
He walks over and grabs my hands. My stomach flip-flops. “I wanted to tell you before I kissed you, but I got so caught up in the moment.”
I brace myself for whatever he’s about to say, though I have no way of guessing what it could be.
“Bash made a rule at the beginning of the season that we weren’t allowed to date cheerleaders,” he blurts out, proving that I would have never guessed that.
I blink. “What?”
“He heard a few of the guys talking about the cheerleaders, and I think he wanted to protect you, so he made this rule that if we date a cheerleader, we’ll be benched.”
My eyebrows shoot up. That’s why some of the girls said the football team was avoiding them like the plague. Poor Emmaline thought she got ghosted when, in reality, the guy was fearing for his spot on the team.
“That’s awful!” I exclaim, letting go of Shepherd’s hands. “He can’t do that. It’s not fair.”
“No player is ever going to call him unfair. At the time, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I thought it would be good to not be so distracted.” I give him a sharp look, and he lifts his handsup in surrender. “I know betternow, but I didn’t then. Now, I don’t know what to do.”
“That’s why you asked me to hide,” I say slowly.
He nods. “I don’t want to put my spot on the team at risk after a loss that was my fault.”
I want to protest about it being his fault, but I know this isn’t the time. “So, what does that mean? Are you afraid to talk to him about it?”
Shepherd sighs. “I want to, but I want the time to be right. I don’t want him to be upset with me for not just breaking a rule, but breaking it with you.”
I think of how Bash got me my apartment. And how I was supposed to pay him back by being the best student and cheerleader possible. If he didn’t want me with one of his players…will he be upset? At the same time, he shouldn’t have any say in my dating life, even if he was trying to protect me.
I bite my lip. “What do we do?”
Shepherd draws in a fortifying breath. “Well, I had an idea…”
Chapter thirty-two
Yours, Mine
Shepherd Kingsley
“You want to keep our relationship a secret?” Jasmine asks, sounding about as skeptical as I feel about my plan. If it could even be classified as one, given that it’s made up of hopes and post kiss adrenaline.
We’ve moved back to my couch. Owen still hasn’t come back. I would text him, but his phone is on the coffee table. We’ll see when he’s brave enough to return after Jasmine’s display. I have to hold back a smile looking at her lounging on a stack of pillows, her legs draped over my lap. When she walked in I wouldn’t have thought we’d end up here, but I’m glad things turned out this way.
“Just until after the homecoming game,” I explain. “Everyone is going to be high stress coming off the loss. And while I know I don’thaveto win to have someone who cares about me”—I squeeze her ankle, earning a smile—“I want to do right by my team. Shaking them up right now wouldn’t be good.”
Jasmine toys with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “Do you think he’ll be mad?”
