Page 46 of The Game Plan

“You totally have.” She rolls her eyes and settles back in the booth. “Come on, tell us everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Except inside I’m squealing like a stuck pig. He kissed me!Hekissedme! In front of all of his friends and family, the person he wanted to see most after his terrible game was me.

The person who got him benched from the game. Yeah, I forgot about that little tidbit.

I’m not sure which anonymous internet stranger sent me the video. I don’t know how they got my number, how they knew I was there. I’m a little scared, to be honest. That’s some grade A internet sleuthing. What’s next, doxxing? I’m more concerned about the video on his social media profile. Both he and O’Rourke were tagged, and it was clearly not taken by one of the volleyball teammates. Someone all the way across the dining hall decided it was their right to film and their obligation to post it.

My sisters are all looking at me expectantly. I want to tell them. I should tell them.

But I also want to keep that moment wrapped up tight, keep it close to myself for just a little while longer. He wants me. He wants to kiss me! He isn’t as uninterested as he’s made it seem.

I hope.

I don’t know where we stand. I’m going to see him in a few hours. That will have to be enough for now. I can’t obsess over it. Time will pass, whether I want it to or not.

We settle into the booth and conversation turns, like usual, to the formal coming up in a few weeks. Kiersten is on the decorating committee. Haleigh has to babysit the freshmen. I’ve been manipulated into helping clean up after the event, which means I get to miss the after-party that will continue into the wee hours of the morning. Not my scene. I’d call that a success in my book. I don’t have to corral drunk people, I only need to clean up after them.

Tamar nudges me. “Will we see you at the Delta party?”

She’s giving me an out. “Why wouldn’t I be there?”

“I don’t know. You might have plans with the person who smeared your lipstick.” She gives me a triumphant grin. Yeah, she hasn’t forgotten about that.

“I think I’m going to skip the party tonight,” I say, a little too loud. Stretching my arms over my head, I yawn theatrically. “I’m beat. Practice today was rough. I think I’m just going to chill and watch a movie.”

“Have fun,” Kiersten says.

“We’ll miss you,” Haleigh says.

It’s nice to be out and about with my sisters. We don’t spend nearly enough time together, what with my softball commitments and their everyday lives. They have stuff going on, too.

Kiersten drives us back across town to campus. It’s bitterly cold out, that kind of cold that seeps into your bones and lingers. I want to curl up under a pile of blankets with a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed someone and leech his body heat. I want to do a lot more than that.

As much as I want the cozy couple-y things we’ve been doing, I want more. I want to map the curves of his body, the strength of his muscles. I want to feel the crush of his weight on top of me, pinning me down as he thrusts inside of me. I want to feel his breath on my lips, his smile on my mouth. I want to—

It’s been a long time since I’ve had good sex, the kind you can’t stop thinking about and want to replay in your mind over and over again. College boys are great at mediocre sex, the kind you kind of regret in the aftermath, the kind where it’s up to you to get yourself off because they don’t know how to make that happen. I’m done with mediocre.

I don’t think Miles is mediocre in any respect. The way he kissed me…

It’s been nearly three hours since I saw him. It’s like there’s an itch beneath my skin I can’t scratch. I want to see him. Ineedto see him. I need to know where we stand. Are we kissing friends now? Was it a fluke? Was he simply so hopped up on emotion, it poured out? Does he regret it?

I hope he doesn’t. I don’t.

Knocking on the door to the linebacker house, the door is yanked open almost before I can pull my hand away. Miles stands in the doorway, wearing a pair of Newton sweats and an NSC Football sweatshirt.

“Hey,” I manage.

He steps outside in his dingy white socks, shutting the door behind him. He must be freezing.

“Hi.” He swallows thickly. “Listen, about earlier…”

He regrets it. He wishes it didn’t happen. I was reading too much into it. He was being nice—he doesn’t actually like me. My chest aches. I’ve got this all wrong.

“I should go,” I say. There’s still enough time. I can go to the Delta party and get drunk and forget this day ever happened.

He catches my hand. Tugging sharply, he pulls me into him. I stumble into him, and he wraps his arms around me.

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