Page 92 of The Game Plan

He gulps, his cheeks flushing a deep, velvety red. His eyes dart to the grinding couples and then back to me.

“I don’t… my body doesn’t move like that.”

“We don’t have to dance like they do,” I tell him quietly. “I just want you to hold me.”

He swallows. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Offering my hand, he takes it and threads our fingers together. With the help of my heels, my head can rest on his strong shoulder. He pulls me close and slides his arm around my back, supporting me, grounding me. I twine my arms around him. He smells like Old Spice and something else uniquely Miles, enticing and familiar and so, so good.

The excessively loud hip-hop has people grinding and gyrating around us. We revolve slowly in a circle. His chin settles on top of my head.

This is all I wanted, to be held by him and to relax in the comforting circle of his embrace. A sense of calm washes over me. He soothes my aches and comforts my hurts. He doesn’t magically make my life better. I’m not a better person or more whole because I have a boyfriend. I’m still me.

But now I have someone who loves me—and lets me love them in return. It’s still early days. We have a lot of road to cover. We’re going to have blips. We’re going to fight. Life is hard. Relationships are hard.

I’m confident we can get through it together.

“My sister is coming to visit next weekend,” Miles says, his arms tightening around me. “How do you feel about going to the Delta party?”

I lift my head to goggle at him. “You want to go to a frat party?”

“Not really,” he admits. His thumb brushes over my cheek. “I’m fairly certain you’re going to want to go, and if you’re going, I’m there.”

“Yeah, it’s part of the plan.”

“So we’re going.” He gazes down at me, warmth in his eyes. “And you’re okay if Mack crashes the party? We have to watch out for her.”

“I’m cool with that.” I want to get to know his sisters. I want to get to know his family.

“And my mom wants to know what you’re doing for Thanksgiving. I know we still have a few weeks. Are you going home to Mississippi?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” My parents and I talked about it last week. It’s a long, expensive trip for a quick weekend. I miss my family. I want to see them. But sometimes it’s easier not to go home.

“She wants to invite you. If you’re okay with that.”

There’s a lump in my throat the size of Rhode Island. “That would be… I…”

“Don’t feel like we’re forcing you into it,” he says quickly. “The guys will all be there. If you want to go home or just don’t want to deal with my giant crazy family—”

“I want to be with you. Wherever you are,” I assure him. “Let me work everything out with my family. If I don’t go home, I would love to join you.”

He bestows a soft, sweet kiss upon my lips. “I love you,” he says, brushing his nose against mine. He kisses me again, and again, and again.

Chapter thirty-five

Miles

Theformalisn’tnearlyas terrible as I was anticipating. Yeah, the food is mediocre, and the music is downright terrible, but I have Sam back in my arms where she belongs. Nothing could possibly compare.

She doesn’t hate me. She still wants to be with me.

She’s right that it’s a shitshow. The party is full of sorority girls drunk off their asses and frat dudes drunk as skunks. I have one drink and nurse it for two hours. I’m not interested in alcohol like that.

Sam is pleasantly buzzed. Her hands are all over me. She can’t stop touching me, like she’s half afraid I’m going to up and disappear on her again. I’m not going anywhere, not without her by my side.

As the party dwindles down, we begin the laborious process of cleaning up after a hundred drunk college kids. The decorations are easy enough to take down. The people puking in the bushes, not so much.

Around one thirty in the morning, Sam drops into the empty chair beside me and groans.

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