Page 167 of Make the Play

“I get it,” I say quietly.

“I just don’t want tooweanyone an explanation yet.”

“You don’t.”

She leans into me again, cheek pressed to my chest.

“But,” I add, lips brushing the crown of her head, “if we’re keeping it quiet, then I get to fake it exactly how I want.”

She lifts her head, arching a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going to hold your hand in public.”

“You already do that.”

“I’m going to kiss your cheek in the press tunnel.”

“You already dothattoo.”

“I’m going to introduce myself as your boyfriend to anyone who looks at you for longer than two seconds.”

She stares at me, but her eyes crinkle at the corners. “That’s… excessive.”

“I’ll go full PDA in the Monday meeting room. Get banned from the building and placed on an HR poster.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’ll put your name in my Instagram bio.”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t even use Instagram.”

“I will. Just for this.”

She stares at me, unimpressed. “Stop.”

“And I’m going to call you sweetheart in front of Raines.”

“You’ve already called mebabyin front of Raines.”

“Exactly. Time to class it up.”

“Class it up?” she repeats. “You? Pretty sure you have no idea what that even means.”

I hum, ignoring her jab. “Might even throw in adarlin’if I’m feeling spicy.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“You’re in love with me.”

Her scoff is automatic. “You’re not special, I’m like this with everyone.”

“Mm,” I pull her back into my chest. “Sure you are, darlin’.”

She groans, leaning back to glare at me like she wants to kiss meandkill me, which is fair. But there’s a flicker in her eyes, a quiet stutter of emotion and softness she never lets fully surface unless it’s late, dark, and only me.

She wants this, wants us. Wants to believe this is safe and that love doesn’t come with fine print or deadlines. That if we tell the Storm and Pulse, it won’t slip through her fingers.

She’s just not ready to give it to the world yet.

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