I STAND in the crowded hallway and wait for Shawn after the game. Some of the players’ families pass me, and they smile and wave as they head out to the garage. I wring my hands together, and hope I don’t look ridiculously out of place.
“Hey.” I glance to my right and see January, Dallas’ sister, standing by the bathroom. She holds her daughter’s hand and walks over to me. “Are you okay?”
We sat together in the box and had a great time. Shawn was right; she is down to earth. She’s hysterical, an aspiring standup comedian who’s a single mother busting her ass to give her kid a wonderful life. She also made my first game without Maggie and Aiden so fun, and all the fears I had about being here alone melted away.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I sigh and rub my forehead. “I’m still learning how everything works. I’m used to sitting in the stands and waiting for Shawn out in the tunnel with my friends. No one used to know my name. I could buy peanuts without someone pointing at me. It’s different now. There are reporters and cameras and people who want to talk to me. And it’s silly. I’m… I’m nobody. Nobody important. Sorry. I’m being so dramatic.”
“You’re not dramatic at all.” January scoops up her daughter, Lilah, and holds her in her arms. “It can be overwhelming. I’m the sibling of a player, not even a significant other, and people are fucking weird around me. They ask me to get jerseys signed without bothering to learn my name. They ask questions about Dallas’ personal life as if I know how many people he’s slept with. One girl showed me the voodoo doll she has of him, and asked if I wanted her to make me one, too. I can’t even imagine what this must be like for you. Having your face put on the internet and posted on social media like you aren’t a real human with real feelings is bizarre. Couldn’t you have picked someone a little less well known?”
“I’ll remember that for next time.” I grin and rub the back of my neck, trying to get rid of the ball of tension that sits there. “It’s a lot. And I realize how much of a privilege it is to say that. I’m sure millions of girls out there wish they were dating someone in the league—especially someone as kind and special as Shawn. It’s just going to take some getting used to.”
“It is,” January agrees, and she squeezes my shoulder. “You aren’t alone.”
“Maybe I’ll be more comfortable by the postseason,” I joke, knowing fully well Shawn and I won’t be faking a relationship when February comes around.
That ship will have sailed and we’ll have gone our separate ways, both getting what we want out of this quick holiday fling.
I wonder if he’ll still want me to come to the Titans’ games. I wonder if he’ll be dating someone new, and I wonder if he’ll fly her out to the Super Bowl if the team makes it that far. There’s a twist in my gut when I picture him with his arm around a leggy blonde at the press conference after the big win.
“Lacey? Are you okay?” January asks, and I smile.
“I’m fine. It’s been a long day with Thanksgiving, then the game.” I lean forward and pinch Lilah’s cheeks. “I’m going to miss my new buddy. How long are you in town for?”
“Only until Sunday. I go back to work on Monday, and as much as I’d like to stay, having a toddler isn’t cheap.” She laughs and kisses Lilah’s head. “If you ever find yourself in Georgia, my door is always open. It’s a small door, with toys on the floor and a crib shoved in the corner of my bedroom, but it’s open.”
“Hey.” I give her a gentle nudge. “A home isn’t measured by the size of the structure. It’s measured by what’s inside. And I can tell your home has a lot of love.”
“It does.” January looks down at her daughter and smiles. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“There are my favorite girls.” Dallas walks out of the locker room in his suit and tie with outstretched arms. Lilah squeals and wiggles, trying to get closer to her uncle. He takes her from January’s hold and spins her around. “Lilah Bug. I missed you while I was playing.”
“Hey, Dal,” January says.
“Hey, sis.” He kisses her cheek then turns to me and grins. “My third favorite girl. I shouldn’t let Coach hear me say that, though. He might give me extra laps.”
“Shawn can share,” I joke. “Great game tonight. You all played well.”
“12-0, baby,” Dallas calls out, and Lilah screams with delight. “We’re going to the championship.”
“We’ve got some more games to win before that happens,” a deep, rumbly voice says, and I turn around to find Shawn watching us with a smile on his face. “And I did hear you, Lansfield. You should plan to show up to practice early on Saturday.”
“Dammit,” the kicker groans.
“Dammit,” Lilah repeats, and we all burst out laughing.
“Such a bad influence, Uncle Dallas,” January tuts, and she takes her daughter back. “It was great to meet you, Lacey. You have my number, right?”
“I do. If you’re ever back in town, let me know. I’d love to get dinner,” I say.
“Me too.” She peers over my shoulder and looks at Shawn. “You’ve got a good one here.”
His eyes meet mine, and his gaze is soft. “I do, don’t I? Come here, sweetheart,” he says, and, gosh, I like how nice that word sounds coming from him. I want to wrap it up in a bow and keep it for myself.
