The Perfect First (Fulton U, #1)(46)
“Seph, it’s me.” Reece’s voice filtered through the wood.
I cracked the door open. “I’m so sorry. Tell your parents I’ll get the tablecloth cleaned or replace it, and that I’m so sorry for ruining dinner.” The edge of hysteria I’d beaten back by running cold water over my wrists was back with a vengeance and might have brought along a few friends. “Are they really upset?”
He pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind him. Wrapping his hands around my arms, he held me close. “I’m telling you, don’t freak out. No one cares at all.”
I rested my head against his chest. He smelled like nutmeg and chocolate, like Christmas, like the kind of holiday I’d always hoped to have. Laughter came from the other side of the door. My muscles tensed. I’d nearly lost it—hell, I could safely say I had lost it. His family must have thought I was insane.
“They aren’t laughing at you. They’re probably laughing at Ethan’s new haircut. He’s been wearing that hat for a reason.”
Letting go of him, I chewed on my bottom lip.
“Take as long as you need in here. Come out when you’re ready, but just know they’ll all be talking about you while you’re in here and wondering just what kind of bowel issues you have that have you stuck in here for this long.” He grinned and darted out the door.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I gave myself the best pep talk I could under the circumstances. “Maybe a stray meteor will take you out on the way back out there.” Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and walked back out to the kitchen, slowly enough that an unforeseen astrological event could put me out of my misery. Sadly, I made it to the dining room fully intact.
When I got there, everyone was finishing up their pie. Reece helped his brother gather plates and walked them into the kitchen. I hung back in the doorway.
“Seph, we saved you a piece of pie.” Mary waved me over and patted the seat beside her.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I rounded the table.
“Of course I did. John’s pie is something no one should miss out on.” She leaned in close like this was a secret between us, a secret between friends. “How do you think he got me to go out with him?”
I sat beside her and took my first bite of the pie. The deep rich chocolate flavor made me feel like I was doing laps in a giant mug of hot chocolate.
“Now can you see why I married him?”
“Right? Who could turn down a pie like that?”
Reece came out with a glass of milk. “It makes it even better.” Our fingers brushed against each other when he passed me the glass, and he didn’t pull back this time. He didn’t jerk his hand away and put that distance between us. All the looks and touches I’d tried to keep myself from thinking too deeply about all came rushing forward at once.
I’d fallen into something I couldn’t describe. The thing I thought could be explained away by science and biochemistry had blindsided me. It was a chemical reaction. My body was taking all these new experiences and attaching crazy levels of hormones to them, making me feel like this. Chemical reactions or not, I couldn’t get Reece Michaels out of my head.
17
Reece
The roar of the crowd was a distant memory by the time I walked down the tunnel toward the jam-packed locker room. My hands still stung from that last catch of the game. Nix had a hell of an arm. He’d bombed it from nearly sixty yards away, and the heat on it had made my hands itch.
Everyone laughed and cheered at another kickass win in our column, their voices bouncing off the cinderblock and concrete tunnel. Fans snuck into the area and stopped guys for pictures. Flashes went off as twenty people held up their phones. I hung back. The big smiles, excitement radiating from every person around me—I was usually right in the center of it, but today I stepped back.
We were closer than any team had been to the national championship in almost ten seasons, but that wasn’t the stat that had made it hard to sleep for the past few nights.
Seph had to be at her apartment by now. She’d said she’d watch the game, but that didn’t mean she was above saying it just to make me feel better or had any idea what had gone on. There were only two games left in the season. I wanted her up in the stands watching me on the field.
I wanted her to see me out at the fifty-yard line with thousands of fans’ eyes on me, killing it and running through defenders like they were cardboard cutouts. A small part of me wanted her to be proud. Anyone who spoke to her could tell within about a minute she wasn’t like anyone else. Her mind worked in mysterious and brilliant ways, although she was shit at playing pool. I didn’t want her to think I was just another dumb jock.
It was a stupid thing to worry about. Us seeing each other was about her list. Things I took for granted, she relished and stared at with wide-eyed excitement. Watching her conquer her fears, taking that deep breath before she went for it made me look at it all in a different way.
At this point, I was probably looking forward to some of her firsts because I couldn’t wait to see how she’d react. It wasn’t been there, done that with her, because she hadn’t. These were more than checkmarks on a list and going through the motions.
She would always be someone with a special place in my heart—that is, in my memories. The ticking countdown hanging over our heads made each first even more special. It made me want to make them special so she wouldn’t forget about me.