Page 63 of Fair Catch
I hadn’t realized it, not until that very moment, how much anger and stress and pressure I’d been holding onto. Not even like I’d been drowning under the weight of it, but like I’d been clinging to it as if it were the lifeline keeping me afloat. It was like I had to be angry, to be focused, to have my guard up every second of every day — otherwise, I’d go under.
But tonight, I felt as if I were floating on the surface, the waves cradling me and taking me with the current.
And I wasn’t scared.
I was liberated.
Tonight, I wasn’t thinking about football. I wasn’t thinking about my form or training or the promise I’d made to my twin. I was just drinking and dancing and having fun with my friends.
I didn’t realize how much I needed that.
The beat shifted again, finding a steady, slower rhythm. Clay touched the top of my shoulder again and I smiled, knowing he was right there, knowing everything was fine.
The lights dimmed even more, beat building, and then I felt Clay’s hand again.
Only this time, it was lower.
He touched me softly at first, just a palm against the small of my back, but then that palm glided around to cup my waist, the other hand framing the opposite side.
My eyes shot open, and I gulped.
He has a girlfriend.
Dread sank into my stomach just as his hands gripped my hips hard, pulling me into him, and I internally groaned.
Why, Clay? Why’d you have to make it awkward?
I angled my head, wondering if I should tell him to back off or just laugh as I peeled his hands off me myself. He was just drunk. He didn’t mean to cross the line.
But before I could speak, I was met with a low voice rumbling against my neck.
“It’s kind of fun, you know.”
My eyes fluttered shut at the sound of Zeke’s voice, toes curling as his hands slid down just a fraction of an inch, fingertips playing with the skin exposed between my shirt and the band of my jeans.
He pulled me against him, my back flush with his chest, his hips moving in time with mine as he held onto me tightly.
“What’s that?” I managed, breath fleeting as Zeke’s warm lips traced the curve of my neck. I scanned the crowd to make sure no one on the team saw us. But it was too dark, and I couldn’t make any of them out other than a flash of a face now and then.
I relaxed.
Until Zeke whispered, “Exhibitionism.”
The word sounded so dirty, so seductive as it rolled off his tongue and collided against my damp skin. I reached behind me, finding his shirt and fisting my hands in it to hold him closer.
“It’s a sort of… rush,” he continued, his lips moving against my neck, voice a breath of heat in my ear. “Knowing you’re surrounded by people, that at any moment they could see you, catch you…” His fingers dipped below the band of my jeans, barely a centimeter, but enough to make my next breath lodge in my throat as he whispered, “Watch you.”
I wet my lips, letting my head fall back against his chest. I didn’t have words, not a single one. I just kept moving with him, reveling in the way it felt to have his hands on me.
“Do you trust me?” he whispered next, pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of my neck.
I swallowed, turning a bit in his arms so I could find his eyes in the darkness.
No.
That was what I should have said. It was what I felt down to the very core just days ago.
Or was it?
I’d loathed him.
Or had I?
I searched my innermost soul for that hatred I had for him, for all the reasons this was wrong. But everything was so far from my mind — Gavin, football, the accident…
My singular focus lived where Zeke’s hand slipped into mine, and he silently guided me through the crowd.
It was dark, save for the flash of lights that would illuminate us from time to time. I latched onto everything I saw in those flashes — Zeke’s fingers wrapped around mine, the muscles of his back as he guided me, the curve of his lips as he eyed me over one shoulder.
We went deeper and deeper into the crowd, toward the DJ, until Zeke pulled me toward the deepest corner of the room. It was right by the DJ stand, the music so loud where it blasted from the speakers that I couldn’t hear anything over it anymore — not even my heartbeat as it raced dangerously fast in my chest.
The crowd was thicker up here, bodies bumping against one another as they danced and held their hands in the air. A few girls balanced precariously in high-heels on the small stage-like platform next to the DJ, one of them pouring shots straight from a bottle into the mouths of anyone who presented themselves at her feet.
