Page 40 of Let You Love Me

We’re not going with anything.

Jace:

Fine. It’s a fucking plan.

Chris:

Operation Friends-To-Lovers for the win. On three. Ready? ONE!

Jace:

TWO!

Atlas:

I’m not doing this.

Chris:

THREE!

I jog onto the field with my helmet in hand. I busted my ass getting here early so I could talk to Lane before practice, but as I exit the tunnel, I catch sight of her and my stomach lurches.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with a plan to get to her before practice, because she’s not alone.

I slow my stride and curse under my breath as Chance Lockhart closes in on her.

Turning, I nod my head in greeting to Mark, but I’m distracted, and I can’t seem to help myself from turning my attention back to Lane.

The stiff set of her spine, her tightly crossed arms, and the flattening of her lips indicate she’s pissed off. I don’t need to be an expert in body language to see it, and though it should bring me some sense of relief that she’s not pleased to be the center of his attention, it doesn’t. Instead, my head is flooded with a myriad of questions, things I want to know but can’t ask.

I try not to watch them as I stretch, but my gaze gravitates toward her regardless.

What the hell is he doing talking to her?

Do they know each other?

Of course they do. Her father coached their high school team before getting the gig at Cumberland, which means they went to school together.

Grinding my teeth, I turn away from them when I can no longer take the rapid-fire thoughts.

I have zero right to be jealous. It’s no secret Chance and Coach Turner are tight, so it would stand to reason Lane has some form of relationship with him. And it’s none of my business what the parameters of it are. I promised Lane friendship, and there’s no room for jealousy among friends.

For the sake of the cause, I swallow over the hot, sticky feelings swirling in my gut.

I’m more than frustrated when practice starts before I get the chance to talk to her, and by the time it ends, the effort to focus on anything but her nearly kills me.

She steps onto the field as the guys amble off, some shooting subtle glances in her direction as she helps Mark with the tackle dummies and strike shields.

The second Coach called practice to an end, he made a beeline for the tunnel to his office, so I know it’s safe to approach as I jog toward her. Even if it weren’t, I’m not sure I’d care.

Once I reach her, I draw in a breath and steady my racing heart. “Hey.”

Lane glances over her shoulder and though she shakes her head, I take the subtle quirk of her lips as a good sign. “No tire flipping today?”

“Uh,” I laugh and scratch my head, “no. I think I’ll try and stay out of trouble, make that a onetime thing.”

She helps Mark load the last strike shield onto his truck, then turns, her blue eyes sparkling as she says, “That’s probably wise.”

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