It's not about the win. It's about him.
Jaxon ran to me. Not his teammates, not the cameras, not the crowd. Me.
He kissed me in front of everyone, in front of thousands of people, like he didn't care who was watching, like I was the prize greater than any victory on that field. The moment replays in my mind—the determination in his eyes as he sprinted toward me, the way he vaulted over that railing without hesitation, the fierce possession in his kiss.
Like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
I'm still trying to process it as we finally reach my car, and Lyla is not letting it slide.
"So," she drawls, smirking as she slides into the passenger seat. "What's it like to be bangin' the hotshot?"
I choke on absolutely nothing, my hands tightening on the wheel as I throw her a look. "Oh my God, Lyla."
She grins, flipping down the visor mirror to check her lipstick. "What? You saw him out there. He was a machine. And then he just—" she flails her hands dramatically, mimicking Jaxon running through the crowd, "—came straight for you like some damn romance novel hero. If you're not climbing him like a tree every chance you get, I have questions."
My face burns, and I focus a little too hard on pulling out of the parking lot. "We haven't…you know."
Lyla's head whips toward me, eyes wide. "Seriously?"
I chew my lip, keeping my eyes on the road. "Not yet."
She gawks. "Madison. He looks at you like he's legit starving."
My stomach flips, and I know she's right. I feel it every time we're close. The way his hands grip my waist like he's holding himself back. The way his jaw tenses when I tease him. The way his eyes darken whenever I do literally anything. The electricity between us has always been there, but lately, it's become nearly unbearable—a constant current humming beneath my skin whenever he's near.
I exhale, gripping the steering wheel. "I want to."
Lyla raises a brow. "Then what's stopping you?"
I swallow, my heart beating a little too fast. "Because…it's different with Jax."
She softens, tilting her head.
I shift in my seat, feeling too exposed. "It means something more to him. And if I'm being honest…I think it means something more to me too." The admission feels like ripping off a bandage, exposing a truth I've been hiding from myself.
Lyla watches me for a second, then nods. "That makes sense."
I glance at her. "It does?"
She shrugs. "Yeah. Jaxon's not some random hookup. He's… Well, Jaxon."
I smile slightly. Because, yeah. He is. That's exactly why I've been holding back.
Jaxon Montgomery isn't just some guy I can give a piece of myself to and walk away from. He's already woven into every partof me—into memories stretching back to childhood, into quiet moments on his parents' roof, into the person I am today. He knows me in ways no one else does, has seen me at my worst and somehow still looks at me like I'm his everything.
And if I take that next step?
There's no turning back.
Lyla sighs dramatically. "Well, I support your emotionally responsible choices or whatever." She grins. "But I still think you should climb him like a tree."
I groan, shoving her shoulder as we pull into our apartment complex.
We make it upstairs, both changing quickly for the party. Lyla throws on jeans and a cropped tank, swiping on a fresh coat of lip gloss before giving me a once-over. "You're really wearing a sweater and leggings?"
I arch a brow. "Have you met me?"
She sighs. "Fair."
