Page 25 of Alive At Night

That reasoning tracked. “True, I would hate to inconvenience you.”

“Since when?” He snorted. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

“You’re enjoying yourself,” I pointed out.

Because it was true. He had a brightness in his eyes that reminded me of the energy I used to see when I went to his games in high school. It was like someone had cranked a hidden dial, and now he was in sport mode, his eyes critical as he watched the movements around us. The first quarter began, and our conversation came second to the game. He didn’t even bother to refute my point. A youthful smile wormed onto his face instead.

That was fine with me, though. I wanted Julian to have a good time. If he enjoyed himself tonight, there would be less for him to complain about tomorrow.

The minutes ticked by surprisingly fast. Julian’s attention stayed glued to the field with the exception of halftime; he used that small window of opportunity to sprint to the bathroom and load up on food, which he insisted on sharing with me. And since it was true that I hadn’t carved out a good lunch schedule at work, I stole a few of his french fries during the second half of the game.

“Okay, follow me.”

After the final seconds disappeared on the scoreboard, Julian ushered me down the few steps toward the sidelines. We zigzagged around departing fans as we made our way to the corner of the field, spotting where athletes took off for the locker rooms. And then, like a beacon of sweat, muscles, and tight, shiny pants, there he was. Noah London.

I’d definitely kept my eye on him during the game. Even though my football knowledge was limited to high school games and the things my dad shouted at the TV screen, I knew Noah’s performance was impressive. And now, seeing him up close was overwhelming.

Suddenly nervous, I took a step in the opposite direction—backward.

What was I thinking? Noah London probably got asked on dates every hour of every day. Why did I think that he would ever go on a date withme? Even if it was fake.

Noah was only a few steps away from us when Julian noticed my retreat. His brows furrowed as he jerked his head toward the railing, mouthing for me to get my ass over there.

“This was a bad idea,” I hissed beneath my breath.

“Too late.” Julian grabbed my hand, pulling me to stand beside him. He locked his arm behind my back, gripping the railing on the opposite side of me. “This is your chance, Daisy. We’re not doing this again.”

Stuck with no hopes of escaping, I began fidgeting with my hair.

“Juniper.”

Julian’s sharp voice caught my attention. His eyes were piercingly blue beneath the stadium lights as they roamed my face. We were so close that I could count his strawberry blonde eyelashes if I wanted to. I hoped he couldn’t feel my heart pounding. More importantly, I hoped he didn’t dare think it was because of him.

“Yeah?” I asked, my breathing shallow.

“Stop acting un-Juni-like,” he muttered. “I don’t like it.”

“Un-Juni-like?”

“Yeah.” He looked away. “You know.”

I did know. Only Julian didn’t realize that thiswasme. This nervous, sweaty-palmed girl was me most days; I just never let him see it. He was used to a different Juni. But he was right about one thing. If I could turn my confidence on at work, I could do it here, too.

Noah waved a security guard away with the assurance that we were welcome and greeted Julian heartily. They shared a slightly awkward handshake, considering our position above him, and I plastered on a smile. But before I could say anything, another ridiculously hot football player jogged over to join us.

“Looking good out there, Gray,” Julian called as the brown-haired, sharp-jawed man stopped beside Noah.

He smiled broadly, and when Julian and Noah returned it, I felt sweat tickle my brow. The fall weather had been warm today, but notthiswarm. Not warm enough for me to become this much of a mess.

There were too many handsome guys in too small of a space, and my nerves weren’t sure they could handle it. I probably would have snuck away if it weren’t for Julian’s strong arm behind my back, locking me in at his side.

“Why didn’t you mention you were coming yesterday?” Grayson asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Last-minute plans,” Julian said. “Juniper and I work together now, and she had an extra ticket.”

And then, looking like he was truly pained to do it, Julian opened the conversation up to me.

“Daisy, this is Grayson Everett and Noah London.” He pointed out each player as if they didn’t have their names embroidered on their jerseys. Or on ours. “They were my teammates and roommates, so you might remember meeting them when you and Gemma visited California.”

---