Page 70 of Unrivaled

And while Ben might’ve slept like the dead last night, that doesn’t mean he’ll do the same now that it’s seven in the morning. So sneaking in to wake up Tiffany and see if she’s up for another round is too risky.

Which leaves going for a run. And since it’s the weekend, it’ll be a short one, my heavy training taking place during the week when the coaches are around and the facilities are fully open.

Pulling on sweats that I got out last night, I head outside, shivering in the cold February air. My breath comes out in billowing puffs that’ll only get bigger once I start breathing harder. Frost lines the rail on the stairs leading to the apartment above mine and makes all the car windows opaque.

Earbuds in, I walk to the back entrance to the apartment complex to get my blood pumping, then start an easy jog through the neighborhood. It feels good to move, and as usual, my mind starts to wander, processing through all the current puzzles and problems.

Before today I’ve been circling back to Ben and Tiffany pretty regularly, wondering things like: Is Ben warming up to me? Will he ever call me dad on his own or will I need to ask him to? Is Tiffany warming up to me? If not, why did she let me kiss her? And why kiss me back? But she refuses to discuss those kisses, and what does that mean?

But after last night, all I can think about is the way she felt against me, around me, and how soon can we do it again? I haven’t even begun to get my fill of her.

As thrilled as I am about last night, I’m still not convinced she won’t run away again, though, so I cut my jog short, circling back. I don’t want her to scamper off while I’m gone and then pretend last night never happened.

Although if Ben’s up, I won’t be able to kiss her …

Damn. It hasn’t even been twelve hours, and I’m already chafing at the restrictions.

Still. It’s worth it—she’sworth it—if in the end I get them both. And that’s my new goal. I’ve got the NFL all but in the bag as long as I keep up with my training, which I will definitely do. I’ve been trying to figure out what should be next for me. And now I know.

I’ve managed to convince Tiffany to give me a chance. Now I just need to convince her to give me forever.

* * *

When I get back to the apartment, I find Tiffany back in her dress from last night sitting at the kitchen table with Ben and giggling over breakfast.

Ben straightens as soon as I come through the door. “Gray!” he yells, with the unmatched exuberance only a little kid can muster, then scrambles out of his chair and hurls himself at me. “Mama wanted to leave before you got back, but I said no no no, we hafta see Gray.”

“Oh really?” I scoop Ben up for a hug and look at Tiffany, who at least has the grace to blush and look away, brushing imaginary crumbs together on the table.

“We have things to do today, is all. I wasn’t trying to avoid you,” she says.

“I see.” When she meets my eyes, I know that I’ve effectively communicated my disbelief. Setting Ben back on the ground, I pat his back and direct him back toward his seat. “Finish your breakfast, bud. Your mom and I are going to get your things together, alright?”

Ben scrambles into his seat, and Tiffany eyes me warily, but eventually stands and follows me to the bedroom.

Once there, I close the door behind her. When I turn to face her again, she’s transformed from the chagrined girl in the kitchen back to the fiery ballbuster who tried to serve my nuts to me when I approached her after class about getting time with Ben.

She points at the door and hisses, “He’s not that far away. We don’t have time for a repeat of last night right now.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I tamp down the urge to laugh. “Oh, I know that, sweetheart. That’s not what this is, though I have to admit if it were on the table, I certainly wouldn’t be upset.”

She narrows her eyes and lifts her chin. “What is it then?”

I spread my arms. “You were going to leave before I got back?”

Her chin dips a little, and her cheeks grow pink again. “I already said that we have things to do today. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Doesn’t it, though? This is your MO, Tiff. We hooked up in high school, and you ran off immediately after. I looked for you. That night, I looked for you. I stayed until almost everyone had gone home, hoping you hadn’t left already, that you’d been closeted away with your friends or something and would come out, giggly and drunk, and I could get your number and give you a ride home. But you left immediately, didn’t you?”

She opens her mouth, but no words come. And I’m not interested in waiting for her to figure out what to say anyway.

“And here we are again. Every time we’ve kissed, you’ve avoided me for days after. What is it? Am I that bad of a kisser? Is that it? I’m so terrible in bed that you can’t stand to even be near me? But you’re … what? Too nice to just tell me the truth?”

“No!” Her protest is too immediate, too instinctive to be a lie. Not that I thought that was the case. I know it’s not me. Number one, I’m a fantastic kisser. And number two, I’ve made sure she’s gotten what she needed from me both times we’ve had sex. I’m not saying I’m some kind of sex god or anything, but I make sure she’s satisfied at the very least.

No, she’s been running scared since that very first night. But I’m not going to let her get away with it anymore. Not without telling me to my face, anyway.

“Then what’s the problem, Tiff?” I ask softly.

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