Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
jade
Reeve is a new man when we hit the ground.
“Whoo!” he hollers as we leave the Ferris wheel behind. “My adrenaline is fucking pumping! Shit, I wish it was game day. I could throw the ball to the moon right now.”
I smile because happy Reeve is back, but my mind churns with questions: Did he feel what I felt on the Ferris wheel or was that wishful thinking? And how can I possibly put the lid back on that startling realization I just had?
“We should put that energy to good use,” I tell him.
He looks at me, one eyebrow raised suggestively.
“I mean you should win me that prize.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m down. Let’s go smash the shit out of some milk bottles.”
It takes only minutes before I’m walking out of the carnival with a giant neon-pink penguin in my arms.
“What are you gonna name him?” Reeve asks as we head out the carnival gates toward my car.
“I’m not.”
“How about Reeve?”
“If you insist I name him, I can promise you it won’t be Reeve.”
“Yeah, you’re right. He could never live up to that name. I got it . . . Jeeve.”
“Jeeve?”
“Yeah, you and me. Jade plus Reeve. Unless you prefer . . . Rade?”
“Rade?” I make a face. “No, definitely not Rade.”
“Jeeve it is.” He pats Jeeve affectionately. “This must be what it’s like to become a father.”
I laugh. “Yeah, just like this. Except I’m betting you spent ten times as long winning Jeeve as you would making a baby.”
I wait for the inevitable boast about how he can go all night long and he’ll prove it to me if he has to, but it doesn’t come.
Maybe that was wishful thinking too. “You know, I appreciate you dragging me out tonight. I haven’t had a night like this in a long time.
Sorry for being a grumpy prick earlier.”
“Don’t be. Now that I know what a grumpy prick you can be, I’m free to be the real me,” I joke. “And if you thought I was a bitch before, you’re in for a treat.”
“I can put up with that if you can put up with me. Other than Cam, my friends don’t want me around unless I’m making everyone laugh.”
“They’ve told you that?”
“No, but I know what they expect. I’m the fun guy—all good vibes all the time.”
“And what? You really think they’d shun you for having a bad mood?”
He shrugs. “I don’t need to find out. Better to keep to myself when I want to be an asshole.” I must have a look of pity on my face, because he shakes his head. “Nah, don’t go feeling sorry for me. I’m used to handling problems on my own. It’s okay with me.”
We reach my car and get in, suddenly insulated from the noise and color and stimulation of the carnival. In the quiet before I start the engine, I’m thoughtful.
“What?” he asks.
“I was just thinking. About our no-rules agreement.”
Reeve watches me, his eyes moving between mine. I sense his uncertainty, but is it hope or dread that has him searching my face for answers?
“Since we have no rules, there’s nothing to say you can’t put your problems on me.”
“Oh.” I can see this isn’t where he expected the conversation to go. “Yeah, I don’t know. You wouldn’t like me much if I got all needy.”
“I don’t like you much as it is, so there’s nothing to lose.”
“Oh yeah? That kiss on the Ferris wheel says different.”
My body swells with pleasure. So he felt it too.
Or else he doesn’t want to talk about himself and his problems, but either way, I’m not ready to think about what changed during that kiss.
I busy myself by starting the car and backing out.
Only when we’re on the main road back to campus do I feel his gaze shift from me.
“So what had you so pissed earlier?”
Reeve is silent.
“I’m not going to run away.” One glance at his poker face tells me he’s more stubborn than I realized, so I try a different tactic. “Look, no matter how much your feelings might bore me, we’re ten minutes from your place, so I won’t have to put up with them for long. Lay it on me.”
I catch him rolling his eyes, but my strategy works. “It’s football, Jade. What else? I’m supposed to be having the best season of my career, and instead I’m sitting on the bench.”
“Why?”
“After that concussion a few weeks back, I—”
“You got a concussion?”
He jerks his head toward me. “Are you serious?”
“You know I don’t watch your games.”
“Yeah, but do you read the school paper? Your best friend’s an editor, isn’t she? She never told you?”
“Damn Lenni, I guess she forgot to mention it during our nightly recaps of the life and times of Reeve Dalton.”
“Can I tell you what’s wrong or would you like to lead this discussion?”
“The floor is yours.”
“Finally. Thank you.” He shakes his head. “I had to sit out two games, and my backup just had to put on the best game of his life while I sat on the bench. Then this afternoon I find out he’s starting on Saturday.”
