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Epilogue

Cleo

Six Days Before Fall

The end of the summer didn't feel like an end - it felt like a new beginning. Sure, it'd been months of getting up way too early, gulping down white drizzle mochas, and waking myself up from meetings with the eighty-year-old donors. But it was the kind of summer I'd always remember.

The kind of summer they made songs about.

I just couldn't be happier with him .

Miles didn't just adjust to the team; he was part of them. It wasn't the same passive-aggressive snaps with KYU. He made a real effort. The small parties at Adam's places, movie nights at June's, he even ran extra practices with Ryan.

Every time I was on that field, going through magazine cover approvals with someone, he was there, in all his six-foot-glory, with his grown scruff and intense eyes.

How lucky can a girl be?

My last year at Marrs was going to be everything.

"Don't touch the blindfold," Miles scolded.

I tried not to giggle and failed, smack dab in the middle of the training center, stumbling down the hallway. He was the only one to get giggles out of me and this wasn't an exception. Especially for whatever surprise he'd planned out.

"Can I take it off now? " I asked.

He was firm. "Nope."

"We're on the elevator. I know where we're going. We're going to my office."

"I'll let you believe that."

Another giggle slipped out. He could show a whole other side to me that I couldn't recognize in a mirror. A happier me, a joyful me.

But what was the surprise? It had to be my office.

We stepped down the hallway and made a right turn.

"Hold on." He chuckled.

"Hold on—?"

Miles held my waist and my stomach dropped when he spun me around. All I could do was stumble and wrap my arms around his neck. The second he stopped, I tried to push away from him.

" Why would you do that?!"

I could almost taste his grin. "Guess which way we're going now?"

Damn.

"Miles, where are we going?"

His lips brushed against my own. The antidote to my exasperation. Miles . The lack of sight forced me to appreciate other things. His close-cropped facial hair brushed over my face, heightening my senses, his lips, smiling into the kiss, and his button-up shirt, dressed for our dinner at Gianna's .

He kissed me again. "This isn't the surprise."

"It could be." Knotting my fingers through his hair, I tried to pull him closer. My attempt didn't work.

"Not the surprise, Cleo. It's better."

"We aren't surrounded by people, are we?"

"Everybody cleared out for the day." My relief was palpable enough for Miles to laugh. "Don't worry, nobody's seeing you blush. Everybody still thinks you're the most stubborn, hardheaded, determined woman they've ever met."

"Including you?"

"Always."

Satisfied, I let him guide me down the hall and he opened a door.

"Okay, take three—no—take six or seven steps…I'll tell you when to take off the blindfold. Just walk forward. That's it. Keep going."

Actual excitement hit me.

Where are we going?

"Keep going," he encouraged me. "Okay. Now. "

I pulled the blindfold off and blinked in the sudden light of the sun. Lazy evening sunshine stretched from wide windows. I gazed out of them, stupefied, to see the training field below.

The War Room?

But it wasn't the War Room. No, it was better.

The windows had a fresh coat of white paint, no longer the brittle, chipped surfaces I'd gazed longingly at. To the right wasn't the crappy desk they'd hurried to rush in there. It was a real desk, cherry oak with a gorgeous gleam, and all the finishings on top. To the side, a projector connected to an enormous whiteboard. Everything professional, everything I needed, everything me .

The real prize of the fair was the coffee bar.

Cherry oak to match the desk, the coffee bar languished in its own corner. The pristine machines, the polished trays, the little Marrs mugs.

My breath caught in my throat, staring at the whole thing.

I swallowed. "They're making me head intern?"

"You got it, baby."

"I…I'm head intern?"

"You bet you are," Miles murmured.

Disbelief didn't rock me. Satisfaction did. I worked my ass off for that position. I took every call, I took every note, I cleaned up every image for the chance . And head intern was a guaranteed spot on the Marrs University public relations team for life.

But I gazed out at the room for a very different reason. " You did this."

"I definitely did not promote you."

"No— Miles , you did this. You upgraded the War Room for me."

"That I did. Everybody kept trying to convince me to go cheap with the materials, but there are pretty good sealing solutions you can buy with granite. Varnished wood too. My uncle knows a guy. Now, the coffee corner needs to be resealed once every six weeks—"

"Every six weeks?"

