I look down, then back up. “You’re not what I expected.”
He leans in, forehead nearly touching mine. “Good. I don’t want to be.”
My breath catches. “You scare me.”
His voice drops. “Do I?”
“Yes,” I admit. “But not in the way I thought I’d be scared.”
He tilts his head. “Then how?”
“Like you see things I don’t want anyone to see.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then: “I do. And I’m not looking away.”
I blink, heart thudding. “Why me?”
He smiles, slow and devastating. “Because you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted tokeep.”
I look at him, heart thudding, the jersey still clutched in my lap. “You could have anyone on this campus,” I say quietly. “Girls are fawning over you every day.”
His expression doesn’t shift. He doesn’t smirk. He doesn’t deny it. He just leans in, eyes locked on mine, voice low and deliberate.
“I don’t want anyone else.”
I swallow hard, but he’s not done.
“They want the version of me I let them see,” he says, thumb brushing my jaw. “The charm. The body. The game-day smile. But you—“ His voice drops, almost reverent. “You saw me when I wasn’t performing. You looked at me like I wasreal. And now I can’t fucking breathe without thinking about you.”
My breath catches.
“I don’t chase,” he murmurs. “I claim. And I’ve already decided—you’re mine.”
“You’ve derailed me,” I whisper.
His brow lifts, but he doesn’t speak.
“You’ve inserted yourself into my life like you belong there. Like you’ve always belonged there. And I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t plan for it. I didn’t count on it.”
He watches me, silent, unreadable.
“My routines are how I survive,” I say, voice trembling. “They’re how I stay upright. And now I’m forgetting steps. I’m skipping counts. I’mchangingbecause of you.”
He leans in, eyes dark, voice low. “Good.”
I blink, stunned.
“I don’t want to be another number in your life,” he whispers. “I want to be the reason you stop counting.”
His eyes are locked on mine, dark and unflinching, and then, without warning, he closes the distance.
His lips crash down on mine.
It’s not gentle. It’s not tentative. It’sclaiming.His hands are firm at my waist, anchoring me in place, and for a split second, I freeze. My breath halts. My body goes still. The world narrows to the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his grip, the pulse roaring in my ears.
Then I lean in. Slowly. Willingly. Like something inside me has been waiting for this exact moment to break open, and maybe it has. I’ve had a crush on him for years.
My fingers drop the jersey, and I clutch his toned arms.
