Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

brOCK

If the guys hadn’t convinced me to do something big for Presley to make up for the way I shut her down when she kissed me, I would have told her last night. Kissed her about two seconds after I walked in the door. She gave me this look over her shoulder when she walked across the room that said she knew exactly why I was staring at her. She smirked.

Presley Tatum smirked at me.

She’s gonna say, “I told you so,” when I tell her how I feel. I deserve it.

So even though I wanted to admit everything and then have her snuggled in my arms while I read, I didn’t. The guys are right that Presley deserves some magic. I can only imagine how she must have felt after I told her I didn’t feel the same, and the courage it took for her to save our friendship after that humiliation. Besides, I’ve already decided she deserves the world.

There’s a text waiting from Alexis Sterling when I get out of practice on Friday night.

Alexis Sterling: I chatted with Laura, who runs the Rays’ social media. She’s up to help you make some TOK videos to post to your account and the Rays’ account. They love it .

Brock: You sure you need me? After what I found out on Tuesday, I think you know plenty of people on your own to get TOK movies made.

Alexis Sterling: Trying to back out?

Brock: I would never.

Alexis Sterling: Gideon refuses to use his other success for TOK. He wants it to make it on its own. Someone well known like you hyping it will push the success we got from the launch of book sixteen even further.

Brock: Then I’ll definitely do my part. What you did meant the world to Presley.

Alexis Sterling: I’m glad you demanded. Gideon was very moved by his interaction with her. Looking forward to the videos.

Brock:

Hopefully Laura will let Presley be in the videos too. We’re hanging out again tonight to read, so I’ll take a video and send it to my social media manager to post to my accounts.

Presley comes over to my suite at the hotel where I’m still staying. I haven’t had a chance to find a place to live yet, which I need to do soon. I’m getting sick of living in a hotel. Lincoln and Layla have a couple extra rooms at their house, which they’ve offered to let me stay in if I want, but I need my own space.

Presley’s wearing a pair of black joggers today with a Rays logo on the pocket. They fit her tighter than any pair of joggers I own, but I keep my perusal of them quick and turn my attention to her yellow Rays hoodie.

“You seem to have an endless supply of those.”

“Bet you have a ton of Devils’ gear.”

We chat about the plans for the Christmas party next week—I’m meeting Presley at her apartment, where her parents will pick us up to take us to the party with them.

We settle on the sofa in the suite, and the setup isn’t nearly as cozy as at her apartment with the Christmas songs, the tree, the pumpkin pie and cider, and the YouTube video with the crackling fire for ambience. At least I can pull that part off. I press play on the large TV in the room while she opens the book to find our spot. I’ve already texted her about making a video for social media tonight, so she sits next to me to make it easier, and once the video is recorded and sent off, she stays there.

She reads for about half an hour and then stops. It’s been common for us, discussing the things happening for a few minutes before the reader moves on. But she doesn’t say anything as she pushes the book into my lap.

“You’ll need to read,” she says.

I eye her. “Is your voice already tired?”

“No. I saw Kael’s name on the next page. I won’t be able to read their reunion.” Her cheeks turn a deep shade of pink, and I nearly brush my fingers across them to feel the heat of her skin, to lean over and gently kiss each one. Sometimes the way I feel about Presley seems sudden. The spark I kept wondering about instantly bursting into a bonfire. Other times, my feelings are so natural and normal that I feel like the idiot the guys have implied I am for not seeing it sooner. I would do anything for her. I want to be with her always. I just didn’t see it until I couldn’t text her or call her after she kissed me—and even then it took time for me to understand what my missing her meant.

“I know it’s stupid,” she continues. “But I’m going to cry. I can already feel it.”

I am so smitten with the way she loves these characters. They’re like shared friends to us. I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her against me, taking the book in my other hand.

She huffs, and I furrow my eyebrows and look down at her. “What?”

“The way you can hold that in one hand is so unfair. That book has to be over a thousand pages long.” The pink that hasn’t left her cheeks deepens again. I would like to splay this hand across her back and press her to me. I stare at her, my brain contemplating the pros and cons of sticking with the plan I came up with for me to tell Presley how I feel at the Christmas party. Her parents are in on it at this point.

“Read the book, Brock,” she says softly, her voice drawing me closer even though I shouldn’t. Not yet.

There is no conceivable reason not to kiss her right now. I like her. I really like her, and I fall harder every minute I’m with her. Unless her feelings have changed in the last week, she likes me too.

