Page 35 of Let You Love Me

“Aside from school and work, I hardly ever leave the house,” I warn.

“I get it.” He shrugs. “If I’m free, I can come to you.”

I open and close my mouth in one last-ditch effort to come up with an excuse to avoid him, but I’m all out of excuses. This boy has an answer for everything, and the truth is, I have no real reasons for why we can’t be friends. So, I offer him a feeble, “But we hardly know each other.”

He snorts and reaches out, giving my ponytail a playful tug. “Looks like we’ll have togetto know each other. That’s what friends do, right?”

I take a deep breath, eyeing him closely. “If you think this will lead to something more, I should tell you now, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. I don’t have the capacity for more.”

“Worried about me?” He cocks his head, his gaze warm as my heart leaps in my chest.

This is a bad idea.

I swallow. “No. Just stating facts.”

He stares at me for a moment, some emotion I can’t read flickering in his eyes. “Who hurt you?”

My eyes widen, and I take a step back. “What?”

“Someone did,” he says so plainly, I want to ask him how he knows.

“No one hurt . . .” I trail off and scoff, evading his observation. “Guys can’tjustbe friends with women. At least not when they’re attracted to each other,” I say, hating that I’m repeating back the words Chance said to me after practice. “You’ll either come to want something or expect something in return. That’s how it always goes.”

“So you admit you’re attracted to me?” he teases.

My lips part, aghast, before he steps closer and slings one of his muscular arms over my shoulder. “Oh, I can be friends, Lane Turner. I’m a giver, not a taker.”

My heart seizes as my mind rolls completely into the gutter.I’m a giver, not a taker.My gaze drifts over his square jaw to the gentle curves of his mouth. His lips are full and pink and—what the hell?

I swallow when I realize he’s waiting for me to respond, to say something. “As long as we’re on the same page,” I manage and barely refrain from patting myself on the back for forming words.

He gives my shoulders a little squeeze like we’re already best buds. “Trust me when I say I won’t expect anything from you. At least not anything you’re unwilling to give.”

“Teagan, if this is a game—”

“Damn,” he gives his head a little shake. “You don’t trust easily, do you?”

“No.” There’s no point in denying the truth.

“Well then, I’ll just have to earn it, won’t I?”

He drops his arm and takes a step back as he smiles down at me, an adorable crinkle forming at the corners of his eyes. “I’m a good friend, Lane. The fucking best. Just you wait and see.”

Chapter 9

TEAGAN

Isit down atone of the small tables at The Buzzy Bean with a sandwich and an iced coffee. A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s almost seven o’clock. After practice wrapped up for the day, I showered and came straight here, hoping to get some homework and studying done until they close at nine because I’m one hundred percent certain the second I get to the apartment and sink down onto my bed, I’ll be out like a light.

I suppose I have a right to my exhaustion. Between football, stressing over the situation with Knox, and now chasing after a girl, it makes sense I could use a little sleep.

When I told Lane I hardly had any free time to spare, I wasn’t lying. A college athlete’s schedule makes me wonder how the hell any of the guys can even find the time to date during August through January. Then again, most of my teammates are either already in a relationship or only care about no-strings hookups. Now I understand why.

Every morning, I wake around five-thirty, take a shower and examine my life choices while I eat breakfast, then get my shit together for the day. By six-thirty, I’m in the gym working on strength and conditioning with the boys. Afterward, I have just enough time to shower and hightail my ass to class.

A little after one o’clock, I get a break to take lunch, and then most days, we watch game film from two to two-thirty in the afternoon. By then, it’s time to get taped up before practice where Coach beats our asses into the ground for the next two and a half hours, sometimes more if we need extra training or skill work.

Depending on the day, we wrap up around six or six-thirty, which gives my hangry ass time to eat something and do schoolwork before my head hits the pillow.

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