"And everybody said, she's not going to care, and I said, if you think she won't care about fingerprints, you don't know Cleo."

Stunned, I took a deep breath.

It wasn't like I couldn't have gone to the coffee shop in the training center. Miles knew that. But he went above and beyond to make sure that even in the middle of my future War Room meetings, I'd never be without my white drizzle mocha. Without my little cup of happiness that made the long days bearable.

"Hey, vixen?" Miles called to me. "Can you turn around? I don't have my knee pads on."

"Your knees?" I knew where that conversation would go, and I was about to remind him that there were at least a dozen windows in the office when I glanced back. "Miles?"

He was on his knees, a gorgeous grin on his face, and a little black box in his hands.

My mouth fell open.

"Are you coming closer?" he teased.

"What…what are you doing?"

A chuckle escaped him. "What'd you think I'm doing?"

It was silent in the War Room, the quietest I'd ever experienced in it. My heart hammered in my chest, no doubt loud enough for both of us to hear. Miles didn't say anything though, he kept the box in his hands.

"We're not just going to Gianna's tonight," he explained, his voice low. "Everybody's there. They're going to announce the promotion as soon as you step through the door. I'm supposed to distract you here while they get ready and I thought—hey—we might as well agree on this so I can do it publicly in front of everyone."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

"Because this is a big moment for you," he said gently. "And I didn't want to overshadow it without talking to you about it first."

"You're asking me to…?"

"Yes. A hundred times over. Yes."

I swallowed. "We're really…young to be…"

"I'm not going to leave, I told you. I've got to reseal the coffee bar in six weeks." Miles's comment was light, airy, but I felt anything but.

He shifted back, the ring still propped up in his hands.

"I was in a pretty rough place," Miles said. "Mentally, it was rough, and I was unhappy. I've got all these edges I have to live with and you're the first person I've ever met in my life that wants to fit in with them. You're the first person that's ever made me feel good about them."

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest.

Miles smiled up at me. "I want to spend the rest of my life resealing your appliances, vixen."

"You're going to be a professional football player —"

"Yeah. And, if you say yes right now, you're going to be my fianceé. Both of those are true. You, being my wife, is my end goal. It's been the end goal since the day we met."

He was going to say something else. I could feel it, but my heels hurried against the carpet and I threw my arms over his neck.

My wide receiver had nothing prepared for me, crashing against him. We flew to the floor, both of us laughing, and his lips found mine. It wasn't a kiss at the end of the day. It was a kiss to start the rest of our life.

"You're going to have to act surprised at Gianna's —"

Kissing him again, I teased, "I can do it if you can."

The conversation stilled when his hand wrapped around my waist. In a smooth motion, he slipped me to the carpet, easing me underneath him, and deepened the kiss, holding me tight.

"We've got to go," he groaned.

"You know what?" I whispered, running my fingers along his beard. "We could also use my office while everybody's away."

"Don't say that or I'll think you're not joking."

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm not joking."

"Fuck, you are a little vixen." He kissed my neck, long and delicious, and drew his tongue along my throat until I squirmed in his arms. "Cleo, you just sound so good with my last name, I couldn't resist."

"Cleo Locke," I whispered.

"Let every man in your contacts know."

Miles yanked up my skirt and removed my panties. That was where I belonged, right in his arms. He kept buried in my neck and ran his cock up my sex, groaning. I whimpered, barely able to hold on to him.

Quickly, he propped up my leg and eased inside of me. I'd never get used to it. I knew he wouldn't either.

We were going to be late to Gianna's .

But I really didn't care.

◆◆◆

Thank you so much for reading Change the Play! But remember that super grumpy team captain? The golden boy of Marrs University? Ryan Cross?

Yeah...he's getting into a fake relationship. With an art major who couldn't care less about sports.

As far as everybody else knows, it's a completely fake relationship. But when she gets a text from him saying 'fifteen minutes away,' she knows to stand next to his bed and put her hands on the blankets, waiting for him to come through the door...

Read Out of Bounds today!

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