The Hardest Fall(74)

Holding my breath, I lifted my camera a little higher, my fingers itching to capture just a second of their moment. Then, one by one, all the players on the field kneeled in front of their teammate, a few behind Dylan and Chris, a few to their right.

Before the chanting started, I ran toward the mouth of the tunnel, came to a quick stop, and lined up with JP to the left so I could have Dylan right in the middle of my shot. I focused on Dylan’s hard, unyielding, sweaty face and took the shot that would become one of my most cherished photos.

When it all stopped, I was still standing in the exact same spot, rooted in place.

Dylan got up and went to his friend. Whispering something in his ear, he carefully pulled JP to himself and they gave each other one of those manly hugs. I was having a really really hard time holding back my tears. When the rest of his team swarmed around their injured teammate, Chris included, Dylan’s dark blue eyes met mine, piercing me with his gaze.

As he broke off from the crowd, I slowly lowered my camera and watched him stalk toward me, our eyes never losing contact. He covered the distance between us in no time. When he was standing right in front of me, I stared up at him, just as out of breath as he was, if not more. On top of that, I could feel my hands shaking ever so slightly as I tried not to lose the smile I’d plastered on my face.

Calm your tits, Zoe. It’s nothing more than an adrenaline rush. He is still your friend.

“Who is he?” were the first words out of his mouth.

My smile faltered. “What?”

“Number four.” I must have looked as clueless as I felt because he waited for an answer from me before continuing. “Trevor Paxton—you were in his arms.”

Snorting, I relaxed and my smile tipped my lips up again. I’d been right before—he was jealous. Just the realization eased something in my chest. “My friend from Phoenix. We grew up in the same neighborhood, same high school and everything. Strictly friends.”

At my words, his shoulders dropped down slightly. “Okay. Okay, that’s good.”

I nodded in quick jerks and tried not to grin. Yeah, it was good.

His eyes bored into mine and his jaw clenched. “You’re not looking away. Why are you not looking away?”

I ignored his words and lost the battle with my lips. I smiled big, teeth and everything. “You were amazing, Dylan, really freaking amazing.” Standing in front of me in all those pads, he looked so intimidating, so big.

His frown smoothed out completely and he gave me a boyish smile. “Yeah?”

My eyes dropped to his lips for a few seconds as I took in that beautiful, surprised smile—another one to add to the list.

I wish he was mine, I thought as I lifted my eyes back up.

I smiled even bigger, if that was possible. “Yep.”

One of the coaches ran past us, breaking our little huddle. Dylan grabbed my arm and shuffled me back a few steps until I was almost against the wall, bringing us closer.

“Now I understand all the hype,” I continued before he could say anything else. “I feel a little light headed, like I’m a drunk on the game. You guys were amazing.” Another winning—or losing, depending on where you stood—smile from me. “I admit, I know practically nothing about football, and I only watch it on TV for twenty minutes tops before I get bored, but it was different being here. I’m not sure you’d call it fun since you’re the one being chased and occasionally tackled, but I loved it. I didn’t like seeing you get tackled like that, of course, but you know what I mean. It was almost better than watching you work out in the kitchen—almost.” I paused to take a breath. I was awestruck, and I didn’t mind him seeing that in my face. “I want to do it all over again, right now. You were really great, Dylan.”

The deep blue in his eyes sparkled with an emotion I couldn’t name. “You said that already, Flash,” he murmured, his deep voice sending a thrill through my body.

I swallowed and moved my head up and down, because I was having trouble coming up with more words, and yeah, I had said that already—a few times actually. My brain was telling me it was time to leave before I started rambling.

When Dylan looked over his shoulder toward the field, I looked that way too. A few of his teammates had already started to head for the locker rooms.

“I should let you—”

I stopped speaking when Dylan’s gloved hand—his huge gloved hand—cupped my cheek and gently tilted my face up. The world around me slowed down, and I stood still. I swear to you, I watched his eyes roam my face in slow motion.

“I like having your eyes on me, Zoe.”

I managed to force a nervous smile. His thumb moved on my cheek, rendering me…basically completely helpless.

Forgetting myself, forgetting where we were, I whispered, “I like watching you.”

His tongue peeked out and touched his lower lip. “I know.”

Oh, Dylan, why did you do that?

“I meant I like watching you—liked watching you play tonight. I didn’t mean it to sound like I like watching you when you’re not playing. I definitely wouldn’t watch you if you were just standing there, or I don’t know…I wouldn’t watch you when you’re working out, and I would never watch you if you were—”

“You know why I like watching you?”

The question shut me up pretty quickly, which was probably for the best; who knew what else I would spew out.