When Dylan looked over his shoulder toward the field, I looked that way too. A few of his teammates had already started to head for the locker rooms. “I should let you—” I stopped speaking when Dylan’s gloved hand—his huge gloved hand—cupped my cheek and gently tilted my face up. The world around me slowed down, and I stood still. I swear to you, I watched his eyes roam my face in slow motion. “I like having your eyes on me, Zoe.”
