Chapter Nineteen RHETT

The day is a grind, but that’s expected for a Monday. Weight training at six in the morning, followed by a short but intense practice isn’t the easiest way to start the week, but according to Coach, it’s necessary. Can’t lie, it felt pretty good pushing my body to the limit with training. Having the guys surround me, yelling their encouragement as I increased my bench press weight. They cheered me on when I lifted the heaviest weight yet for me, and I enjoyed every moment of it.

Not as much as I enjoyed spending my Friday night with Will, though.

Catching her in front of the library had been a pleasant surprise. Swear to God she gets prettier every time I see her. What’s even better? She doesn’t seem to realize what her body or her sway has over me.

Girl has a lot of sway. Might even go as far as to call it power. She could snap her fingers and I’d come running, willing to do whatever she needed from me. Does that make me whipped when we’re not even in a real relationship yet? Is that wrong? If so, then I don’t want to be right.

I’ve never felt this way about a girl before. Like I can’t stop thinking about her. Like I’m obsessed with her. Because I am—obsessed with Willow Lancaster. I want to know every little thing about her. What she likes, what she doesn’t like, what makes her laugh, what makes her cry. Once I find that out, I will do my damnedest to never risk seeing her tears. They’d probably destroy me.

Man, I’m overdramatic on this fine Monday morning.

By the time I’m strolling into English class, I spot my pretty girl sitting in her usual desk, a faint smile on her face as she stares at her phone screen. I just stand in the open doorway, people pushing past me to enter class, waiting for her to notice me. As if she can sense me staring, she lifts her head, her gaze finding mine, and the secret smile that curls her scarlet lips has my heart picking up speed.

Willow ducks her head like she’s shy, her hair falling over her face, shielding her. Damn, that’s cute.

I enter the classroom, catching that one chick Alana watching me, her upper lip curled in disgust. I send her a dismissive glance, not in the mood to deal with unwarranted bitchiness on a Monday morning, and I settle into the desk right behind Willow’s, tugging on a strand of silky dark hair to get her attention.

“Hey.” I drop my backpack at my feet, leaning forward so I can catch a whiff of her sweet scent. Whatever perfume she wears or lotion or whatever it is, reminds me of candy. As in, the girl smells good enough to eat.

“Hi.” She turns to the side, almost facing me but not quite, her lips curled into a closed-mouth smile. “How are you?”

“Better now that you’re in front of me.” Speaking nothing but the truth, which has her cheeks turning pink.

Adorable.

“Did you see your friend glaring at me?” I ask her.

Willow’s gaze goes immediately to Alana before returning to mine. “We had a minor confrontation this morning in front of the library.”

“When? How did I miss this?”

“It was after you left. I ran into her and she immediately started saying snotty, hurtful things toward me.”

The wounded look on Will’s face is like an arrow to the heart—and not a good one either. “What did she say?” I sound pissed.

I am pissed.

“It really doesn’t matter.” She waves a dismissive hand. “She hates me. I accused her of putting on a show in front of me with Silas to make me jealous.”

“She probably does,” I say gruffly, annoyed. Why anyone would want to fuck with Willow is beyond me. “I hope you put her in her place.”

“I did.” Willow waves her hand again, like she wants to sweep this conversation away. “How’s football going?”

I like how she’s asking about it. And how she phrases it kind of awkwardly too. “Practice was intense. We’re prepping for our first game, which is an away game and I hate that.”

“You hate away games?” She’s frowning like she doesn’t get it.

“Well, sort of. It’s always better to have homefield advantage, but what I really don’t like is when the first game of the season is away. I prefer to kick off the season at home,” I explain.

“Why is it an away game then?” She sounds genuinely curious.

“The schedule switches every year. Last year, our first game of the season was at home. Actually, the first two were, and then we played three away games. It’s always changing every year.”

“Oh. I have no idea how any of it works.” She nods, smiling faintly. “I hate to admit it, but I know absolutely nothing about football.”

“Not a problem, Will. I can teach you everything I know,” I drawl, pleased to see her cheeks turning that rosy shade of pink again.

More than willing to teach her whatever she wants to know.