I bite my bottom lip and shuffle toward him. He slides his arm around my waist and pulls me close. He drums his fingers against my hip, and I shiver at the contact. I didn’t wear his jersey tonight, opting to keep on my clothes from lunch instead. There’s a small sliver of space between the start of my skirt and the hem of my shirt, and his pinky grazes across my skin.
It’s maddening, and I kind of want to tug him into the supply closet to our right and see how his fingers feel on other parts of my body. Especially when he does it a second time, a slow drag that has my back arching and my toes curling.
I think the bastard is doing it on purpose, and I hate him for it.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I blurt out, and Shawn chuckles into the top of my head. “Get home safe.”
The Lansfields leave, and I turn to swat Shawn’s arm. He grins at me and cocks his head to the side.
“Something wrong, Daniels?”
“No,” I huff, and I put my hands on my hips. “I’m fine.”
“You look a little worked up.”
“No thanks to you,” I mumble, and his attention bounces to the hollow of my throat. “Do you want to go to the diner? You’re probably exhausted, aren’t you?”
“We can’t break tradition,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. He coughs and lets go of me, taking a step back. “A milkshake is exactly what I need right now.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go,” I say, and we head to his car.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
“It was a blast. January is so sweet. Lilah is cute, too.”
“Do you want kids?” Shawn asks, then stops in his tracks. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was an incredibly personal question.”
“I do want kids, but not my own.” He gives me a curious look, and I smile. “I want to adopt. There are so many children out there who need a loving home, and I think I could provide that for them. I’m an only child, and I’ve dreamed of having these big Christmases with holiday cards and matching pajamas. Like, eight of us around the kitchen table and wrapping paper everywhere.” I pause and my smile turns sheepish. “That was an overshare, wasn’t it?”
“No,” he says quickly. He stops us by the door out to the garage and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It wasn’t an overshare. I want to know these things about you. I should know these things about you.”
“Because we’re pretending to be in a relationship, right?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Because you’re my friend, and I care about you. I want to know all about your dreams, Lacey.”
“You do?” I swallow, and heat invades my cheeks. “My dreams are boring.”
“I highly doubt that. There’s not a boring bone in your body,” Shawn says. He touches my cheek, and I let out a breath. “Will you share your dreams with me?”
“Will you share yours with me?” I ask. “This goes both ways.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.” He nods and hooks his thumb around my chin. “Ask away, Lacey girl.”
When he calls me that, I want to melt into a puddle.
When he calls me that, it’s hard to remember this arrangement of ours has an end date.
“Do you want kids? Do you want to get married?”
The questions race out of me. I don’t know why I’m curious, but something in my chest tells me I need to find out. Since I’ve known him, Shawn’s never dated anyone seriously. I’ve heard him mention a few one-night stands, but nothing that’s lasted for longer than twenty-four hours.
He’s not a player or someone who gets around a lot. He also doesn’t talk about his conquests like they’re a prize to show off. There’s a hesitancy, I think. A reluctancy to go all in on someone with feelings and emotions. He’ll enjoy the physical release a couple of beautiful women can give him, then he goes back to being suspiciously single, a puzzle I haven’t quite figured out.
“I do,” he says, and his voice hitches lower. Quieter, like he’s revealing a secret side of himself no one else has ever seen. “I want both, but I’m picky.”
“Picky how?” I ask, and I don’t know when I got so close to him. I don’t know when I grabbed a fistful of his shirt or why my heart starts to rumble in my chest. I don’t remember his fingers curling around the back of my neck.
I just know that I like it.
“I’ll tell you one day soon,” he murmurs. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “Preferably when you’re not standing in front of me wearing a short skirt and boots that make your legs look nice and long.”
“What’s wrong with my skirt?” I whisper. “I like my outfit.”
“It’s distracting,” he says. He smiles, and it’s a wicked, handsome thing. “And we have a date with milkshakes and a plate of fries.”
“Right.” I nod, and it feels like I’ve been doused in cold water. “Milkshakes,” I say.
Shawn’s hand falls away from my face, and he nods toward the door. “You first.”
“What? Why? Please don’t tell me you’re going to try and scare me.”
“Maybe I want to look at your ass when you walk away, Daniels.”
I burst out laughing and shake my head. “Wow. At least you’re honest, right?”
“What are friends for?” he asks, and I poke him in the ribs.
Friends, I tell myself.
That’s all that we are.
Except this feels a lot like flirting.
A game we’re playing, to see who can crack first.
I give him a sly grin and spin around, swaying my hips from side to side as I walk to the garage. I look at him over my shoulder and his eyes are heated. He’s staring at my ass without any shame.
Point, me.
