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“Hello?” Sirens blared and truck engines rumbled and roared nearly drowning out the voice.
“Dude, where’s the fire?” Reece rubbed his eyes, stepping out of his bedroom. “At Marisa’s.” “Are you serious?”
Fear for Marisa clogged my throat and made it hard to focus. I needed to get to her. I needed to see her. I needed her to be okay.
If anything happened to her, I’d lose it.
With a watery smile, she flung off the blanket and jumped out of the ambulance, ignoring the EMTs yelling after her. I opened my arms. She slammed into my chest, nearly knocking me over.
“She’s good. No singeing of the hair in her nose.” Marisa mumbled under her breath, “yippee.”
The back doors of an ambulance opened and a vaguely familiar big guy stepped out, holding out his hand and holding onto it was Liv, Marisa’s roommate. Then it clicked into place. Ford. Liv’s maybe-boyfriend had made it here too.
It wouldn’t be the first time Ford had swooped in to save Liv—at
Instead of fighting me, she closed her eyes. Good it was settled. Shit, it was settled. I was sleeping next to Marisa tonight.
Wrapping my fingers just above her knee, I squeezed the spot twice. She jolted awake, her head whipping around.
Seeing her in my clothes did something to me—something
Sliding into the bed, I curled my body around hers, wrapping my arm around her. Just for tonight. Just because of how close I’d come to losing her. Just because I couldn’t help myself.
Tonight, I’d hold her in my arms. Tomorrow, I’d figure out how to deal with being in love with the coach’s daughter.
“Ye of little faith. These sweats do have pockets.” “Oh those were spoons in your pocket. I thought you were just happy to see me.”
Every other girl on campus got to ogle LJ, but not me. I was the best friend, the partner in crime, but never more than that. After all this time, I should be used to it.
The only reason LJ went out of his way to drag me back to our friendship whenever I tried to put space between us was because I’d saved his dad’s life.
The crowd’s eyes lit up when they spotted LJ. I smiled as he ducked his head. The attention always made the tips of his ears go red.
I shoved my hand into his back pocket and yanked out his wallet. “I’ll order for us.”
It was always a chocolate and vanilla swirl with rainbow and chocolate jimmies. Always. He’d stand and stare at the menu, waiting for the line to move, and then he’d get to the counter and order the same thing every time.
He hated the attention. It made him want to go full turtle and crawl inside his shell. I loved it. I loved watching him get the attention he deserved after the amount of work he put in on the field.
He was the best person I knew. Too bad he didn’t feel even half of what I felt for him.
Overstaying my welcome wasn’t something I ever wanted to do with LJ’s family. I felt like I’d already overstayed my welcome with my own mother.
All those promises to send birthday money or Christmas presents and we’ve never heard a peep.”
Did you leave any cash?” If she was going to be gone for an indeterminate amount of time, I’d need to buy more food. She let out a sigh like my request for money for food was the same as whining for a shiny new BMW for my birthday. “You’re eighteen. You’re strong and independent. I’m sure you can figure it out, sweetheart.”
She’d stolen my freaking food. I let out a scream of frustration.
“I got this for you.” He shoved the bakery bag under my nose while turning his away. “I got you an everything bagel with strawberry cream cheese.”
he didn’t need to know my mom was out getting bombed somewhere with some guy she probably barely knew. LJ would probably show up with a full list of rehabs and family therapists, but people could only be helped if they thought there was a problem.
A match was a pipe dream. Helping LJ coordinate it had been easy—anything for Charlie. When the news that I was the person they’d been looking for came, all eyes were glued on me.
It had been three weeks since Marisa moved into my house—into my bed. Liv had shown up at The Brothel a few days after the fire, cursing Ford’s name and swearing to Marisa that she would exact a vivid and slightly disturbing torture on him for whatever he’d done.
Liv had packed up her things, bought us a few cases of beer as a thank you, and practically floated out the door under the watchful gaze of her no-longer-broken-up-with boyfriend, so there was another sleeping option for Marisa—or me. But we kept sharing my bed.
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if you keep touching me like that, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from kissing you.
When she got back into bed, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tell her no. I wanted her just as much, had wanted her for too long.
There were so many plans swirling around my head for how to bridge the chasm from best friend to girlfriend.
“Coach Saunders…” I licked my lips. The ones I’d been seconds from pressing against Marisa’s.
“All I want is for you to be safe and happy.” Marisa peeked over at me with a hide-and-seek smile. “I am.”
I jolted, jumping back and pulling Marisa’s arm from around me and dropping my hands in front of me. She looked over at me, her eyebrows dipping before she folded her arms across her chest again. My stomach plummeted.
Not after I recreated the senior trip for her after she’d saved my dad’s life and she had made it categorically known that she wasn’t into me that way.
“I love her.” He squeezed the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Will you still love her in a year? In two years?” “I’ve loved her since we were fifteen. It’s never going away.”
Anytime my parents took her aside to talk to her, she’d always reassured us her mom was just busy and was the go-to responsible friend, so everyone always turned to her.
After next year. After the draft. After I signed my first pro contract, I’d be able to take care of her and everyone else I cared about without a second thought.
I’d gotten a big head thinking his morning wood was due to me. Maybe he had forgotten who I was for a second, just thinking of me as another woman who’d woken up in his bed, not Marisa, his best friend.
Maybe it was a test. One where I waited it out to see how long it would actually take for him to realize his daughter might have died in a fire. Maybe. And I’d gotten my answer: three weeks.
he’d uttered those fateful words: ‘we need to talk’. Turned out they worked just as well on girls as they did on guys.
Why’d he have to say it like that? Like he’d committed my schedule to memory and knew everything about me. Well he mostly did, but like a best friend did, not like a guy who wanted to jump my bones.
My mom’s voice rang in my ears. They all leave.
“So if I slipped my hand into your sweats right now for a little handy action?” His eyes widened and his whole body locked. Not in a hell-yes-more-of-that kind of way. More like please-don’t-let-my-pain-in-the-ass-friend-paw-me-again kind of way.
“Hi, I’m Serious. Nice to meet you.” Dad jokes for the win at defusing insanely embarrassing situations.
“But it means going after it with a singular focus.” An intensity burned in his eyes and I wished he was going after me with a singular focus.
I had less than a year left until he was drafted, and I needed to figure out what to do next. This time I wasn’t going to be left behind. This time I’d do the leaving.
They could be total marshmallows, or absolute d-bags who didn’t understand why ladies weren’t lined up around the block to blow them. The funny thing was, it was often inversely proportional to how good they were on the field.