“Well, is he better than you?” I look at him, then quickly redirect my eyes back to the road. If looks could kill, I’d be halfway to hell.
“I’m the best quarterback Shafer has ever had, Jade. Beltman, my backup, is unheard of.”
“Then why is he taking your spot?”
“He’s winning us games. Period.”
“And you weren’t?”
He hesitates. “I wasn’t exactly at the top of my game leading up to my injury. But I can’t show I’m back at peak performance if I’m not on the field, can I?”
“I’m going to need you to take pity on me because I don’t know anything about football, but how big of a deal is it for you to sit out an extra game? I mean, what’s the harm?”
“The harm is you don’t wind up a top-ten draft pick six months after you’re demoted from starter to second string. You feel me?”
I nod. I feel it as strongly as if it’s emanating right from his body: his intensity, his frustration, his drive. And it’s damn sexy, this ferocity I sense in him.
“The NFL is the only thing I’ve cared about for a long time. It’s the one thing I have.”
“No way. I don’t buy that.”
“What else do I have? Friends and family? Relationships?” He shakes his head. “I can’t control those. I can’t count on them. But as long as I’m dedicated, I’ve always been able to make things happen on the field. Football is my life. That’s how I like it.”
With his words, I understand something I didn’t before.
He doesn’t jump from girl to girl because he’s waiting for something better to come along; he does it because a relationship means nothing to him.
Football is first, second, and third, and everything else isn’t even worth a mention.
As if I needed another reason to keep my heart locked up tight.
“Okay, so now’s the part where you tell me it’ll all work out and my NFL contract is practically in the bag,” he says, reminding me I’m supposed to continue this conversation as though the growing sense of hope I’ve been feeling all night didn’t just shatter.
“Sounds like you’ve got that script memorized. Where should I drop you?” I ask as I turn onto his street.
“Take that spot out front next to Cam’s truck.”
I pull into the empty spot a few feet from his front door. I hope he’ll leave quickly, because I don’t like the empty feeling inside me, and if I want to get rid of it, I need him gone. He unbuckles his seat belt but makes no move to get out of the car.
“So if you won’t tell me there’s nothing to worry about, what will you tell me?”
I stare at the steering wheel. “I don’t know how the NFL works, Reeve. I wouldn’t know what to tell you.”
“Not about the NFL.”
“Then what?”
“What you’re thinking about me. Right now.”
I look at him. He’s so achingly handsome, so strong and brimming with confidence and potential.
Suddenly I’m acutely aware of what I want from him: I want him to be mine.
“I’ve never even seen you with a football in your hand.
If you never pick one up again, it wouldn’t change a thing about how I see you. ”
His lips pout slightly, something he does when he’s thinking hard. I wonder how many times I’ve watched him to recognize this tiny cue. “You’d be the only one,” he says after a moment.
“Maybe you only need one.”
He nods slowly, his eyes locked on mine. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Maybe.”
That’s all he has to do—speak to me in that soft voice, look at me with that intensity in his eyes—and it all shifts.
I don’t want him to go. He leans toward me, still locked in my gaze.
My breath catches, ready for his kiss, but it’s the keys in the ignition he reaches for.
He shuts off the engine and slides the keys out, then wraps my fingers around them. I don’t think I’ve blinked once.
“Don’t go home yet,” he says. “Stay with me a little longer.”
My heart thumps inside my chest, his words so sweet and pleading and so unlike the Reeve he shows to the world. It’s exactly what has me so addicted to him—this soft, complicated, vulnerable side and that soft, beautiful gaze clashing with his brutally cocky exterior.
We go inside his house without another word, his hand around mine, leading me.
Just inside the front door, he pushes it closed and traps me against it with the weight of his body and the press of his lips.
His hands trail up my sides, up my arms, pinning my hands to the door.
A shiver rocks me, and my nipples stiffen.
His kiss feels like a thousand pent-up questions being released against my lips.
I want to wrap my legs around him right here, but already his fingers are moving back down my wrists, my elbows, my shoulders, leaving a trail of goose bumps.
Then he touches my underarm just so, hitting my ticklish spot.
I laugh, breaking the kiss and sending my purse clattering to the floor. Reeve chuckles.
“Shh,” he whispers in my ear and nods toward the stairs, beyond which lies Cam’s bedroom. The feel of his warm breath on my skin is everything. “You’re about to get me in trouble.”
“I won’t tell on you,” I promise.