“Next time you come to a game, don’t show up in someone else’s jersey.” His fingers trace the outline of the letters spanning across my shoulders. They dance down my spine, and my eyes flutter closed. “I’ll buy you a hundred jerseys with my name on them so you never run out.” “And if I don’t want to wear your jersey?” I ask with a hint of defiance. He brushes a strand of hair away from my neck so he can whisper in my ear. He’s not touching me, but it feels like he is. “I might be nice, Madeline, but I can also be very persuasive.”
