May 28th
Last night.
Ainsley
No idea why I’m up so early this morning. Might be because I can’t wait to see Damon. I probably shouldn’t have left him in the tent by himself last night, but we had both fallen asleep, and I was afraid if I woke him up, I’d do something I might regret.
But last night …
I sigh happily and try to remember the last time I took that kind of time with a guy.
Which is basically never.
Everything with Brad was slightly awkward, as it was our first time, and everything since has been more of a one-night-stand version. Hot and heavy. Then just over.
Last night was a lot of touching, feeling, and kissing. I’m literally obsessed with Damon.
With his skin. The way his mouth curls up when he’s trying to hold back a smirk. The little freckle I discovered under his left ear. It’s like I’m Christopher Columbus and I’m trying to make a map of the new world.
Like I need to record it all in my brain so that I won’t forget.
And it feels luxurious. Timeless. Like there’s no rush.
I said that to him last night, and he muttered something romantic about when things are right, there’s no need to rush.
Which, in boy language, for me, seems like a bit of a commitment. A promise. A vow that he won’t hurt me. That this isn’t just a vacation fling.
Which, crazily enough, was all I wanted. But the truth is, I’m falling for him.
Hard.
I grab a muffin off the kitchen counter, fill a bottle with water, and stop to grab the book I’ve been wanting to read. It’s still early, and I know Damon won’t be at the gym for at least twenty minutes.
Plus, it will give me something to do other than obsess over last night.
Because that tent?
It was so freaking adorable. A guy has never done anything like that for me. Ever.
I get to the fitness center, take a seat on a comfy chair overlooking the lake, and start reading.
I’m enjoying Kitty’s meet-cute with her hot neighbor and his dog when a shadow falls across my face.
I look up, and Damon goes, “You really like to read, don’t you? ”
“I do. What about you?”
“I prefer audiobooks. That way, I can listen to them while I’m working out.”
“What kind of books do you like?”
“Usually motivational,” he says. “Stories of other great athletes.”
“So, no pleasure reading?”
His eyes brighten as he takes the book from my hand and starts reading.
“‘What’s up?’” he says in a girlie-sounding voice. “‘ And um, what’s your favorite position?’”
“‘My favorite,’” he says in a deep voice. “‘Are we talking politics? Or sex?’ Oh, I am liking where this is going,” he says with a grin as he keeps reading.
“‘Sex.’ Please say missionary. Please prove me right,’” he says in the girlie voice.
“‘I’d have to show you,’” he says in a deep sexy tone.
“‘Please tell me, this is important research,’” he says as Kitty.
He stops and says, “I love that she’s drunk and asking him this. It’s funny. “‘Research? In that case … if I absolutely had to choose to only have sex in one position for the rest of my life, it would be reverse cowgirl.’” Damon’s eyes get huge, and I stifle a laugh. “Sexy stuff right here.”
“You going to convert your reading habits to something more pleasurable perhaps?” I tease.
“The motivational stuff is actually pleasurable for me, but just so we’re clear, football isn’t my life, but it is a huge part of it, and I want to have the right mindset. Always.”
“And I like football,” I tell him. “Grew up watching it. Love the food, the tailgating, the fans, the excitement. The actual on-field stuff can drag a bit sometimes. And I maybe, possibly, read a little while I’m watching a game with my dad.”
Damon’s mouth falls open. “Unacceptable.”
I laugh. “I promise I won’t read through any of your games.”
“No, by all means. If you want to read, read. But I’ll be thinking about that while I’m on the field. And trust me, I’ll try my best to make you look up,” he says in a seriously sexy tone.
I swallow hard but try to make light of it as he hands me back my book. “You think so? Going to turn me into a diehard fan?”
“Hopefully, you’ll be cheering my name this fall,” he says with a naughty smirk.
“Maybe I will,” I tease. But then I think about how he just read to me, using a different voice for each character. “You’re sweet, Damon. And thoughtful.”
“You say it like it’s a surprise,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.
“If you were a character trope, they would call you a marshmallow hero.”
He pulls his shirt off, revealing a deliciously hard torso that bears no resemblance to what I just called him.
“Nothing on me is soft,” he says, but then he looks down and grins. “But you know that from last night.”
I choose to ignore that comment because I can’t let my brain go there. And then it hits me. “Wait, no. Marshmallow is the wrong word. It’s cinnamon roll. You’re a cinnamon roll.”
“Is that any better?” he asks, flexing a bicep adorably in my direction.
