Page 13 of Bingeworthy
“Really?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I will if you will.”
Chapter Six
“Tiff! It’s not tackle football!” Jill calls out.
I know that.
And I didn’t intentionally tackle Rocco.
Rocco had reached for the ball and was about to catch it, and I leapt forward to snatch it away.
Only, I stumbled, and we both ended up on the ground. With me on top of Rocco.
“If you want to straddle me, we should go somewhere private,” he says for only me to hear.
My jaw drops. He winks.
I fly off of him faster than if he’d been a snake that bit me. And then I fake a limp.
“Ow, ow, ow,” I wince, hobbling to the sideline.
“What’s wrong, Tiff?” Jen asks.
“Nothing! I’m fine.”
“Go rub it out, honey,” Mom shouts across the field.
Rocco pops up and follows me to the sideline, chuckling about my mother’s choice of words.
Ugh. Phrasing, Mother. Phrasing.
I want to get away from this game and go and hide somewhere, but Rocco is right on my heels. I limp toward the fire pit, away from the view of the field of play.
Rocco lights the gas fire and plants himself in an Adirondack chair next to me. He pats his knee. “Let’s take a look at that foot.”
“It’s fine.”
“Tiffany,” he warns, and I do as I’m told.
Rocco carefully removes my shoe and rolls my sock down. His rough fingers brush over my bare ankle. Heat pulses between my legs, and my mouth dries up.
“Wiggle your toes,” he says.
I do, and I start to feel self-conscious about how my foot might smell.
He rotates my foot, testing my perfectly intact ankle. “We should go put some ice on it, to be safe.”
I can’t keep this lie going any longer. “I faked it.”
Rocco blinks. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to listen to any teasing about how I landed on top of you after that tackle.”
He grimaces. “Sorry for teasing.”
“Not you!” I exclaim, shaking my head. “My sister. Everybody. My pushy parents. I feel like everyone is watching and…”
