Page 83 of Hard Check

I yelped and twisted away. A brief, flailing wrestling match ensued—half-hearted grappling and giggling threats. Carver pinned my wrists above my head and leaned in like he was about to deliver a dominant proclamation.

Instead, he kissed the tip of my nose.

I blinked up at him. "What the hell was that?"

"Intimidation tactic. Did it work?"

"Hard to say. It might require further testing."

Carver released my wrists only and slid his hands down my arms. He whispered in my ear. "I like this version of us—the one that laughs."

"We always laughed, even when we were pretending not to fall for each other."

He dropped a kiss onto my collarbone. "Yeah, but now I don't feel like I'm gonna get benched for liking you too much."

"You like me?"

"Oh, shut up."

"No, seriously. Youlikeme— in that way?" I batted my lashes. "Are we gonna hold hands in the hallway tomorrow? Pass notes? Write each other's numbers on our sticks?"

He rolled his eyes and reached for the massage oil again. "You keep talking, and I will find out what happens when I use this on yourfeet."

I gasped. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would. And you're ticklish. Remember that."

I tried to scramble away, but he caught me again, and before I knew it, we were tangled up in another burst of fingers teasing and lips finding places we hadn't gotten to yet.

Later—when the laughter had quieted, and the room had gone still except for our breathing—we lay facing each other, noses almost touching.

"You good?" Carver asked, voice thick with sleep.

"More than," I whispered. "We're not hiding anymore."

"Damn right, we're not. Took us long enough."

I traced the line of his jaw with one finger. "No more shadows."

"Not with you."

Carver drifted, breathing deeply and even against my shoulder, but not quite asleep. One arm remained draped across my chest, fingers splayed over my ribs. Every few minutes, his thumb would move in a lazy circle as if he were reassuring himself that I was still there.

"You're thinking too loud," he mumbled against my collarbone.

"Can't help it. My brain won't shut up."

"What's it saying?"

I considered the question, trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts and emotions that had been churning since we'd left Coach's office. "That this might be real. We might actually have a shot at something lasting."

His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. "Scared?"

"Terrified, but for once, I feel like I'm beginning to plan for success."

"Success," he repeated. "What does that look like?"

"I don't know yet, but maybe that's okay. Maybe we can figure it out as we go."

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