Page 60 of Playing for Keeps
“Well, I am. But regular seats. I want the full fan experience.”
He grins. “You got it.”
We fall silent, our gazes locked on each other for a moment until I finally pull my eyes away, glancing around.
“So where are you taking me?” I ask, needing the distraction.
“The field,” he says. “Come on.”
His hand is still wrapped around mine, even though there’s no crowd to impress anymore, and no cameras to pretend for. He leads me down the tunnel and into the locker room, grabbing a football with his free hand. Then we’re out on the field, and I can barely believe it.
“Whoa,” I breathe, taking it all in. Seeing it from the windows upstairs was one thing, butthis,standing in the middle of it... it’s massive. I do a slow spin, staring up at the endless tiers of seats. “Those ones way up there might as well be in another zip code.”
“Want me to get you a seat closer to the action?” he asks.
“Please. If I’m all the way back there,” I say, pointing upwards, “I won’t be able to see you.”
He laughs. “You doknow there’s a whole game going on, not just me, right?”
“But you’re the only player I know.”
“Not true. You know Ricky.”
I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”
“I’ll get you the best seats in the house,” he promises.
“Deal,” I say, snatching the ball from his hand. I hold it up like I’ve just won the Super Bowl. “Go long!”
“Go long?” he repeats, grinning. “I’m a linebacker, Ivy.”
I shrug. “It’s the only football term I know.”
He laughs warmly. “Clearly, I’ve got a lot to teach you, Ivy James.”
We spend the next half hour or so on the field, with Wyatt doing his best to explain the rules of football. I nod along, trying to keep up, but most of it goes right over my head. I’m hoping that once I actually watch a game on TV, it’ll start to click, because right now, it’s like he’s speaking another language.
“We should probably head back,” Wyatt says. “The car’s picking us up at seven for dinner.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
He doesn’t take my hand again as we make our way through the stadium and out to the parking lot, but he’s stopped a few more times along the way. Even with the clock ticking, he doesn’t rush anyone, signing shirts, smiling for photos, and talking to people. He’s genuine with everyone.
When we finally reach the truck, he opens the door for me and helps me up into the seat.
“I hope you’re planning to sign my jersey when we get back,” I tease when he slides into the driver’s seat. “It’s only fair.”
He laughs. “You’re starting to sound like a real football fan, Ivy. I’m impressed.”
“Glad to hear it,” I shoot back, smiling. The banter between us comes so naturally, like it always has, but lately, it feels like there’s something more beneath it.
It’s easy with Wyatt. Easier than it’s ever been with any guy, not that there’s been more than one or two to compare to. But maybe that’s what’s starting to mess with my head, because the way I’m beginning to see him? It’s different now. And that terrifies me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Wyatt
Ipace the living room, dressed for dinner. There’s half an hour before the car’s due to pick us up, so I’m not expecting Ivy to be ready yet. Despite that, I can’t seem to sit still. I’m overthinking everything about tonight.
