Page 82 of Game On
I nod toward the blanket brigade, who offer a smattering of applause, more enthusiastic now that they’ve seen us perfect most of it. “Let’s go again. We’ll nail it today. Then we can show Morgan before practice tomorrow.”
Ella nods, squaring her shoulders as we prepare for another round. This time, the routine feels nearly perfect. There’s no hesitation in her jumps, no uncertainty in my catches. We hit a double up, flow into a one-arm rewind, and execute four more high-level stunts with a precision that feels like second nature now.
We finish, and even from across the park, Gabi and Sammy cheer for us—real ones this time.
Ella’s chest heaves with exertion, but her eyes are bright. “That felt a lot better.”
“It did,” I agree, my own heart racing not just from the physical exertion but from the rush of a flawless execution. “That was it. That’s what we need to show Morgan.”
It’s obvious how in sync we are. How seamlessly we move together. Ella knows it, and so do I. She stares at me for a beat, smooths her hands over her hair, and falters.
I curve my hand around her waist, savoring the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her top. “Are you feeling good about this?” I ask in a low voice.
She nods slowly, her breath still coming in short bursts. “Yeah, I am.”
These practice sessions, the need to anticipate each other’s moves, has drawn us closer in ways I hadn’t expected. It’s a quiet intensity. Every touch, every fleeting glance, carries a new weight. But it’s more than justthe routine; it’s the connection we’re building, the trust we’re forging.
Her eyes flicker to my hand on her waist, and for a moment I see a vulnerability there. It’s a raw sort of openness that makes my chest tighten. I give her a reassuring squeeze, and she relaxes slightly, leaning into me.
“Good,” I say softly. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“It helps that you’re incredible at this. Like, oddly so,” she admits, though it sounds like it costs her something to say it.
I laugh. “Oh, don’t think you can charm your way into my pants.”
She shoves me gently, a mock scowl on her face. “You always have to ruin it, don’t you, Fox?”
“Keeps you on your toes, though,” I say, grinning.
“Unnecessary.”
“A requirement of our deal, actually.”
“Speaking of.” She raises an eyebrow. “We should probably set some real ground rules now that circumstances have changed.”
“Here?” I glance over at our laughing friends, Ash and Luke now sprawled across the picnic blanket, too. “Now?”
“No, but … before the break? You’re headed home to Texas, yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Levi, too. Just for a few days,” I tell her. “We can talk before then. Lay out all the rules.”
She purses her lips, and scarlet heat warms her cheeks. “For one, we probably shouldn’t be sleeping together while we’re training.”
“No problem. I’ll just go down on you for a few months.”
“I’m serious.”
My insides turn over. “Is that what you want, then? For us to stop hooking up?”
“I—I don’t know. Let me think on it for a bit?”
I brush a lock of hair away from her eyes. “Alright. You think on it. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t stop. No question there. So just let me know what you want, Davies, and I’ll be that for you.”
“I will,” she says, and then she turns to go.
I watch her walk away, her figure silhouetted against the setting sun. She’s glowing in the same way she always does—radiant, effortlessly captivating. And when she sits down with our friends, I know she’ll pretend she didn’t just reach a hand into my gut and twist it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