I’ve almost convinced myself when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I look at the preview of the text on my watch.

Eli: How’s it going? You laying down the foundation like we talked…

The rest of the text is hidden until I scroll. I quickly put my hand down. Yeah, you could say I’ve got the foundation well and started.

“Something you need to take care of?” Presley asks.

“Nah. Ready?” I mean that on so many levels. My reaction to her kiss could have scared her away completely. She might already be over me, although I don’t think that’s the case. She’s sitting here, snuggling me … sure, you could argue this is a friend thing, but we’ve blurred the lines since Tuesday, and she knows it. But sticking with the plan for the night of the Christmas party is a good idea, just in case.

She nods at me, and I turn my attention to the book. By the time I get to the way Lyra and Kael run to each other, and how Lyra sobs into Kael’s chest at seeing him alive and whole, tears are dripping down Presley’s face. When she catches me glancing at her, she buries her face against my side.

“Pres,” I say softly. “Gideon is good at this. No wonder he’s a best-selling romance author.”

She waves a hand around but doesn’t pull her face from my side. “Keep reading.”

I hold back my smile and tighten my arm around her. I put my lips into her hair, take the briefest of inhales of the herbal scent, and kiss her quickly. If snuggling the way we are is blurring the lines, that was definitely a step over them. I can’t gauge any reaction from Presley except that she might have stopped breathing.

That could be about her crying over the book. I turn my attention to the book, continuing with the scene, and a few pages later, after Lyra and Kael thoroughly kiss and then sit down to plan how they will sneak into the Palace of Azrion, Presley pulls her face from my side and sits up.

“You know what she means by ‘I’ll take care of the portal,’ right?” I say, laying the book face down on the arm to take a few sips of the water bottle I set at the foot of the couch.

Presley points a finger at me. “No, Brock. It’s not because she’s the Obsidian Queen. It means she has a spell to get them through.”

I put a hand up in fake surrender. “Whatever you say.”

She huffs and pushes on my side. “She is not the Obsidian Queen.” I only smile in response.

She takes the book back, and we read for another hour before we reluctantly stop since we both have to work in the morning. My day will be more chill than hers, with some meetings and then checking into a local hotel later. Even though it’s a home game, the team stays in a hotel the night before to keep us focused and make sure we get the rest we need, along with it being a good way for the team to bond. All my friends’ wives complain about not being able to come. Now I understand, considering I’d much rather be hanging out with Presley tomorrow night.

“I probably won’t have a chance to talk to you until Monday, huh?” she says as she moves toward the door. I follow to make sure I get a goodbye hug.

Monday is the night of the Christmas party, so thankfully I don’t have to do this much longer. “Meeting at your house at six. ”

“On the nose.” She bobs her head at me as she reaches for the door handle. We’re sliding quickly into awkward and that’s the last thing I want. I reach over and pull her into a hug, fighting back every other temptation—like holding her for longer than a few seconds or tilting her chin back and pressing my lips to hers. Tuesday we were so effortlessly touchy that it’s like I want to slide right past the new parts of a relationship where you question everything into a place where we’re a couple who kisses goodnight. I guess that’s what being friends first will do. I think of the way Lincoln swore it was the best way to go.

The night I met Presley, I was so drawn to her. Was it the necklace? Was it the way she smiled at me the first time I met her gaze? Did I start falling for her even then? I missed what’s right in front of me because I focused so much on the little details. Details are my business on the field—what it means when a guy is lined up wrong, how the twitch of another lineman’s arm can cue me in to where he might be moving. But I was so caught up in how I was supposed to feel about Presley on that detailed level—what a spark between us would feel like, if there was warmth where she touched me, how my stomach reacts to being near her—I missed the overall rightness of her in my life. The joy she brought. The craving of needing to be around her.

“Brock,” she whispers. She’s tilted her head away from me. Yeah, this hug has lasted way too long for just friends. Definitely too long for two people who are supposed to be focusing on just being friends.

I meet her eyes. She tilts her head slightly in a challenging way. She knows how I feel. Has she been waiting for me to see it, like the guys?

“I’ll see you Monday,” I say, not letting her go.

She arches an eyebrow at me. “I’ll see you Monday.”

I lean over and kiss her forehead. She knows, and she deserves the magic of me admitting I was wrong. I told you so .

Monday.