Chapter 12 #2
“That’s what I was going to ask you.” He rubs a hand across his chest, and even though I can’t see the expression on his face, I know it’s anything but happy.
But what’s new?
“Whoa there, buddy,” I say. “Are you mad at me?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says, like I just snuck up on him and not the other way around. “What the hell were you thinking coming out here in the middle of the night all by yourself?”
“That’s none of your business.” My temper slides into place and I get the sudden urge to test my uppercut on him too. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re out here?”
“Because”—he raises his voice and gestures wildly to the locker rooms behind him—“I work here!”
Oh.
Well.
I guess that’s a pretty good reason.
“This late?” I unzip my fanny pack and pull out my phone. “It’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
I didn’t know it was possible, but he sounds even more annoyed than usual. I turn on the flashlight and shine it on his face, which—rudely—is still hot when he’s tired and angry.
“Shouldn’t you be at home?”
As a newly appointed Texas high school football expert, I know the job is intense, but two in the morning seems excessive. Even Coach Taylor made it home to Tami for dinner most nights.
“The nights are long in the lead-up to the season,” he says.
“You stay this late every night?”
“Not every night.” He shrugs. “Once the season is underway, things will get better.”
I’d think the opposite would be true, but since he’s an actual coach and I just play one on TV, I’ll take his word for it.
“When’s your first game?” After my last week of working out with the boys, I’m practically a member of the team.
I should probably know when we’re playing.
Plus, I’m a fantastic cheerleader—metaphorically, definitely not in the splits and cartwheel literal way—and they’re obviously going to need my support.
“Next time you come over, could you bring the schedule and roster?”
He narrows his eyes, and I add “suspicious” to the list of his hot facial expressions. “For what?”
“I need to mark the games on my calendar and know how many goody bags I need to make.” From the look of practices, it’s definitely over a hundred, but I need an exact number.
“Include the coaches. I guess you guys deserve a cookie too. Which reminds me, am I allowed to bake cookies or do they have to be store-bought?”
“Whoa. Slow down.” He holds his hands in front of his chest. “Booster club provides the boys with pregame and postgame meals, so you don’t need to do that, and can we please get back to the subject at hand?”
“The subject at hand?”
“Jesus Christ.” He growls. “Why are you running, by yourself, this late at night?”
“Or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it.” I don’t know why, but for some reason, I get a small thrill out of annoying him. Electricity fizzles through my veins for eliciting even an ounce of the feelings he brings out in me. “Maybe I’m just getting a head start on my day.”
“An early start is why you spent the last hour and a half running like your life depended on it?” Sarcasm drips off every word. “I finished work thirty minutes ago, but I couldn’t leave because you looked like you were going to collapse long before you finally did.”
“I did not collapse.” I did. “I made the very conscious decision to lie down, ever so gracefully, on the field so I could look at the stars.”
“You—” He shakes his head and slow blinks. I’m afraid I might’ve broken him. “You were looking at the stars?”
I think the real question here is why is he not?
“Well, yeah.” I point to the blanket of stars overhead. “I mean, look at them.”
“I’m looking at you.” His fingers graze the bare skin just below the sleeve of my shirt as he brushes the rubber beads off my arm. “You’re covered in these.”
The air goes still.
“I know,” I whisper. “They’re in my hair too.”
My heart stutters in my chest and sparks leap from my skin.
I don’t want to feel like this around him.
I don’t want to feel the world start to slow each time he’s near or the gentle hum of excitement that washes over me whenever his eyes meet mine.
I want to feel as unaffected by him as he seems to be by me.
So unbothered by the sight of him that I don’t even know he’s around.
If there is one Jacobs brother I should feel like this around, it should absolutely not be Tate.
I’m starting to realize that might not be possible.
“Why are you out here, Luna?” he tries again, his voice soft this time, and I hate how quickly I fold.
“I have a hard time sleeping.”
His eyebrows furrow, but this time he looks more concerned than annoyed. “All the time?”
“It didn’t used to be an issue. After my—” I stop myself. Telling him I have insomnia is one thing; freely sharing my mom trauma is quite another. “It’s been a few months. I’m sure I’ll get over it soon, but I thought I’d try to exercise myself to sleep tonight.”
“Did it work?”
“It might have,” I say. “But then someone snuck up on me and scared me senseless.”
He has the decency to look embarrassed, but not sorry.
“I was standing by the fence for a long time before I came over,” he says. “I thought you saw me and were ignoring me like you do at practice.”
Shit.
“I don’t ignore you.” I lie straight through my teeth.
He rolls his eyes, and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a very attractive, very infuriating smirk. “Sure you don’t.”
“I don’t!” I repeat the lie with more conviction this time, but somehow, it’s even less believable. “And I really didn’t see you tonight. It was too dark, and I don’t know if you noticed or not, but I was pretty focused on running. Also, you were watching me in the dark? Okay, stalker.”
“I was trying to go home,” he says. “Celestial is a safe town, but you never know who could be driving through or what could happen. If you couldn’t see me standing right by the fence, you wouldn’t have been able to see anyone else either.”
I’ve watched enough crime procedurals to know he’s not wrong. A shiver runs down my spine just thinking about it. “I guess, but—”
“Listen.” He cuts me off with a shake of his head.
“I’m here most nights, and the nights I’m not, I probably should be.
” He pulls my phone out of my hand and starts tapping away before I have the wherewithal to attempt to stop him.
“Here’s my number. If you ever want to come run late again, call or text me.
I can come turn on the stadium lights and do some work so you’re not alone and in the dark. ”
My legs go weak again, but it’s not from overexertion this time.
“Thank you.” I take my phone back, knowing I’ll never take him up on it, but grateful that he offered. “That’s really nice of you.”
“It’s not. Like I said, I’m always up here anyways and there’s always more work to be done.” He brushes off my thanks. “Plus, if anything happens to you at the stadium, it’s just going to create a lot of paperwork on my end.”
Tate doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who does something for the praise, and as I have a best friend who also hates receiving compliments, I know better than to push it any further.
“I wouldn’t want that.” I tuck my phone back in my fanny pack and pull out my keys. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep tonight, but I do know spending more time with Tate won’t help my odds.
We walk to the parking lot in silence, and it’s not until he hits a button on his keys that I even notice his pickup tucked away in the back of the parking lot.
“Are you okay to get home?” he asks.
It’s only a twenty-minute drive to my house, and between the jump scare and his sweet offer I’m sure my brain will spend the next three to eight hours dissecting, I don’t think I’m in any danger of dozing off.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
He nods, but not even the darkness can mask his uncertainty. “I’m guessing you won’t be at practice in the morning”—he assumes correctly—“but I’ll be over in the afternoon to work on the bathroom if that’s okay with you.”
“Fine with me.” I actually have some pretty exciting home improvement plans of my own tomorrow. “I’ll see you then.”
Instead of saying goodbye, he lifts his chin and turns on a heel without another word. I get into my car, and even though I’m probably good for the short drive home, I turn on my most upbeat playlist…just in case.
I roll down the windows, singing along with the radio as the wind hits me in the face. It’s not until I turn into my long driveway and the car behind me does a U-turn in the middle of the empty highway that I realize it’s the same truck I saw tucked in the back of the stadium parking lot.
And when I finally climb into my bed after a long, hot shower, the sleep that often evades me pulls me under right away.
But it’s the dreams of dark eyes and a deep voice that give me the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.
Maybe forever.