The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(28)

“Good music.”

“Yeah?” I raise a brow at her.

“Really good music.” She winks. “Anticipating such a moment and knowing the importance of music during a road trip, I made a playlist. I made two, actually.”

“Two? That’s dedication.”

She blushes and says, “Well, I did two because I wasn’t one hundred percent sure of who I would be traveling with. So, I made a generic one with classic road trip songs, and the other, well, the other is more for you and me.”

“You made a playlist just for us?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then.” I move closer to her, those innocent eyes cutting me deep, and I say, “Let’s get going so I can hear this playlist.”





“Oh, sweet Jesus, these are good,” Hazel says, humming over a German puddingbrezels we picked up from one of the stalls outside of the hotel. Berdine told us before we left that we had to grab one for the road. Being that we’re going with the flow, we bought a few, along with a cup of heiβe schokolade, also known as hot chocolate. We learned that it’s not made from a powder or a mix, but rather an actual chocolate bar melted in milk. Hazel couldn’t order fast enough.

Still familiarizing myself with the car, I pick one up from the box and take a bite, ready to put it back down, but think twice when the flavors hit my tongue. Driving can wait. I need to eat this now.

“Holy shit, they are good.”

“Dare I even try the hot chocolate? The guy said there’s an entire chocolate bar inside. I’m not sure you’re ready for Sugar High Hazel.”

I laugh. “As long as you don’t turn into, as you like to call it, Sicky Belly Hazel from eating too much sugar.”

“I can’t be held accountable for what happens today with my consumption of food. If later you find yourself lying next to me on our new bed, rubbing my stomach while I cry tears of sugar, then so be it.” She takes another hefty bite of her puddingbrezel and moans softly. “I really think I might start crying now.”

“I might drop the whole football thing and go for food-and-travel blogger instead.” I take another bite of the puddingbrezel, savoring the flavors.

“I think I’ll join you in that endeavor. We could pitch a show to the Travel Channel. Who wouldn’t want to watch Hazel and Crew travel the world?”

“Crew and Hazel,” I correct her, putting my name first. “My idea, after all.”

“Ugh, don’t be that guy.” She takes a sip of the hot chocolate and her eyes widen in surprise. She lets out a long, drawn-out moan.

“You know, the moaning doesn’t have to be part of the eating process.”

“Are you insane? Of course it does. That’s how you express how great something is . . . you know, like sex.” She grants me a beaming smile, and I just shake my head.

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t be moaning.”

She licks some of the pudding out of the pastry and asks, “Are you getting turned on, Crew?”

“Why did I know you were going to go there? Oh yeah, you’ve turned into a pervert.”

Arms spread as far as she can in our small car, she says, “This is how I am. Take it or leave it.”

I pick up the hot chocolate as well, and before sipping, I say, “I guess I’ll take you as I can get you, and that’s only because I’ve missed this—missed us.”

“I’ve missed us too.” She smirks and then we both clink our cups.

Together we sip and then . . . moan.

Shit, this is really fucking good.

She eyes me over her cup. “See? It’s totally moan-worthy, but you don’t seem ready to pull my pants off and bang it out.”

“Why are you the way you are?” I ask.

She pauses, giving it some thought. “Honestly, I think I spent too much time with the chickens. The hens chip-chirping all the time does something to your conscience.”

I shove the rest of the puddingbrezel in my mouth before starting the car. Once I chew and swallow, I say, “At least you can recognize where the issue might have stemmed from.” I nod toward the radio. “Hook us up with some tunes, Haze. We’ve some road to cover.”





When Hazel said she made us a playlist, she wasn’t kidding. Back in high school, we used to send each other emails that consisted of songs we needed to listen to. Hazel tended to drift toward Indie music I’d never heard of, whereas I would pull up oldies that my mom and dad always played on Sundays when we’d clean the house together as a family. I was the only kid in my school who spent Sundays cleaning. Everyone else had a cleaning service that cleaned their house every week. Even though Mom and Dad easily have the money, they always kept things “normal” with me. They said I would thank them later.

Haven’t found that gratefulness for dusting just yet.

“I can’t get enough of his voice,” Hazel says. She pulled her legs up to her chest earlier on in the car trip and has kept them there ever since. She’s small enough and flexible enough to fit curled up on the seat. I would look like a buffoon if I tried to mimic her position. As it is, my chair almost hits the backseat, it’s pushed so far back.

“I remember the first time you sent me a Lumineers song. I was skeptical initially since it was once again another band I’d never heard of before, but the moment I heard Wesley Schultz’s voice, I was sold.”