First Down (Beyond the Play, #1)(44)

“Laura!” I hit her shoulder, laughing, as I pull away.

She arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “You can’t tell me a guy like him doesn’t have a huge package. I’ve seen how tight his football pants are.”

She’s not wrong, of course. But I’m not about to give her the satisfaction of confirming it.

“I always wondered what girls talk about alone,” I hear James say. “Now I know you’re just as dirty as the guys.”

I spin around. He’s in the doorway of my bedroom, wearing a leather jacket and a McKee football t-shirt. A grin breaks out on my face; before I can register what’s happening, I’m in his arms, planting a kiss on his lips. I feel his hand come up to stroke through my hair.

“How did you get in here?” I demand.

“You left the door open.” He makes a chiding noise. “You’re lucky it was me who walked in, you know. You could have been murdered by the next Ted Bundy.”

“You can murder me any time,” says Laura with a grin.

I roll my eyes. “You’re still cool with me coming?”

“Of course. Real question is if you’re cool with my off-key car singing.”

“As long as it’s the classics.”

He grabs my suitcase before I can and wheels it into the main area. “Which are?”

“Brittany Spears, mostly. Vintage Beyoncé. Spice Girls,” Laura says. I glare at her, but she just holds up her hands. “What! Babe, you know I’m with you on this.”

James groans. “I change my mind. I’ll meet you there.”

I smile at him innocently. “No, you don’t.”

“Have fun and make good choices!” Laura calls as we head downstairs.

When we get on the road, I settle back in the stupid-comfy passenger seat of James’ car and scroll through my Spotify playlists. I’m still not over the fact he drives a Range Rover. It’s only going to take us a couple hours to reach Penn State, but I want to make the most of my time in his fancy car. There are butt warmers and everything, a fact I appreciate in the chilly weather.

“Are you actually going to flip when I put on this playlist?”

James glances over for half a second before settling his gaze back on the road. “Put on whatever you want, baby.”

“It won’t mess up your pre-game routine or whatever?”

“My routine doesn’t start until game day.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, giving me another look. There’s a light pink flush on his cheeks. “And I’m hoping to add new routines, anyway.”

My heart does a somersault; I can’t help smiling. “Oh yeah?”

“Waking up next to my girl can’t hurt.”

My girl. The words fill the air, the car. Part of me wants to ask about it, but I don’t want to ruin the magic, not now. It’s good enough to know I’m his girl.

I pick out the pop playlist I use when I work out, and Rihanna’s voice starts to play from the fancy speakers.

And almost immediately, James starts to sing along.

I turn to him with delight. Apparently, he knows every word to “Umbrella,” and doesn’t seem at all bothered by that. His voice is awful, but he sings with such conviction I can’t help but join in, wiggling my body to the beat. When the song ends, we’re both breathless with laughter, and his hand is on my thigh, squeezing lightly. Possessively. I look over at him, but he’s busy checking the mirrors before merging into the next lane.

I never gave much thought before to whether driving is sexy, but you know what? I’m loving this.





Before James, I liked football, but honestly, I didn’t care enough to learn all the intricacies. I watch football on Thanksgiving at Aunt Nicole’s like the rest of the country, and thanks to Darryl, I came into this knowing the basics. But watching James play has gotten me into it on a whole different level. He’s faster than you’d expect him to be, and his passes are like bullets arcing through the air. I wince whenever he hits the ground, cheer whenever he escapes a tackle, and screech like a banshee during each touchdown.

Still, McKee barely makes it out with the win.

“My heart’s still racing!” Debra Sanders says as we head down the stairs after both teams leave the field. James got me a seat next to Bo’s mom, and we hit it off over the course of the game. I know way more about Bo now than he probably wants the girlfriend of his teammate to know, like how his nickname throughout middle and high school was “Stinky.”

“Bo made an awesome block right at the end,” I say. “He saved the game.”

“Don’t you know it. My baby’s going to fit right in with the big guys in the league.”

She gives me a hug before we part ways, patting my cheek fondly. She’s about my height, with this awesome pink streak in her braids that I complimented her on the moment I saw her. “It was nice to meet you, Bex. I don’t know James too well, but he seems like a good boy. Darryl wasn’t good enough for you.”

That makes me tear up unexpectedly. “Thank you.”

“Now, if only Bo would find himself a nice girl. I told him to bring someone home for the holidays, but something tells me he’s been ignoring that.”

I laugh as she heads off. “Bye, Mrs. Sanders!”