Page 63 of Empty Net

“Let’s have sex, then,” she announces again.

Even though my pants tighten even more, I laugh off her words. “Nice try, Lilah. You’re not getting me with that a second time.”

I rise from my chair, take my empty plate, and reach for hers. She nods, and I grab her plate, carrying them to the counter. After tossing our scraps into the trash, I dump the dishes into the sink to deal with later and turn to clean up the kitchen. I’m acutely aware of Lilah behind me. I can feel her staring as I grab a glass dish from the cabinet above me for the leftover chicken.

There’s none of that light and fun air from earlier, no laughter. No amusement at all. It’s static. Stilted. Lilah’s chair scrapes against the floor, and I try not to react to the noise, try to focus on nothing but the task at hand, but it’s pointless. All I can do is count her steps as she gets closer and closer.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

She’s behind me now, her heat pressing at my back, and I act like she’s not. I don’t trust myself right now; I might do something really stupid like turn around and kiss her.

“Fox,” she says, my name a mere whisper. “I wasn’t joking.”

I swallow. Hard.

Because I knew she wasn’t. Deep down, I knew she wasn’t teasing at all. She meant every word, and as much as I didn’t want to like each one, I did.Do.I really fucking do.

“Fox,” she says again, tugging at my arm, and I let her turn me until I’m facing her.

God, she’s beautiful. Her blue eyes pop against the dark red of her shirt. Her hair hangs loosely around her shoulders, and I’ve been fighting the urge to wrap it around my fingers all night, wanting to see if it’s as silky as it looks. I want to kiss off every bit of the pale pink lipstick on those lips I’ve dreamed about since our kiss.

“I want to help you.”

“Help me?” The words come out strangled like someone is holding my throat and restricting my air supply. Weird becausethat’s how I feel right now as she stares up at me and tells me she wants to help me by having sex with me.

“Yeah. Help you. You say you need to relax, right? Well, this—I—could help you. You’re helping me, so it’s only fair, right?”

I shake my head. “No, Lilah, that’s not fair. I’m not helping you so you’ll sleep with me. I’m helping you because I want to.”

“I know that. And I’m not really saying I want to sleep with you because I want to help you with your game. It’s called a façade.”

“Façade?”

“Yeah, a front. A smokescreen. Pretense.” She chuckles, stepping closer. “I can pull a bunch of other words out of my Scrabble-loving head, but none of them will work better than this. Fox, I want to sleep with you because I want to sleep with you.” Another step. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss and how I want to kiss you again. Because your damn goalie stretches got to me. Because you served mehomemadesparkling jalapeño lime lemonade in a mug. Because you save turtles.” Another step as she pushes up on her tiptoes, her breath ghosting against my lips. “Because Ilikeyou, Arthur Fox.”

I swallow thickly, blood thrumming in my ears.

Because I like you, Arthur Fox.

Arthur.

I drag my tongue against my lips, just barely missing hers.

“You…like me?”

She nods, her stare on my mouth. “I do.”

Another rough gulp. I have no idea what to do with that confession.

I like Lilah, too. A lot. I didn’t think going to a stuffy birthday party or seeing her in my jersey or hanging out with her at Top Shelf or making nachos for her would make me feel that way, but here we are.

“Do you remember when you said I could kiss you if I want to?”

I nod. “I remember.”

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