Page 65 of Flag On The Play
NOVA
My apartment smells like popcorn, cheap wine, and the cinnamon candle Delaney insists on lighting every time she comes over. Roxy is sprawled across my couch in leggings and a cropped hoodie, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Delaney is curled up in the armchair with a glass of red wine and that knowing smile she always wears when I’m talking about Finlay.
Which, apparently, is a lot lately.
“He flew me to Boston just because I mentioned I’d never been,” I say, tucking my legs under me on the couch. “We had dinner overlooking the harbor, and he surprised me with tickets to a jazz show after. Who even does that?”
Delaney sighs, dreamy and soft. “Romantic quarterbacks, apparently.”
“He’s setting the bar dangerously high for the rest of us,” Roxy mutters, reaching for the popcorn bowl. “I might have to start dating in the Gridiron Warriors Football League just to keep up.”
I laugh and toss a kernel at her. “I’m serious, though. He’s not who I thought he’d be. I mean, yeah, he’s hot and cockyand still has that smug Finlay smirk sometimes, but underneath that?” I shake my head. “He’s sweet. He’s spontaneous. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.”
Delaney’s brows lift slightly. “Like what?”
“Like,” I pause, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “Like I’m not just a good time. Like I’m not broken or temporary. Like I matter.”
That earns a low whistle from Roxy. “Shit. You’re gone for this man.”
“I know,” I say, flopping back dramatically against the cushions. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, but it already feels like he’s just part of my life now. The way he shows up for me, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the damn room.” I groan into a pillow. “And don’t even get me started on the sex.”
“I’m going to need you to get started on the sex,” Roxy says, wagging her wine glass at me. “It’s what I live for.”
I smirk, pushing my hair off my face. “It’s mind-blowing. Like, toe-curling, soul-leaving-my-body, fully speaking-in-tongues kind of sex.”
Roxy fans herself. “Lucky bitch.”
Delaney giggles. “You’re glowing, Nova.”
I glance toward my phone on the coffee table, tempted to check for a message even though I know he’s on a plane. “I’ve never had this before,” I admit, quieter now. “This happiness. This kind of connection. We grew up side by side and somehow turned into strangers. I had him pegged as this arrogant, clueless jock back in high school.”
“To be fair,” Roxy says, “hewasan arrogant, clueless jock.”
“Exactly,” I laugh. “But he’s not that guy anymore. He’s grown up. He listens. He sees me. And he makes me feel safe.” I look at both of them, my heart beating a little harder. “It should terrify me, but it doesn’t. Not the way I thought it would.”
Roxy’s grin softens. “You deserve this, babe.”
Delaney nods. “You really do.”
I curl my fingers around my wine glass and glance at my phone again.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I just feel happy.
My phone buzzes on the table, and I don’t even think. I launch for it like it might disappear, and in the process, my elbow knocks my wine glass. Red wine splashes across the blanket and the floor like a murder scene.
“Jesus, Nova!” Roxy laughs, snatching her legs away from the spill. “You can’t tell me you’re not whipped.”
“I’m not whipped,” I say, already grabbing paper towels from the counter. “I’m just highly invested.”
Delaney smirks. “Highly invested in that man’s face. And abs. And other assets.”
I stick my tongue out at her and drop back on the couch, phone in hand, my cheeks already heating.
Finlay: Just landed. Exhausted. Gonna crash hard. Call you in the morning, baby.
God, even over text, he makes my heart race.
