Blind Side(13)

A week and a half later, I snuck Clay into my office, peeking down the hall to make sure no players or staff saw us. Not that it would matter — I could easily play it off as media prep — but something about the real reason we were alone together convinced me I wouldn’t be able to sell the lie.

I clicked the door closed as softly as I could once he was inside, turning toward him with a relieved exhale that no one saw.

“Why are you acting like we’re about to hijack a bank?”

“Honestly? That sounds less scary than why we’re actually here,” I admitted.

Clay smirked, folding his arms over his massive chest as he took a step toward me. He was still in his practice jersey and padded pants, both of which were stained and damp and clinging to him. The closer he got, the more I smelled him — and I wished I was disgusted by the mix of sweat and dirt and grass and something like teakwood, but the cocktail was like his own brand of pheromones, and I had to actively work to keep my eyes trained on his cocky face instead of trailing the length of all his glorious muscles.

“It’s just a little kiss practice.”

“Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

He chuckled. “We haven’t had time to talk much since we made the deal. I think it makes sense to go through the plan.”

I swallowed. “Right. Which is… what again?”

“We’ll make our big reveal on Chart Day. We’ll start by walking into the stadium holding hands before practice, get the rumor mill going. The team will be buzzing with high energy since everyone finds out who makes the team and at what rank.”

“And then, in the cafeteria after practice, we… make a scene.”

He nodded. “We make a scene.”

“Because I run over to you and… kiss you.”

Clay’s smirk was incorrigible, and I swatted his arm.

“I’m so glad this amuses you,” I said with a glare.

“I just find humor in how you can barely say the word kiss.”

I cracked my neck, holding my shoulders back and refusing to admit to him that I’d only had a couple of kisses in my life — none of which rocked my world — and that this entire thing made me want to crawl into a hole and hide.

I could do that. It was an option. I could call this whole thing off right now and save myself the embarrassment.

But something strange happened after I left Clay that night at the coffee shop.

I realized something I hated to admit.

I wanted this.

It was outrageous, and would likely fail, but even the possibility of it working in a way that got Shawn to not only notice me, but take an interest in me?

It was too intoxicating of a fantasy to pass up.

So, if my role in all this was to make a scene so Maliyah would notice Clay was moving on?

I’d play my part.

Although, the fact that he thought I could make a girl like her jealous was a little ridiculous in its own right.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I said, ignoring that bit of insecurity niggling at my chest. I’d have plenty of time to let it keep me awake later. “So, you stand over there, pretend like you’re in line or whatever.”

I pointed by my desk, and Clay took his position, watching me with curious eyes.

“Alright,” I said, wringing my hands. “Here it goes.”

“Okay.”

Clay waited, and I just stood there, rolling my lips together and willing my feet to move.

“Here I come.”

He chuckled. “Okay.”

After another long hesitation, he opened his mouth to question me, and I launched before he had the chance.

It was a quick five strides before I leapt, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight at the prospect of him dropping me or being knocked off center by my clumsiness. But Clay caught me with ease, his arms coming around my waist as my legs locked around his. My breath caught with the force, hair falling into my face a bit and glasses sliding down the bridge of my nose.

I pushed them back up slowly, breathing heavily as I catalogued every place my body touched his — my arms around his neck, my chest pressed against his, my thighs squeezing at his hips.

And between my legs, something foreign tingled where his stomach rubbed against me.

Panic zipped through me as I scrambled out of his arms. “Okay. Got it.”

“Don’t you want to try the kiss?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t be a brat.”

“What?” He feigned innocence, throwing his hands up. “I think you’d feel more comfortable if you tried it now, when no one is around.”

“I’ll give you a nice long peck and then scream you made it! to seal the proud girlfriend thing.”

Clay held up a finger and waved it side to side. “Not just a peck. No one is going to be convinced by that. They’d be more apt to think we’re brother and sister than a couple.”

“Fine,” I ground out. “A little tongue. But just a quick sweep, capisce?”

He cocked a brow. “What are you, an Italian mobster now?”

I waved him off. “I need to get back to work. And you need to get back to practice. I think we’re fine here.”

Clay smiled, conceding and heading for the door, but he paused at the frame, something slumping his shoulders before he turned back to me.