“I’ve heard you’re superstitious. What’s one pre-game ritual you have?”
He chuckles like this is no big deal, but if you come between Ezra and his pre-game habits, he flips out. He has to eat the same meal. Beforeeverygame. He even weighs the chicken breast on a scale. He has to wear the same wristband he’s had since high school. And God forbid you wake him up even a minute before his game-day alarm goes off.
Ezra smiles and brushes his black hair out of his eyes. “I don’t really do much. Mostly I make sure to say a prayer so I can stay focused.”
I change the channel before I hurl. After a few minutes, I settle back and watchFriendswhile I wait for Billy. But by the time he knocks on the door, I’m a hot mess.
When I answer the door, his eyebrows furrow as he looks me over. Before I can say anything, he opens his arms and I rush into them.
“What happened, my little biscuit?” he asks as he squeezes me in a tight hug.
Tears burn my eyes, and I push my face into his chest. “I don’t know. One minute I was fine, and the next, this commercial came on about baby food. And the baby was hungry and started to cry, and…”
“And that made you cry.”
I nod against him as more tears flow down my face. “I know that sounds crazy, but now everything makes me cry. I want my hard shell back.”
He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. “You don’t need your hard shell with me. I got you.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try to calm down. Once I have a hold of my emotions, I step back. “Sorry about that.”
He gives me a sweet smile. “No worries, Rox. Come on. Let’s go grab some dinner. How does pizza sound?”
My mouth waters at the thought of hot cheese and sauce, but then I realize I probably have smeared makeup on my face since I just smashed it to his body. “Let me go clean up first. I’m sure I look scary.”
“Don’t do it on my account. I always think you look beautiful.”
A tightness wraps around my throat, and I sniffle. “You’re not allowed to say anything else that nice to me today unless you want me to cry again.”
He chuckles. “Deal. Now get your ass in gear.”
That’s more like it.
We reach the pizzeria half an hour later. When the hostess finally seats us, we get separated from her because this place is packed. So Billy grabs my hand and takes the lead, easily parting the crowd for us.
I shouldn’t like how good it feels to hold his hand. This isn’t a date. We always nab dinner together. This is just two friends enjoying a meal.
As I trail behind him, I give in and check him out. His hair is damp from a shower, and he’s sporting some dark wash jeans that mold perfectly to his ass. And although he’s not wearing cologne, I can still smell the spicy scent on his letterman jacket. I love his cologne. It’s doing things to my insides.
People yell out to us, but Billy tightens his hand on mine and waves with the other, never stopping to chitchat, which I appreciate. I’m not in the mood to socialize tonight.
We scoot into a booth in the back and order drinks. When the waitress walks away, he leans back and drops his arm over the back of the booth and watches me. I love his intensity. It’s one of the things that really draws me to him, but having it focused on me right now makes me squirm.
I try to hand him a menu, but he shakes his head. “I already know what I want.” Our eyes lock, and the way he looks at me makes me feel likeI’mon the menu. Breaking his stare, I scan the pizza toppings as he slouches back. “Are you excited about your brother?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Deacon?” My younger brother is a wide receiver for Notre Dame, which is my father’s alma mater.
“Yeah. You know, since he’s transferring to Lone Star.”
My head jerks up. “What are you talking about?”
His eyes widen, and he looks away. “Well, this is awkward. Uh, your dad announced that your brother is coming to play for the Broncos.”
“Are you serious?” I don’t give him a chance to respond before I break out my phone and text Deke.WTF? Why am I hearing that you’re transferring to my school from one of your teammates instead of you?
When I don’t say anything else, Billy ducks his head until our eyes meet. “Sorry, Rox. Didn’t mean to drop that on you.”
“The people who should be apologizing are in my family.”
