Rushed(29)

He turns red, and he bites his lip. "What I meant was . . . what about you moving in here? I've got a spare bedroom, you know."

I feel stupid, his meaning finally hits me clearly, and I feel myself blush. "Tyler . . . that's generous, but don’t you think that’s a little early? I mean, I know we're seeing each other and we've been intimate, but that's a big step in any relationship."

He nods, and holds me closer. "I've only got two concerns. One, that you're going to worry about what other people say. Second, that you feel like this is pressuring you. I want you to be comfortable where you live."

I smile at his consideration. "Tyler, you're sweet, and I don't care what anyone else says about this. You're just trying to help me out, right?"

I see the conflict in his eyes, and I understand, I'm feeling the same way. What I want to say is that I want to move in with him, and not just as a roomie, but as something more. Regardless of if it's only been a few weeks or not, I don't want to take just the other bedroom. But it's just not time, and maybe . . . well, it's a first step.

"Right," Tyler says after a moment, grinning sheepishly. "Helping out a friend. Can you break your lease?"

"I'm on a month to month lease right now, I'm paid up through the end of the month. I just need to leave about four hundred bucks behind to close out the electricity and hydro bills. Speaking of bills, halfsies I guess on this place?"

Tyler shakes his head and laughs. "I'm going to make ten times the amount of money you are this year. Going halfsies on the rent would be a crime."

"Well, I have to pay something," I protest. "I mean, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I won’t just cadge off you. And you're right, I'm not going to accept charity, even if it's from you."

Tyler thinks for a bit, then nods. "Okay. Here's the rental agreement. You pay the water and electric bills, and you cook about four days out of the week. We both win, and I’ll finally eat better more regularly.”

I can't help but smile. "Make it five days, and you've got a deal. I don't trust your cooking.”

Tyler nods and smiles. "Deal. Welcome, roomie. Maybe after our date on Sunday, we can start moving your stuff over here? How much do you have to move, anyway?"

"Not a lot," I admit. "I rented the place furnished, except for my bed. I have to leave the frame behind though, but the mattress is mine."

"How about you leave it, and we can get a better one for here?" Tyler asks. "Then we can just move your clothes in your car and mine, and not have to bother with some truck.”

“I see your game. You just want to give me no option but to sleep in the same bed as you for a day or two."

"Well, maybe, but with only the purest of intentions. Absolutely the purest."

Tyler arches an eyebrow, totally lying but pretending to be as innocent as a choir boy, and I laugh. "Right. The absolute purest. I think I might be sleeping fully clothed and in double layers Sunday night."

"I could always take the couch," Tyler offers. "Being a gentleman, you know."

I snuggle against him, feeling at peace for at least a while. "I know."





Chapter 11





Tyler





"And at starting quarterback, a rookie from Western University, one hundred and eighty-eight centimeters, ninety-six kilograms, number fourteen, Tyler Paulson!"

I shake my head, chuckling at the figures. It's going to take me a while to get used to the new numbers still. Of course, it's also strange to me that the team insists on metric measurements on the players, but the field is still measured in yards. Whatever.

I run out onto the field, raising my fist over my head as I do to some polite applause. The fans haven't seen a lot of me in the preseason, just a little over three quarters of action, and Coach was calling the plays very conservatively during the time I was playing. He didn't want to show everyone the new wrinkles he thought up in the offense, and there's a lot of questions out there about me. Can the new American boy come out and handle the pros, especially against one of the Fighters' main rivals, the Hamilton Tigersharks?

It's a tough test, and part of one of the rivalries that I'm just starting to get a handle on. For example, we're playing Tigersharks today here in Toronto, but next week we're playing the same team thirty miles down the road in Hamilton. Who thinks this shit up, anyway? But they've been doing it this way for nearly seventy years.

I reach the sidelines, high-fiving all the other offensive starters, including Lance Pollard, who is still sporting tape on his nose, but has been cleared to start contact again this week. He and I have had a silent understanding. He's going to be a pro, making sure that I'm able to do my job . . . and neither of us is going to be on the other's Christmas card list. Fuck it, I didn't get along with everyone on the team at Western either.

The crowd cheers loudly again as the defense is introduced, and I take a moment to look around at the crowd. Thirty thousand . . . not too bad. I mean, it's the smallest crowd I've played in front of since high school, even including that game we took against Navy my junior year, all the way on the other side of the country. We'd played in front of forty-five thousand then.