Page 69 of Keep Me Never
Instantly, my eyes slice to the left, to the few rows of bleachers near the forty-yard line, where all the girls are studying, a constant in our lives, silent support but support nonetheless, but this time is different.
This time, one of the girls sitting there is mine.
Shiny blond hair blowing lightly in the October air, and a fluffy blanket pulled up to her shoulders, she stares right at me, not a book in sight.
My grin is wide, and she tips her little head.
If I were closer, I bet I’d find her biting on her lip, blushing, and when I draw attention to it, it would spread. Down her neck and chest and under her shirt.
I wonder how far it would reach.
Will her whole body change colors for me if I treat it just right?
Would she let me?
Would she make that same sound if I?—
“Harper!” My name is barked, and my attention yanks in that direction. Shit. The team is starting to line up for our warm-ups.
I jolt forward, jogging to where I’m required, and when I hear my boys laughing from down the line, I smirk around my mouth guard.
Yes, Brady. I would definitely be the icing on that sweet little cake.
The next two hours fly by, and by the end of it, I’m sweating like crazy, my legs playing tricks on me with how loose they are when I know they’ll be tight as hell later if I don’t drop into the ice bath before I make my way out of here.
I throw myself onto the bench, my chest heaving as I take my helmet off and accept the water jug Mase passes my way.
“You’re fucking fast, man. Maybe Mr. Carlson was right, and you should have run track.”
I laugh, almost choking on the water, and bend quickly so it doesn’t spill over my lap. “I haven’t thought about that old asshole since the eighth grade.”
“Me either.” He smiles. “I don’t know why it popped into my head.”
Brady falls at our feet. Literally, he lies on the turf, arms and legs out wide. “I swear to shit, if Richardson is the reason we geta single fucking flag on Saturday for being offside, I will personally piss in his pineapple Gatorade.”
“That what was going on over there?” I pull my pads over my head, swiping a towel across my forehead. “It sounded like you were getting reamed for that short route they scored on us with last week.”
“That was how it began. Then we started running some of the new plays, and that little fucker was flying off the line like there was an actual offense across from us and not just a damn bag. And early. Like seven fucking times in two dozen snaps. Coach made us do a million bear crawls and I’m too buff for that shit.”
We chuckle, going silent a moment to catch our breath as most of the field clears, our teammates heading into the locker room. But it’s almost always like this, me and my boys being the last on the field at the end of the day, give or take a few, depending.
Brady cracks an eye open, squinting up at me. “So what’s up, man? You gonna do it or what?”
“Do what?”
“You know, christen the spot like the rest of us did, Noah included.”
My brows pull, not following, and I look between my friends. It’s clear Mason gets it, his grin growing by the second.
Brady kicks me, and I scowl. He jerks his head toward the stands. “She’s still sitting there.”
My eyes fly up, and sure enough, she’s there, leaning on her elbows, staring this way. They’re all there, in fact, and I realize what he’s referring to.
Would she want that? Me to make a scene out here, for all to see, where everyone would find out all at once what we’ve become?
That she’s mine.
Heat spreads low in my core at the thought.
