Page 19 of The Love Playbook

We lost last year’s bowl game. So this year, we not only have to make it, we have to actually win.

Of course we lost half our offensive line to graduation and a few even got drafted into the NFL. Gray Kilpatrick, our starting quarterback, ended up with the Florida Privateers, Simon Hindley, our left tackle, is with the Georgia Rebels, Cal McAdam, the second string quarterback who got us to Division I before Gray transferred in and took his starting spot, ended up with the Colorado Bison, and Alex Martinez, who was the starting wide receiver the last two years, got drafted by Los Angeles.

We got some strong new recruits in this year’s freshmen, but no one good enough to replace the guys we lost. And I’m not gonna lie, filling Martinez’s shoes is a tall order.

Maybe Eli’s right that I shouldn’t be dating Autumn. Not because of anything wrong with her, but because I should be focusing on football.

But Hindley and McAdam and Kilpatrick all managed to start and continue serious relationships their senior season and even got drafted. I’m not planning on entering the draft, so all I have to worry about is the pressure of performing here.

Don’t get me wrong, I love football. But I’ve seen these guys getting career-ending injuries in their twenties and thirties. Hell, I’ve seen guys’ careers end in college. If I can make it through this year without any major joint blowouts or concussions, I’ll be happy. And I’ll be able to put my engineering major to good use.

Everyone thinks I’m a giant nerd, and maybe I am, but I enjoy engineering. I get to solve complex problems and help people. Make the world a better place, one solution at a time.

That means a lot more to me than football, to be honest.

As I strip off my clothes and pull fresh shorts and a clean Marycliff Football T-shirt from my dresser, I idly wonder if Autumn has any problems that need solving.

Much as I enjoyed our kiss and am looking forward to whatever else she might have planned, I’d feel a lot better about her helping me out like this if I could help her out some way too.

CHAPTER TEN

Autumn

Jackson’s kiss plays through my mind for the rest of the evening. When we were just standing next to my car, I wasn’t sure he was actually going to do it. And I’d decided already that I wasn’t going to initiate this time, because the goal was for him to get practice doing that. Even knowing that, he still almost chickened out.

But then I stepped in for a hug, and he dipped his head and kissed me. So tentative, so soft, that I almost wasn’t sure if he meant it. But he definitely meant it, even getting some tongue action in. I didn’t expect that, to be honest. Yeah, I’d mentioned it as a possibility, but given his hesitation, I figured a peck was as far as he’d be willing to go.

Plus, it’s not like we’re dating for real. This is an arrangement so he can get practice. Which I suppose it makes sense that he’d want to practice all the kissing variations, especially if he hasn’t done that before. But I know plenty of people who don’t kiss like that unless they have serious feelings for the person they’re kissing. If it’s just sex and maybe companionship—like it is with us, plus the tutoring aspect—it’s only closed mouth kisses, if any kisses at all.

I don’t personally have that boundary, but the last few guys I’ve been with did. So his tongue slicking along my lip startled me to the point of jerking away. Which was terrible, because then of course he thought he’d done something wrong.

I hope the following kiss erased that fear from his mind, but we’ll have to debrief tomorrow and go over what went well. I’ll be sure to apologize for my reaction and make it clear that he did everything right.

Now I need to decide what we should do next. I know whatIwould normally do next, but I’m not sure Jackson’s quite ready for that yet. Of course, I wouldn’t necessarily end a date with just a kiss either. Sometimes. But not always.

Opening the laptop on my desk, I sit down on the cushion I keep on my chair. When I’m in my room, I tend to not wear clothes. I have a robe handy in case my roommates, who are far less comfortable with general nudity particularly in group settings, need anything. Nearly everything in this house is thrift store chic, which I personally love. I like giving new life to old things, and when certain stores have half-price days, you can get decent furniture for a steal. My desk—which is really an old console table—and old dining room chair are perfect examples of that. The cushion is one I picked up at a big box store, since I couldn’t find anything I liked at the thrift stores. Plus, pillows and cushions that have been who knows where … I’m not going to put my bare ass on any of that.

I tap my fingers on the keyboard, trying to figure out what exactly I want to search. I think I’ll bring Jackson back here on Wednesday. That way we’ll have the time and space to explore more. And I’ll let him set the boundaries on what he is and isn’t comfortable with. But if things progress to under-the-clothes touching or even getting undressed, I want to be able to give him good tips on what to do.

Do I need an article for that, though? Like, how to tell your man what you like? I’ve never had a problem articulating my preferences in the past. I don’t think I will now, either.

Closing my laptop without having searched anything, I pick up my phone and shoot Jackson a text.

Me: I had fun tonight. The kiss was really good. Sorry I acted so surprised when you went farther. I just didn’t expect that on our first time! It was wonderful, though. 10/10 def recommend

Tapping send, I smile down at the phone, imagining his blush when he reads it. Hopefully he’ll be alone, otherwise everyone will give him a hard time for blushing while texting with me.

Maybe eventually he won’t blush constantly. Once he relaxed this evening, that calmed down a lot.

I’m glad he’s getting more comfortable with me. It’ll make everything easier in the long run.

* * *

“I still can’t believe you’re corrupting sweet, innocent Jackson,” Ellie mutters as she gathers her things, preparing to clear out along with Piper and Dani so Jackson and I can have the house to ourselves after our date tonight.

I didn’t want him to feel like he has to buy me dinner every time we get together, especially since eating out doesn’t fit very well with an athlete’s meal plan, so I offered to make him dinner here. I found a delicious recipe of chicken in mustard cream sauce served on a bed of wild rice with a side of fresh broccoli spears.

My roommates keep eyeing the pan on the kitchen stove, longingly sniffing the air until I shoo them away.

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