Page 64 of Love at Second Down

Or at least it was.

But now I don’t know if I can go back to not having her.

Yet I’m equally as uncertain whether I can risk losing her again.

I’m stuck in limbo, where loving her feels like breathing, but the fear of breaking all over again feels like dying.

All of this at the worst possible time, too.

Monday is the National Championship game—the most important game of my football career thus far—and even though it’s only Wednesday, in twenty-four hours, I’ll be headed to Houston, Texas to prepare for the biggest game of my career.

Now is not the time for distractions.

My focus should be on football. On breath work and game tape. On passing game-throwing perfect spirals and looking for the gap. Anything and everything except the girl beside me.

I drag a hand over the back of my neck, trying to redirect my focus to the front of the room. It’s a seemingly impossible feat when I’m hyperaware of her every movement.

I steal a glance at her notes and grimace. Apparently, I’m the only one who can’t focus because they’re meticulously organized with color-coded highlights and neat handwriting that puts my chaotic scribbling to shame. Before I know it, the students around me are packing up their things. The scraping sound of chairs and shuffling papers surround me, and when I glance around the room, disoriented and wondering how the hell nearly an hour went by so fast, Karr reminds us of the quiz next week.

Shit.

“You missed a lot,” Avery whispers, glancing over at my notes.

I stare at the pitiful paper in front of me, only half full and barely legible, then sink a hand into my hair and mumble, “Yeah, I, uh . . . might’ve drifted off.”

“I can let you borrow my notes,” she says with a small smile. “I mean, if you want them.”

I nod and find myself, once again, staring at her mouth. “Yeah.” I swallow. “Yeah, um, that would be great.”

What the hell is wrong with me?

The tiny smile curling her lips spreads as she rises from her seat, and I feel like I’ve gained something I didn’t know I needed. “Great.”

Standing, I begin to gather up my things, in no hurry to get out of here. I’m relieved to see she must feel the same as I sling my backpack over my shoulder. “So, I was just headed to grab a coffee before practice. Want to join me?”

“Actually, I was just headed that way. My shift starts in ten, so I can’t join you, but I can walk with you.”

“Yeah, okay.” I nod, lost in her whiskey-hewn depths as I fall into step beside her.

We push our way outside, and despite the cloudless sky and the sun shining brightly, the cold air bites at my cheeks. My breath puffs out in front of me as I tuck my hands into the pockets of my coat, noting the way Avery hunches her shoulders against the wind as we fall into step together, our strides matching naturally as we navigate the crowded campus sidewalk.

“So,” she begins, her voice soft but clear against the background noise of passing students. “Does this mean you’re done with your coffee boycott?”

I snort and shake my head slightly. “Am I that obvious?”

“More like habitual. When you didn’t show up again after that first day I saw you at work, I figured you somehow managed to get my schedule or were avoiding Java the Hutt altogether.”

I scratch my head, cheeks turning pink at being called out. “Uh, yeah. Avoiding it altogether would be accurate, and let me just say, my roommate’s coffee isnotthe same.”

She grins, drawing my gaze before she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “When you didn’t show up at class on Monday, I thought maybe you were still avoiding me.”

“I just needed to think,” I admit. “Lucky for me the boycott is over, I guess.”

Avery’s gaze heats. “I think you mean, lucky forme,” she says before she playfully bumps me with her shoulder. “It would be nice to see your face while I’m at work.”

“Just while you’re at work?” I ask with a wink.

“Still a shameless flirt, I see?”

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