Page 32 of The Game Plan

We’re friends. We’ve barely established whatever this is. She doesn’t need one of her so-called friends slobbering over her.

“Good night.”

Her face falls. “Have a good night. Thank you for walking me home.”

“Any time.”

Chapter eleven

Sam

Layinginmybedall day on Sunday, warm and cozy, I can’t keep from replaying our evening in my head. We snuggled! He let me snuggle with him! He held my hand on the walk home and didn’t complain when I made such a big deal out of the snow. He made me cocoa and gave me his super secret stash of marshmallows and then he let me cuddle him and—

I could die happy now. Except, no, I couldn’t, because he just thinks we’re friends. The dreaded friend-zone.

Eventually, I pull myself out of bed and head downstairs. Most of my roommates are out of the house, watching a men’s swim meet. Lex has a crush on one of the swimmers. We all support one another, so when there’s an event or a meet or a game on campus, we all bundle up and go.

He held my hand!

Bundling up, I trek all the way across campus in the snow to the science center grab-and-go field station just to acquire a bottle of grape Gatorade. All I want is to see the smile on Miles’s face when he sees it. That’ll keep me going.

There’s a knock on the front door around five. Aleesha came home about an hour ago—she wasn’t feeling very well, period cramps from hell—and she’s locked away in her room. Athlete’s Village is a restricted community; people need a student athlete ID card to get in. Not even parents are allowed to drop by without written permission and being signed in. Nobody comes to visit, so I wonder who’s here.

Miles is standing on the front porch, his coat and strong shoulders dusted with snow.

“Hey,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Hi.” A giddy burst of excitement wells up deep within me. He came to see me! He sought me out!

“I’m heading over to the dining hall in a bit. With the guys,” he adds quickly. “Do you want to walk over with us?”

“Sure! That sounds great!”

Shit. Was that too enthusiastic? I’m showing all my cards here. “I just need to get dressed.”

His eyes scrub over me. I feel naked under his gaze in the best possible way. “You look great.”

I’m wearing fuzzy lounge pants and a Dean High School Football shirt I stole from an ex boyfriend I don’t miss one bit. My feet are covered with cozy socks. I haven’t brushed my hair today. I—shit, I haven’t brushed my hair today. I don’t know if I even took off my makeup last night. Shit, shit, shit.

“You’re a liar, but thank you,” I say, because my mama taught me manners, and I only sometimes remember to pull them out.

He goes pink. He scrubs the back of his head with his enormous hand. I wonder what it would be like to have those enormous hands all over me, touching me, those thick, blunt fingers pressing inside of me…

“Are you okay? You look flushed,” he says, a furrow appearing between his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

Miles coughs. “So, um, we’ll pick you up in about fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll be ready,” I promise.

“Well, um, bye?”

He turns away, making his way slowly down the porch stairs. I close the door behind him and scurry into action. In fourteen minutes, I scrub my face, brush my teeth, tie my hair up into a messy top knot, and change into actual clothes, a pair of leggings and a flowing tunic top. There’s no time to worry about makeup or looking cute. If he doesn’t like me as I am, I’m not going to become someone else just to please him.

There’s a knock on my door sixteen and a half minutes later. Miles is on my front porch again, the rest of the guys clustered together at the end of the walk.

“You ready?”

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