Page 52 of Third and Ten

She nods without turning around, and I think I hear her sniffling. “Mom?”

“Yeah, okay. Give Ethan a good-luck kiss for me,” she finally replies as she faces me, her eyes still red-rimmed.

“What’s wrong?” I take a few steps toward her, but she rushes past me.

“I just…I’m sorry,” she replies, forcing a smile. “I overstepped again.”

“It’s okay. I know you just want to help.”

She nods. “You’d better get going if you want decent parking or a good spot in the bleachers. I’m sure it’ll be packed out there. I’ll see you when you get back.”

I grab my purse from the kitchen before I go, still reeling from everything my parents have said in the past half-hour. I guess I can appreciate where they’re coming from. They’ve had a great marriage and simply want the same for me, and they’re probably both feeling sentimental with my dad living out his last days. I just don’t understand why they think I can’t be happy with the life I have, or that dating JD will suddenly change all my plans and priorities.

Besides, JD deserves better, I tell myself as I get to the football field. He’s worthy of a relationship based on something more meaningful than physical attraction or convenience. While I can’t offer him that, I am certain there are plenty of other women willing to try.

And, speaking of the devil…

I haven’t seen JD much over the past week or so, though we’ve been trading some friendly and borderline suggestive texts in between the busyness of homecoming. But something flitters around inside my stomach when I find him standing in the center of a crowd on the sidelines. A few of his old friends must be in town for the festivities, and it looks like he’s regaling them with a story, laughing and waving his hands animatedly and holding his audience captive. His coaching headset hangs around his neck, but he’s missing his trademark ball cap tonight, and I notice his hair looking a little longer than I’m used to seeing it.

It’s cute. He’s cute.

I sigh, willing myself to look away. But then his eyes meet mine for a second, and he literally does a double take to shoot me a wide smile. I involuntarily simper back at him, tugging on the waistband of my shirt self-consciously. His eyes travel down my body and up again, his smile fading into something more heated, and his gaze forces my heart to beat a little faster before he turns his attention back to the group. After his confession the other day, I assume he isn’t disgusted by what he sees. I hope he isn’t, anyway—a realization that honestly scares me a little.

I blow out a frustrated breath and walk toward the concession stand to get myself a bottle of water. I swivel when I feel a hand on my arm.

“Hey,” JD says, having left behind his fan club. “Everything all right?”

Besides needing to tell my stomach to stop with the fluttering, already?

“Sure, I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “You looked a little upset when you walked by.”

“Oh, I just…I have a lot on my mind.” I force a small smile.

“Was your dad feeling okay today?”

I study him for a second before I answer. “He’s good. Actually, he wanted me to wish you luck if I saw you before the game, so…”

“And what about your, um, tight Aunt Tenley shirt?” he asks, gesturing over his chest. “How’s she doing?”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms, equal parts surprised by his cheekiness and amused by the apparent success of my mom’s little stunt. “She’s fine. Living out her retirement in the back of my closet. Thanks for asking.”

“Would you let her know I miss seeing her around?”

“I really set myself with that whole boob-jokes clause, didn’t I?”

“I’d tell you I’ve been spending some time trying to come up with new material, but then you might assume I’ve also been thinking about your amazing rack all day, and I wouldn’t want to make you feel weird about our new dynamic or anything.”

“You could just swear you haven’t been doing that, and I’d believe you, thereby salvaging our friendship.”

Ope. Am I flirting back?

“But honesty is important between friends, isn’t it?” he returns, smirking. “And I did promise to make those mental images of you in that black bra last me a while.” He leans closer, whispering the last part and making me squirm.

I uncross my arms and roll my shoulders back as I stuff my hands in my back pockets. “You mean, the one I’m wearing now?” I ask innocently. His eyes widen, and his jaw goes slack. “Though, I have to admit, just between us, the lace is a little scratchy,” I add, reaching up to tug on one of the straps and letting it audibly snap for good measure.

Whoa. Did I really just say and do all that?

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