Blind Side(14)

“Thank you,” he said, something thick in his throat with the words. “For doing this.”

The moment of softness from him caught me off guard, but I laughed it off, shrugging. “Hey, it’ll be me thanking you when you land me my first real boyfriend.”

The second the words left my lips, I balked — the shocked expression on my face mirroring Clay’s.

“First boyfriend?” he echoed.

I didn’t have the chance to answer before Charlotte swung through the door of her office, which was connected to mine, and started rambling off about twenty things she needed from me.

I shoved Clay the rest of the way out the door without acknowledging his question, and once the door was shut behind me, Charlotte swept in.

“Are you listening?”

I snapped up straight, grabbing my notebook off my desk. “Following. And I have an update on the auction, too.”

She eyed me cautiously, lifting a brow at the door I had just been guarding before she shrugged like it wasn’t worth her time to ask any questions. Then, she turned and slipped back into her office, me on her heels as she continued on with our list.

And I somehow managed to pay attention despite how my heart raced in my chest.





Clay



“You ready for this?”

Giana was wringing her hands together in front of the stadium, doe eyes shifty as they looked around us like she was worried someone would overhear. The morning sun illuminated all the different colors in those eyes, ones I’d never noticed before — a strange blend of turquoise and gold and green.

Her fear of being seen was unwarranted. Most everyone was already inside, getting warm and trying to work out the anxiety from what this day held for all of us.

Depth Chart Day.

“You can back out,” I said.

“No.” Giana answered as quickly as I’d suggested, shaking her head and steadying her shoulders. “I’m fine, I just…” She bit her lip. “Look, I believe you when you say you’re going to help me. That makes sense. I don’t know how to flirt, let alone date, or get a guy who doesn’t even know I’m alive to want me.”

She was all nerves, her hands trembling a bit as she stared down at the chipping polish on her nails.

“But me, helping you,” she said, shaking her head. “Making someone like Maliyah jealous?”

She didn’t finish the thought, just bit the inside of her cheek and looked up at me like it was obvious, like she couldn’t possibly arouse jealousy in anyone.

I didn’t bother to tame the smile that curved on my lips as I let my eyes run the length of her. She’d left her hair down, the tight curls still a little damp from her shower that morning, and whatever makeup she’d done was light enough that all the freckles speckling her cheeks shone through the foundation. Her glasses were red-framed, matching the plaid skirt she wore and the knee-high stockings she’d paired with it. She was completely oblivious to how sexy her legs were, to how seeing that little skirt contrasted with the modest button up fastened all the way to her neck would make any straight man long to undo her, make any woman long to be as effortlessly alluring.

“Trust me,” I said, taking my time as my gaze crawled back up to meet hers. “Maliyah will lose her fucking mind when she sees us.”

Giana shook her head, clasping her hands together as she turned to face me. “Can we just run through it one more time?”

“I told you we needed more practice.”

She waved me off with a face that said yeah, yeah before waiting for my cue.

“We’ll walk in together, holding hands, and get a little close. Start up the whispers,” I reminded her. “After practice, you’ll meet me in the cafeteria.”

“And I’ll make a big scene, running to you and congratulating you on making the team.” She paused. “And you’re sure you’ll make it?”

I gave her a flat look.

“Fine,” she waved me off. “And then… we… kiss.”

Her cheeks tinged pink.

I smirked. “Then, we kiss.” I paused, arching a brow. “You sure you don’t want to practice that part?”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

“I’m just saying. Might ease the nerves.”

Giana ignored me, blowing out a breath and rolling her lips together before she finally stopped wringing her hands and straightened her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do this before I pass out, or throw up, or change my mind, or all of the above.”

Her hand shot out for mine, and I smiled, intertwining my fingers with hers. As soon as I did, her breath hitched, like even just holding hands was new to her.

I leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Fake it til you make it, Kitten.”

She flushed, looking down at the sidewalk as I tugged her toward the stadium doors. Something similar to nerves bubbled in my chest, too, as I scanned my ID badge, and then we both slipped into performance mode.

In the last two weeks, we’d been so busy we’d barely had time to sleep, let alone come up with a game plan for the little deal we made. Fall camp was brutal, a blur of daily practices that bled into weight training and meetings and watching film. Giana was caught up in her own busy season, fielding reporters and managing the media circus every day, which left only late at night before we both passed out for us to discuss what would come next.