I laugh. “It has nothing to do with your physique. It goes back to what I said about you being sweet. A lot of books have guys who are maybe not the most lovable—at least in the beginning—but they are hot. And we have to give them the benefit of the doubt if there’s enough chemistry between the characters.
I mean, it’s probably because of his tragic past or the fact that he’s, like, a monster in disguise or something else that makes him an asshole.
But some books feature sweet guys. And they are called a cinnamon roll hero. ”
“I’m not sweet,” Damon says, leaning down close to my face. “But I just might be sweet on you.”
“Well, then, maybe not. I don’t think a true roll would say that. That’s more of a player’s line.”
“Not if it’s heartfelt and true,” he counters, then follows it up by stealing a quick kiss.
“Should we talk about the tent?” I say to him. “Because creating something like that is not something a player would do for a girl he didn’t want to have sex with.”
“Let me be very, very clear. I never ever said I didn’t want to have sex with you. But I am enjoying—” He stops. “Are you? Like, did you have fun last night? Or not? Is that why you left? You know, I cried this morning because I woke up all abandoned and alone.”
And I suddenly feel horrible. Like, I think I really upset him.
But then he goes, “You know, like a good cinnamon roll would do.”
I go, “Ahh!” then punch him in the shoulder. “Fine. You’re a hot cinnamon roll who is a player, but on the nicer side of playing. If that makes sense.”
“It doesn’t really, but I asked you a question. You haven’t answered.”
I put my book down, stand up on my tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “I absolutely adored everything about last night.”
“So did I,” he says as Haley, Daine, Chase, and Dani arrive at the gym.
I’m sitting next to Haley. She’s on a rowing machine, and I’m doing some legwork with exercise bands. Chase and Damon are sitting next to us, doing exercises involving lifting colorful neoprene dumbbells with just their fingertips.
When I look at Damon curiously, he goes, “Finger strength. He needs it for throwing. I need it for catching.”
“How come you didn’t go to Nebraska a semester early with Chase?” I wonder.
“It made sense for him. It gave him a chance to get to know the upperclassmen, which was important since he’s going to be leading them on the field this year,” Damon says.
Chase smiles but rolls his eyes. “Well, we hope that’s the case.”
“Plus, I didn’t want to miss all the fun stuff.
Senior skip days. Prom. Graduation. And the whole last semester of high school was the first time where I truly didn’t care.
My grades and test scores got me into the college I’d wanted, and I could kind of coast. Won’t be able to coast in college, as Chase found out. ”
“At least you won’t have to make the same mistakes I did. So, there’s that,” Chase says.
“And while I’m going to have a roommate,” Damon adds, “I’m not living in a dorm. I need my sleep.”
“Where are you going to stay? I thought freshmen had to live on campus,” I ask.
“Technically, they do, but Mom bought an old building in a cool area near campus and turned it into condos,” Haley explains. “For now, they are for us. I’ll live there when I go. Chase and Devaney will live there.”
“I will too,” Damon says.
“And it’s got enough condos that when the family comes up for a game, they don’t have to get hotels,” Haley says. “Or even pack. Mom leaves game-day clothes there for everyone.”
“That’s really cool,” I say.
“The other cool thing is that, because they will eventually sell the building, she made it with a huge gathering space where we can all hang out. It’s fun. You’ll have to come up sometime,” Haley suggests.
“She already promised to be there for the first game,” Damon tells her, giving her the kind of smile that lights up his face.
And it makes me wonder about them.
When we’re done working out, I say, “You and Haley seem really close.”
“Haley is my girl.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s my friend. One of my best friends.”
“You kinda have chemistry with her,” I say gently.
“If by chemistry, you are referring to the fact that she’s like a little sister to me, sure, we do.”
“So, you’ve never had a thing?” I wonder.
“Ah, we considered it for all of about five minutes. Kissed. Were both like, No, we’re good ,” he says with a laugh. “We might have friendship chemistry, but there’s zero sexual chemistry between us.”
“And now she’s obsessed with Daine, isn’t she?” I say.
“That she is,” he says, concern crossing his face.
“You’re worried about that?”
“Of course. I don’t want to see her get hurt. He’s three years older than she is, which isn’t that bad. It’s just that Daine seems much older than he is. I literally thought he was, like, twenty-five the first time I met him. He’s kind of like Chase in that regard. Older than his years.”
“Like more mature?”
“Yeah, exactly. Like you,” he says with a grin.
“Honestly, I think you are probably more mature than I am.”