Page 91 of Love at Second Down

“I’m glad you did,” she says, her hazel eyes locked on mine.

We sit there like that for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes, with me wishing more than anything that I knew what she’s thinking. “Rock, Paper, Scissors for a question?” I ask, surprising myself.

Her eyes brighten, and I see she hasn’t forgotten this game we used to play, where the winner gets a question.

“Okay,” she says, her voice soft. “Ready?” She lifts her hand, and I nod.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” I throw rock at the same time she makes scissors with her fingers.

I grin triumphantly, and she groans. “Okay, what’s your question?”

I could ask anything. There are a million things I want to know. Where does she see this going? She said she wants me back, but does she still love me like I love her? Like nothing’s changed? Do her parents know about us? What will she do when?and it’s inevitable that it will be a when?they push back?

But instead of these things, I find myself asking, “Are you seeing anyone else?”

She blinks as if taken aback, and for a minute, I feel guilty for asking the question. Still, I don’t want to make assumptions. She has no reason to be loyal to me. We’ve made no promises to each other, no commitments since she broke them years ago.

Her brow creases as she shakes her head. “Why would you even think that?”

I sigh, feeling like an asshole as I drag a hand over the back of my neck. “I don’t. I just . . .”

The muscle in my jaw works before I drop my hand and meet her gaze again. “You don’t owe me anything. Just because you came to Houston to watch me play doesn’t mean things will change and I . . .” I trail off, growling when the words won’t come. “Look, I saw that text from Travis the other day outside Java, and I didn’t mean to snoop, but I’m not an idiot, and I’m not blind. I know how amazing you are, how beautiful. He and every other guy on campus would be a fool not to go after you, and I was just wondering if . . . well, I thought maybe you might be into him. That maybe something’s there.”

Avery shoves the pillow in her arms aside, so there’s nothing in between us as she scootches closer to me on the bed, reaching for my hand. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Travis. That whole date was just a ploy to get close to you, and, yeah, he texted me afterward, wanting to hang out, but I told him no. More than that, I told him I was into you, because I meant it when I said I came back for you Damon, and nothing and no one is going to change that.”

Not even your father?

I stare at her, wanting to believe her, until I realize I do. The truth is in her eyes as much as it is in her actions. Even if I don’t believe my dad has anything against Reginald Astor, she does. Her father has convinced her that I’m a risk she can’t take, thatby being with me, she’s putting her father and her family’s legacy in jeopardy, along with Katie’s future.

Yet she’s here, anyway.

She gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it with a playful scoff. “What an easy question. But it’s my turn. Ready to lose, QB?” she asks, raising her fist once more.

I snort, allowing myself to relax as she calls out, “Rock, papers, scissors, shoot!”

This time she wins with a paper to my rock. “What’s the real reason you couldn’t sleep tonight?” she asks, wasting no time getting to the point.

My gaze rakes over her face, focusing on her pouty lips. “You. I don’t think I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep since you’ve moved to AAU.”

She frowns, and the urge to wipe it away with a kiss overwhelms me.

“That sounds . . . not good,” she says.

“It’s torture,” I say with a smile, “but not for the reasons you think.”

“Then what are the reasons?”

“That’s another question.” I wink, and she groans, then holds out her fist.

After I call it, she wins once again with a triumphant whoop. “What are these reasons, QB?”

I inhale, wondering how much I should say, afraid I’ll scare her off. But, I decide to tell her the truth. “Because all I can think about when I lie awake at night is you. How much I want you even though I shouldn’t. How much I still fucking care after all this time. How beautiful you are. How fucking perfect.”

“I’m not perfect,” she whispers. “I think I’ve shown you that.”

I shake my head, a nearly perceptible motion. “Maybe.”

“But I do think we’re perfect when we’re together.”

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