Page 88 of Only in Your Dreams

Like he doesn’t care about this team, like he doesn’t work his ass off every day to get them in a better place, like—

“Oh, there’s your brother coming back,” Emily says, jumping up as Parker files into our row. “You’ll make sure to come to the WAGs game, yes? This Tuesday at the stadium! I know the girls would love to meet the one who managed to pin down Brooks Attwood. We’d all be lying if we said he wasn’t the team heartthrob.”

Brooks, the heartthrob?

I find him on the sideline, standing with Zac. He’s objectively good-looking, sure. The tattoos covering his arms do give him a certain edge and, yeah, he was an NFL star until his injury.

But are these women blind?

How do you even manage to pay attention to another man when Zac Porter is standing beside him? Have theyseenhim smile? How competent he looks, coaching down there?

Also, he smells pretty wonderful, and he’s very warm when you cuddle in bed. He makes sure to move your hair out of the way so it doesn’t snag in the middle of the night.

Also, his body is the kind of mouthwatering that stays imprinted on the back of your eyelids, so that whenever you close your eyes, you can still see the way he looked bathing in that lake.

Also—

Parker plops down in the seat just vacated by Emily, with Summer at his other side. “Look at you, Mels. We leave you for five minutes and you’re already making new friends.”

“That was Emily Davies—she’s dating one of the coaches. Apparently, there’s this flag football game I get to go to?”

Maybe spending a night acting the part of loving girlfriend to Brooks doesn’t feel appealing. But I used toloveflag football in high school.

“The WAGs game,” Parker says with a nod. “Heard about that. They do it every year. Guess it’s part of the package now you’re one of them.”

Summer pokes her head around Parker. “Howarethings going with Brooks, Mels?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s good. He’s really nice,” I say vaguely. Parker turns his attention to his knee, working to dry the condensation mark his beer has left over.

“He is,” Summer agrees. “You know, I’ve known him since Zac started bringing him around. But I’d never have pictured you two together.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“I always thought you’d be with someone with a little more bite than Brooks. Who isn’t afraid to challenge you when you try to get a rise out of him.”

I smile, eyeing Zac where he’s standing huddled with Brooks. “He does a pretty good job of it.”

Summer follows my sightline. “He’s pretty fine, too. I’m sure that doesn’t hurt.”

The game has really taken a bad turn. Still, Zac is down there looking so good, visibly trying to pep up his players. He’s oozing confidence despite the score, and I feel absurdly proud watching him command his team’s respect like this.

“You have no idea. Seriously, he’s a twenty out of ten,” I say absently, suddenly distracted by the way Zac’s pants fit him.

The whistle goes off, calling the end of the first half. Almost instantly, Parker and Summer are accosted by a group of girls I vaguely figure out play on the Huskies volleyball team.

I catch a glimpse of Zac following his players as they disappear through the opening under the stands. He scans our row of seats, eyes settling on me. It’s not long. He doesn’t get much more out than a soundlessheybefore we lose sight of each other, but seeing him manage a smile despite the state of the game releases some of the anxious pressure in my stomach.

After a while, I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Hi, love. I thought I’d find you here!”

I turn to see Callie, the town’s boutique owner, dropping into the vacant seat on my other side. She’s holding a plastic cup of beer in each hand, and the wide smile on her face tells me they probably aren’t her first drinks of the night.

“Cal, look at you double fisting. I’m impressed.”

She laughs, lifting the cup in her right hand. “I swear this one’s for Amber. Assuming she shows up while there’s still beer in it.”

“’Atta girl.” We turn to watch a couple of maroon-painted college kids pound down the rest of their drinks and file toward the concession area. “Has it always been this rowdy here? I swear this feels different from what I remember.”

“You’d be right. The crowd’s definitely gotten meaner. We haven’t made the playoffs in five years, now? Six? You know how it gets here. People aren’t taking too kindly to seeing one of the few forms of entertainment in this town lose season after season.”

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