Zach’s grin grows. “You’d really want to?” The way he asks nearly breaks my heart.
It’s no secret that I’ve tried to stay in the background as much as possible when it comes to Zach’s football career. I sit out most home games or watch them from inside the marketing suite, firmly away from the student section.
It’s not Zach’s fault—it’s just… the whispers and the comments. They bring me right back to the place I was in high school, and I hate it.
“Definitely,” I say, knowing how much this means to him.
“Then I'd love to have you there.” He’s grinning wide, and I can’t help it. My heart skips a little beat. He bites his bottom lip before looking straight into the camera. “I’m going to put this out there, but I’m not averse to you wearing one of my jerseys.”
I let out a small laugh, looking down at the white and blue practice jersey I’m currently wearing. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen. It needs to be washed before I can walk around campus in it.”
“It doesn’t need to be cleaned,” he says, unbothered.
“Zach, it reeks of sex.”
“Correction: it reeks of sexwith me.”
I nod, giving him a bemused smile. “When did you become so possessive?”
“The minute Jamie offered me the full cost of the bet to leave you alone.”
My brows furrow. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, did I forget to tell you that little tidbit about your ex?”
“You absolutely did not mention that.”
“Yeah, well, I guess he saw what was coming before we did,” Zach says, his voice quieter now. “Didn’t want me taking away his golden ticket to the family dynasty.”
He pauses, his jaw tight, then he looks straight at the screen.
“Not that it matters. We found each other anyway, and I wantyouthere. Inmyjersey.” His tone shifts. “Not for show. Not to prove a point. Just… because it’s yours, and it always will be.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Perfect. All right, I’m going to find Reese. I’ll see you later, Honeycomb.”
“Love you.” I blow him a kiss, which he pretends to catch with his teeth, and he takes a smug slurp of his drink before hanging up.
Dragging myself out of bed, I grab my shower caddy and head down the hallway. The music is blaring from the shared bathroom as I pass the rows of cubicles.
Taken.
Taken.
Taken.
Finally, the last stall in the corner is free.
I slip inside, pull the curtain shut behind me, and wash away the sleep, the soreness, and the lingering scent of Zach. I take my time, letting the water pound my back, hoping it will make the pain from the mattress go away.
It doesn’t. It never has, yet I persist in believing that one day it might.
Wringing out my hair, I finish up and turn the shower off before wrapping a towel around my body. At this point, the music has stopped, and the only noise I can hear is a few footsteps further down the bathroom.
“Yeah, I heard themagainlast night,” one of the girls whispers, irritation dripping from her voice. The hairs on the back of my neck rise because I know they’re talking about me. I just know it.
I lean in toward the curtain, careful not to make a sound.