“I’m counting on it. You’re radiant when you’re kicking my ass at arcade games.”
“Well then, Hot Shot, lead the way.”
Chapter Twenty
Asher
“The last milkshake might have been a mistake,” Julie says, as she stumbles into the lobby of our hotel. “I can’t feel my toes.”
I wrap my arm around her waist to steady her and grin, utterly charmed by drunk Julie, with her cheerful disposition and mile wide smile and her willingness to cling to me so she stays upright. “That’s the perfect amount of drunk.”
As we walk across the lobby to the elevator, she looks up at me with a considering expression on her face. “How do you figure?”
“Well, any less drunk and you would just have a stomachache from too many milkshakes. Any more drunk and you’d spend some time with your head in the toilet, and you’d have a killer hangover tomorrow. You are exactly in the middle, and on the drunk/sober continuum, that is the perfect place to be.”
“Continuum is a good word,” she says absently. While we wait for the elevator, she leans her head against my shoulder and rolls her neck so she’s looking up at me. “You know, you’re pretty smart for a football player.”
“Quarterback, Juliette. I’m a quarterback.”
“A hot ass quarterback,” she mumbles under her breath.
My grin widens. “Hot ass, huh? Tell me more.”
She reaches up and pokes me in the cheek. “Nuh uh, Hot Shot. I’m not that drunk, just the perfect amount, remember?”
The elevator dings with its arrival and when the doors slide open, we walk inside. Leaning up against the back wall, I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her honey vanilla scent. “Everything about you is the perfect amount, Juliette.”
“I think you might be perfect for me, Asher,” she whispers, resting her head back on my shoulder and closing her eyes.
I close my own eyes at that and take a few deep breaths. I try and remind myself that this is drunk Julie who has no filter and will likely regret saying this in the morning, but it’s no use. Hearing her say that twists up my insides because I want to be perfect for her with a fierceness that, until Julie, has been reserved for football and football alone. But for the first time ever, I can see what my life might look like one day after football is over, and it looks just like her.
Too fast, Asher. Way too fast.
But it’s no use. This train has already left the station.
The elevator opens onto our floor, and with my arm around her waist, we walk down the hall. The hotel didn’t have any separate room available, so I booked adjoining rooms, which I’m grateful for now so I can hear Julie in case she gets sick in the middle of the night. Standing in front of our rooms, I dig around in my pocket and find her key, holding it against the door until I hear the lock disengage.
“Come on, Juliette. Time to get you into bed.”
“Good idea.” She walks into the room, and with a dramatic sigh, flops down on the bed and collapses backwards, her feet hanging off the side. I drop to one knee and take off the Converse she wore out tonight. You wouldthink high-top Converse would be out of character for Julie, but somehow, they make perfect sense. Everything about her makes perfect sense to me. Setting aside her shoes I ask, “Where are your pajamas?”
She cracks open an eye and hits me with a sexy smirk. “You going to undress me, Asher?”
Lord give me strength.
“Not tonight, Juliette. Tonight, I’m going to get you your pajamas and make sure you’re hydrated before I tuck you into bed. So where are they?”
“Over there.” She gestures towards the big suitcase sitting on the luggage rack in the corner. On my way to the suitcase, I flip the lock and open the adjoining door. Then I unzip the suitcase and right on top is a matching pajama set—pants and a long-sleeve shirt covered in tiny pink hearts. I smile at them because she really does contain multitudes. I want to unravel every single one of her layers.
I grab one of her hands and pull her into a sitting position, handing her the pajamas. “Do you think you can get dressed by yourself?”
“I’m not that drunk. Just the right amount, right?” Without warning, she tears her shirt over her head, revealing a black lacy bra. It stands out against her creamy skin, and I can see the shadows of her nipples beneath the thin material. Julie. Half-naked. On a bed. Black lace.
Jesus take the wheel.
“Let me help you there.” As fast as I can, I grab the shirt and tug it over her head. Once she has her arms in, she reaches back and unhooks her bra, and in the sexiest fucking move I have ever seen, she somehow manages to pull it off her shoulders and slide it through one of the arms of her pajama shirt. Women really should be ruling the world.
I have to get out of this room and calm the hell down before she takes her pants off or it really might end me.
