Page 55 of The Love Playbook

While that’s obviously involved in what Autumn and I are doing—they are sex lessons after all—there’s a lot more to it than that.

Maybe it’s just Autumn and her unique approach to life. And maybe that’s another reason why I should let this end when it runs its course.

But I’ve never met a challenge I didn’t want to conquer, and right or wrong, convincing Autumn that we’d make a good couple—a real couple, not just sex coach and trainee, but an actual dating couple—has become my latest challenge.

Liam slaps me on the shoulder as he passes me in the locker room, lifting his chin in recognition when I turn to face him. “Good game, man. That catch you pulled in the third quarter was …” He makes a big production of giving a chef’s kiss.

Laughing, I stand and pull my shirt over my head. “Thanks. Couldn’t’ve done it without you blocking for me.”

He places his hand on his bare chest, his other hand still holding up his towel as he stops and looks at me, an exaggeratedly emotional expression on his face. “Aw, thanks, man. It feels so good to be recognized.”

“Shut up, Liam,” Eli calls out good naturedly. “You act like no one ever acknowledges you blocking for them.”

“Hey, man,” Liam returns. “I love my efforts getting recognized, and I always show appreciation for compliments. Try it sometime, and maybe you’ll get a few more yourself.”

“Nah,” drawls Andrew. “If he wants more compliments, he needs to do a better job.”

Laughter erupts around the locker room.

“Look who’s talking, second string,” returns Eli, a collective “ooooh,” going up at his response.

“Alright, guys,” pipes up Morris, one of the captains. It was always Simon Hindley who was the peacekeeper before. Now that he’s gone, Morris appears to have taken over that job this year.

“We’re just having fun,Dad,” Liam calls over his shoulder as he turns to his locker, getting his clothes out so he can get dressed. “Awwww, man! Seriously?” he calls out, pulling out Piggy.

More laughter goes up everywhere.

Liam looks around the locker room, his eyes narrowed. “Who Pigged me?”

Everyone stills, eyes shifting as we all look around to see who did it.

“There’s no retaliation, remember?” Morris reminds Liam.

“Yeah, yeah. I need to know so I don’t give it back to him, though, right? That’s also the rules.”

“It was me!” crows Walton, one of the defensive linemen.

Ignoring the rest of the ribbing that always follows someone discovering Piggy in their locker, I refocus on getting dressed, forcing myself not to look at my phone. There won’t be a text from Autumn anyway. I know this. It doesn’t stop me from hoping for one. Or from wishing she’d come to a game, since we played at home today.

But I know inviting her wouldn’t go over well. She’d only remind me of the agreed parameters of our relationship. And while yes, I’m hoping she’ll eventually agree to move beyond that, I know I need to bide my time before broaching that subject.

However, there is one outstanding issue that can get me in her presence before Wednesday.

Once my shirt is on, I scoop up my phone and stuff my feet in my shoes.

Me: We need to schedule a time for me to help you organize your room

Odds are she won’t respond right away. Since that conversation about no feelings and only seeing each other for lessons on Wednesdays, she always takes her time responding to my texts, with the notable exception of Wednesdays when I let her know I’m on my way over.

I’m well aware of what she’s doing. And honestly, the fact that she feels the need to deliberately insert distance like that tells me that she already has more feelings for me than she’d like to admit. Or at the very least that she sees the possibility of developing them if she let herself.

And fortunately, organizing her room will be a big job. Which will help eliminate that distance under the guise of me paying her back. If I’m around more, will she be able to continue resisting her feelings?

I hope not.

If she does, maybe I can at least find out why.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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