Page 42 of Flame After the Fumble

Hartley: Who cares?

Me: I do.

Hartley: Please. It’ll help my bruises heal.

Me: Why are you so difficult?

Hartley’s name flashes across the screen with another FaceTime call. I inhale a deep breath and click the green accept button. I was not prepared for what’s across my screen. Ashirtless Hartley, sprawled across white sheets with one arm behind his head and the other holding the phone up.

“Goldie.” His hooded eyes boar daggers through my defenses. The intimacy of the moment grabs hold of my skin as heat flares across my face. “You’re so pretty.”

“Stop.” My eyes tear away from his as I’m reminded what I look like in hot pink pajamas, messy wet hair, and a bare face free of makeup. “I’m not pretty after a shower.”

He raises himself off the pillow, grimacing when he shifts to put pressure on his bruised hip. “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

“It’s a simple fact.”

“You,” he runs a hand down his sleepy face, “looking like that,” he breathes in and releases, “are what my dreams are made of, and they’re anything but innocent.”

My hand grips the desk chair, as I fight the natural attraction I have to this man. I swallow twice before continuing. “Did you call to feed me compliments all night?”

Letting out a small chuckle, he shakes his head in disagreement. “No. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” My hand clamps over my mouth, but it’s already too late to take back the traitorous admission I made. “I meant. . . it’s lonely here without you constantly annoying me.”

He groans and positions himself back on the pillow. “Call it what you want.”

I need to change the subject. “What do y’all usually do after away games? I’m surprised the team isn’t out at one of the bars after the big win.”

“They are.”

My nose scrunches up in confusion. Hartley is the life of the party, not the homebody who returns to his room for an early night in. “Why aren’t you?”

“The only thing I could think about was taking a hot shower and talking to you.”

Layne would never skip a party, even when I begged him a time or ten. “Since when do you skip a night of celebratory drinking?”

He yawns and stretches his arm above him, putting his giant muscles on full display just for my viewing. “Since you.”

28

Liza

My feelings are still under lock and key. I haven’ttechnicallyavoided Hartley since he came back from his road game last weekend, but I’ve also made zero effort to see him. He’s texted me more than a handful of times asking to hang out, but I’ve come up with a believable excuse every single time. Strolling into Starbucks on winter break has become my routine. I welcome the five person deep line in front of me. It gives me a chance to mindlessly scroll social media and catch up on my missed texts. Besides my fellow coffee lovers, campus has been a ghost town. Most college students leave for break and come back well into the new year, but not me.

My mom jet set off to Europe with her boyfriend, and my dad has his head buried so far into work that he probably doesn’t even realize it’s the holidays. Luckily, my sister begged Dad enough to convince him to buy her a plane ticket to spend the holidays with me. She’s set to land tonight, and I’m itching to hug her again. The line continues to scoot up slowly. Grabbing my phone, I check the notifications that have been buzzing in my pocket.

Willow: I’m soooooo excited to spend the week with you!! Can you believe Dad actually went for this?!

Me too, girl.

Hartley: If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re avoiding me.

Hartley: I miss you, Goldie.

My heart accelerates in my chest. I miss him, too, but I’m terrified to see him. Seeing him flusters me in the best and worst way, causing me to forget all the reasons we shouldn’t date. Admitting my feelings means opening up my heart again. Opening up my heart again means giving another man the power to shatter it. I know I can’t avoid him forever, so I bite the bullet and reply.

Me: Avoiding is too strong of a word.

---