Page 37 of The Game Plan
Home. She called the apartmenthome. A dozen different answers catch in my throat—none of them appropriate. Because the only kind of hunger I’m thinking about right now has nothing to do with food.
But I nod, trying to focus on anything but how her body curves into mine, or how right this feels.
“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Let's go home.”
Because if we stay in this store any longer, I’m going to do something stupid.
Like kiss her again.
“If you were on death row, what would your last meal be?”
She snorts, tipping her head back. “That’s dark.”
“Says the girl who watchesCriminal Mindsfor fun,” I grumble under my breath. She shoves my shoulder, not missing the comment. “C’mon, it’s important information.”
Her lips twitch as she takes another large bite of lemon cheesecake ice cream. I didn’t even know this flavor existed, but leave it to Target to surprise me with random flavors. “Okay. I would totally pick fried chicken. Mashed potatoes and gravy.Chicken and noodles with a side of macaroni and cheese. And for dessert, peach cobbler with homemade vanilla ice cream.” She ticks each item off with her fingers, and I swear I see drool nearly escape her mouth.
“Damn,” I say with a nod. “Now I want that for dinner this week.”
She nods with a cocky smirk, like her meal was the best option. “What about you?”
“Easy. Give me a tomahawk steak. Mashed potatoes and gravy, same as you. Green bean casserole with fried onions. And a layered chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.”
Savannah gives me a slow, approving nod, like we both passed some kind of secret test. “I can’t lie; I’d be down for that too.”
We fall into a comfortable silence as she clicks the ‘continue watching’ button on the TV. Everything about tonight has gone smoothly—simple, yet perfect. Since Savannah didn’t want to go out to eat, we came home from Target to find something here.
Earlier tonight, while she changed into comfy clothes, I raided the fridge to see what I had to cook for dinner. I found some leftover chicken, a new block of cheese, a jar of homemade salsa, and a few limes. Digging through the pantry, I spotted a fresh package of tortillas and decided quesadillas were the move. A little fiesta for the two of us.
If being in Savannah’s presence wasn’t torture enough, hearing her moan through dinner definitely was. With every bite, she’d let out this soft groan, and I swear I was rock hard the entire time. She’s always had this effect on me, and it’s only gotten worse with her living here. I’m trying my damndest to keep things amicable between us, but hell, my body remembers what it feels like to be inside her. And it’s been months since I’ve been with a woman, which means I’m even more desperate for her.
We talked about everything over dinner. Her weird cravings for all things lemon, which came out of nowhere since she was never a huge lemon fan, to different baby names. I couldn’t believe the list of names she had in her notes app. But none of them were saying ‘pick me’ to her. Savannah wants something meaningful—whether it be the name’s meaning or in her life.
The conversation shifted to me—how I was liking my job. To say I love it would be an understatement. There’s no greater feeling than helping an athlete work through a play or push themselves to the next level in the weight room. Seeing their faces brighten with determination is a gift. I told her about the freshman wide receiver who’s slotted to take my place. It’s weird to have someone coming into my spot after I was the starting wide receiver for the last four years. I think he’s going to be even better than I was, if only he’d keep the noise from the media out of his head.
After dinner, when our plates were cleared and the kitchen cleaned, we settled in on the couch—where we are now—to watch, you guessed it,Criminal Minds. For the past hour, we’ve fallen into comfortable silence, watching the latest serial killer try to get away with their crimes. That is, until one of us has something random pop into our heads and we blurt out what we’re thinking. It’s an old game we’ve played over the years, and it’s been a fun way to get reacquainted. It’s our own version of 21 Questions.
“Alright, I’ve got one,” Sav says, grinning. “What’s a super random thing you’ve always wanted to learn, but haven’t yet, or you’re too scared to go through with it?”
I lean back, thinking. Shit, this is a tough one. For most of my life, football has consumed me. Training, playing, and now coaching. But what’s something else I’d want to learn?
“Learn how to fly.”
Sav’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
I nod. “It’s always been something that interests me, but I’m terrified.”
“I think you’d make an incredible pilot.”
I smile softly as images of flying us around the country, visiting new places, flash through my mind. “Would you survive the zombie apocalypse?”
“Hell no,” Savannah answers without hesitation. “Zombies take over the world, I’m going out first. No way am I living off the land and trying not to get bitten.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously! Especially if the zombies are fast like those fuckers onThe Last of Us.”
“Wait.” I whip my head in her direction. “You’ve seenThe Last of Us?”
