Page 135 of Shut Up and Score
Colton’s arm tightens around my waist, his breath warm against my temple. “Yeah.”
I stare at the ceiling, my mind racing even though my body’s still heavy and loose from everything we’ve done—everything we’ve said. “Your mom invitedmeto dinner.”
He hums, as if it’s no big deal. Like my whole world hasn’t just shifted an inch to the left.
“You gonna make me stand on the porch like I’m back in high school?” I ask, because the joke’s easier than admitting how much this is getting to me. How it still feels surreal.
Colton snorts into my shoulder. “Nah. You’re getting the full welcome this time. No sneaking in through the garage.”
My chest tightens. I turn my face toward his and find him already looking at me, eyes soft and steady.
“I’ll even let you use the real bathroom,” he adds, grinning now.
I bark a surprised laugh. “What, no more sending me to the one with the broken handle and the towel that smells like mildew?”
“That wasmytowel, thank you very much.”
We’re both smiling now, easy and unguarded. And I don’t miss the way his thumb drags slowly across my hip, unable to stop touching me.
My throat goes tight. I shift a little closer, resting my forehead against his. “You really did it,” I whisper.
He nods. “Yeah. I did.”
Silence settles again, softer this time. And it hits me—reallyhits me—that he chose me. That hekeepschoosing me. That maybe all those years I thought I was the only one who felt this way… I wasn’t.
I tilt my head and press a kiss to the top of his hair.
He sighs. “Don’t freak out again tomorrow, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to. But because I know how many years I’ve spent building walls that I didn’t think could come down.
Still…I glance at the bruises I left on his throat. At the way he fits against me.
“I promise,” I whisper. “No more hiding.”
His smile is slow and real and everything I was afraid to believe I could have.
THIRTY-FIVE
COLTON
The restof the week flies by in a blur of football practice, teasing grins, stolen touches, and nights tangled in Micah’s sheets. Everything isMicah. He’s in my head, under my skin, filling every space I didn’t realize was empty.
We haven’t told the team we’re together, not officially. But I’m pretty sure they know. It’s in the way we look at each other. The way we don’t bother scrambling apart when one of us tackles the other during drills. Like wewantthe contact. Like weneedit.
I know Caleb’s noticed I haven’t been around. He even told me to give him a heads-up if I planned to be at the dorm. He’s enjoying the extra privacy just as much as I’m enjoying waking up in Micah’s bed.
And that’s where I am now—Sunday morning, sunlight sliding across his ceiling, warm and familiar. He’s draped over me, snoring softly, one leg tossed over mine, claiming territory even in sleep.
I run my fingers slowly through his hair and press a kiss to his forehead.
I love the quiet moments almost as much as I love his filthy mouth.
“Hey,” I whisper into his hair, my voice barely a breath. “Sun’s up.”
