Page 105 of Only in Your Dreams

“Oh,come on. Why did I need to hear that?” Noah stands in the doorway to the kitchen, looking utterly distraught.

Zac’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Get lost, Irving. We’re busy.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing I want more than to never make eye contact with you again. But any more of this and we’ll miss our bus.”

“Fuck everything,” Zac mutters under his breath. With a deep, centering breath, he steps out from between my thighs with an impressive bulge snaking down his pant leg. “Go wait in the car, Noah.”

With Noah safely out of the kitchen, Zac adjusts himself and helps me down. Leaning onto the counter to steady my shaking legs, I reach into the pocket of my dress.

Zac grins at the four-leaf clover I twirl between my fingers. “Are you sleeping here tonight?”

I shake my head. “Brooks is going with you, so the alibi’s shot. We’re all going to watch your game at Oakley’s, and then I’ll stay at Parker’s. Take a break from rolling around in Brooks’s sheets.”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate your fake boyfriend?”

“He’s your friend. And his sheets are imaginary.” I pause, pretending to consider. “I bet they’re really soft, though.”

His eyes narrow. “Mention his imaginary sheets one more time and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Zac Porter, jealous of my fake boyfriend. Tell me about this ten years ago and I’d never have believed it. I tickle the tip of his nose with the clover. “For the record, I like your sheets better.”

“Because you picked them out?”

“Because I wake up and I’m here with you.”

Wide-eyed, he accepts the clover in the palm of his hand, and I lift on the tips of my toes to give him a kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, Coach.”

He’s halfway out of the kitchen before I call out to him. “Oh, and Zac? Thank you for the apples.”

He flashes me that crinkle-eyed grin. “You’re welcome, Clover.”

* * *

I want to scream.

I want to do an outrageous celebratory dance around my bedroom, pop a bottle of champagne, cry tears of joy-slash-relief.

Most of all, I want to get into my car, drive the three hours to the city and give that man the kiss of his life.

The game ended hours ago. I sent him a text the second the final whistle sounded, but I haven’t heard anything back. Not that I expected it. He probably went out for a seriously deserved celebration with his staff after the press conference.

Out on the street, I hear a chorus of Huskies Howls from bar-goers celebrating the team’s twenty to thirteen win over the Knights. My insides twist with intense regret. Noah was right—I should have gone to the game. Pretended I was there for Brooks and celebrated with them all.

Screw it.

It’s well past one in the morning, I have no plan to speak of, but I don’t care. I need to see him, three-hour drive be damned.

I grab my purse from where it’s hanging off the back of my desk chair. Bolt out of my bedroom, only vaguely aware that I haven’t packed an overnight bag of any kind, and that I’m currently not wearing pants.

At Parker’s front door, a notification flashes on my phone, and my heart almost busts out of my chest.

ZAC:Clover.

MELODY:I’m coming. I’m sorry I missed it, but I’m heading there now, okay? Where are you?

Three grey dots appear at the bottom of our text thread, flickering as he types.

ZAC:Open your front door.

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