15. Tanner

FIFTEEN

TANNER

"Tanner!" Bill says, shaking my hand and pulling me into a quick bro-hug. "How are those two-a-days treating you? Your dad told me they've got you as their starter right now. Congratulations!"

I give him a tight nod. "Yes, sir. We've got a good QB room this year, but they wanted experience under center, so they gave me the nod."

I'm trying to be humble, but I'm fucking relieved that a month into practice, I've secured the starting position. Honestly, I don't think there was really much competition, but it's still nerve-racking to know that one or two bad days could've cost me my entire future. That's football for you, though. You could be on top one day and plummeting to the ground the next. Being in a position to be drafted in the first round by my dream team isn't something I'll take for granted. I know I need to keep my focus on that until they call me up to that podium in April.

It's early evening and I got home from practice about an hour ago. I haven't seen Grace all week because my schedule has been jam packed, but it's Friday and I have two whole days to spend with her. If I can find a way to get her alone, that is.

Tonight, our families are cooking out in the Valentines' back yard. It's never easy being near Grace and not being able to kiss or touch her, but we usually meet up earlier in the day to be alone and curb our urges to be close to one another. Unfortunately, we couldn't make it work today. I had practice from eight to eleven this morning, then again from two to four this afternoon. By the time I made the forty-five minute drive from campus back to Hope Harbor and showered, it was time to walk over here for dinner.

"Well, I'm proud of you, son," Bill says, patting me on the shoulder. "You'll have to excuse me," he says. "I haven't laid eyes on my beautiful wife in hours and I'm itching to see my girl."

Same, bro.

I give him a quiet chuckle as he slips past me and into the kitchen to find Libby. My parents have already started moving around the house, helping bring food out to the patio, which leaves me alone in the entryway to scheme. I know it's risky, but I can't wait any longer to kiss Grace. Quietly making my way up the stairs, I pray I'm still going unnoticed as I hit the landing, turning down the hall toward her bedroom. I knock softly, but when she doesn't answer, I twist the knob to find it unlocked. At first, I push it open just enough to peek my head in. She sits at her sewing table, and even though her hair is falling down over her shoulders, I know she has her earbuds in. Whatever she's listening to must have a good beat, because she bobs her head back-and-forth as she pushes the white fabric through the machine. I watch her as she works, clearly lost in whatever genius piece of art she's creating.

I push the door open all the way, leaning onto the frame and crossing my arms in front of my chest. She looks so beautiful and happy. I'll stand here all day and wait for her to notice me if I have to. Fuck our parents. If they catch me in her room watching her with hearts in my eyes, so be it. It's not like Riggs is here to have to explain all of this to since his team is still in the playoffs, which I'm thankful for. I don't know what Grace and I are anymore, but I can tell you that this thing went beyond friends a long time ago.

The past couple of months have been the best, most exciting ones of my life. And it's not just the sex, although it is by far, the best I've ever had. There's so much more to what we have that makes me count down the minutes until I'm with her again. Sometimes, it's chasing her around the lighthouse while she screams and laughs, trying to escape me. And sometimes it's the way we banter back-and-forth, always knowing what buttons to push to get the other going. But my favorite times are the ones where we're not talking at all. Where we're just holding one another, with nothing to do and nowhere to be besides right there in each other's arms.

I know we have our whole lives ahead of us, and that we have to stay focused on school and everything that comes after, but I can't say there isn't a part of me that secretly wishes we could just say fuck it all and be together. That thought almost knocks me on my ass because, even though it was fleeting, there was a moment there where football was the last thing on my mind.

"There," she says quietly, cutting the thread and holding the piece up in front of her. It's a jersey that she's clearly pulled apart and put back together as a dress. It's cut up the sides and held together with crimson ribbon, tied into little bows. It isn't until she turns it around that I realize whose jersey it is. Across the back is a giant block number 6 and my last name in big twill letters. My mind races as I think about seeing her in it, and being able to pull on every single bow, slowly and carefully unwrapping her like the gift she is.

I'm so gone for this girl, it's unreal.

She turns around, jumping in surprise when she sees me. " Oh my God, you scared me!" she whisper-shouts, yanking her earbuds out with one hand while clutching the jersey against her chest with the other. "I almost peed!"

"Again?" I say with a laugh. It took me about a week after her little squirting incident to convince her it was nothing to be embarrassed about, but I can't help myself sometimes. Giving her shit for it is so much fun.

She rolls her eyes. "You're such an asshole. Just for that, I'm not showing you what I made."

She has no idea I already got a good look at it, and she won't either, because I'm going to play dumb. I want to see her light up when she reveals the piece to me and tells me all about how she made it. She's so passionate about designing custom clothing, and it radiates from her when she talks about it.

I close the door, but leave it unlatched so nobody downstairs hears, before stalking over to her. "C'mon, baby," I coo. "Be a good girl and show me." I know the last thing I should be doing is kissing her in the house with our parents here, but I can't help it when she looks up at me and a smile blooms across her face.

I weave my hand into her blonde waves and press my lips to hers. As much as I wish I could savor the way she tastes, I know I won't be able to stop myself from taking her right here if I deepen the kiss, so I pull back. She sighs contentedly, leaning into my palm before creating a small amount of space between us and holding up the dress.

I do my best to act completely surprised, widening my eyes and letting my jaw hang open. "Is that my jersey, Bunny?" I ask.

"Mhmm," she hums, clearly very proud of herself. "I thought I could come to a game this season and show it off. If that's okay with you," she nervously adds. "I mean, if you don't want other girls seeing me in it, I understand. I jus?— "

"Grace," I say, cutting her off, "the only girl I care about seeing with my name and number across her back is you."

She gives me a shy smile, tucking a strand of her hair behind one ear. "Oh. Okay, cool."

God, she's so fucking pretty.

I go to sneak one last kiss, but just as I lean forward, the door swings open loudly.

"Hey, loser! Miss m—" Riggs says, stopping when he sees me. My body stiffens for a few seconds, then I jump away from Grace like she's got the goddamn Bubonic Plague.

"What are you two doing in here?" he asks. "With the door closed."

I stand there, looking guilty as fuck, trying to think of what to say that isn't ‘I was just considering fucking your sister into the mattress really quick. Would you mind giving us about fifteen minutes?' but I'm frozen. Thankfully, Grace has managed to keep her head on straight.

"What are you doing here?" she says, trying to turn her shock into excitement.

"We lost in the last round of playoffs, so I'm free for the rest of the summer," he says, eyebrows raising like he's still looking for the answer to his question. I'm still standing there like a statue as Grace speaks again.

"I was just showing Tanner this jersey dress I made for him. He," she pauses, swallowing roughly, "wants to give it to this girl he likes."

Riggs' face relaxes and he gives me a sly smile. "You fucking dog. Did you bag yourself one of those Harvard bookworms? I bet you they're freaky as fuck in the sack. I guess you'd already know that, though, since you've been doing the ol' pump and dump all over campus for the past three years."

I cringe, because the last thing I want to do is talk about fucking other women with Grace around. Not even to save face in front of my best friend. "Something like that," is what I settle on. "Uhh, thanks for making it for me, Bunny," I say, turning to her and taking the piece from her hand.

"No problem," she says quietly, turning back toward her table. I want to reach out for her. Hold her. Tell her I love the jersey and can't wait to see her in it. But I can't do any of that. Not in front of Riggs.

"C'mon, man. Let's go get some grub then call a few girls to hang out with later. Earmuffs, baby sis," he says to Grace, and without turning back to us, she loosely puts her hands over her ears. "I haven't gotten my dick wet in three weeks. I hope you saved some pussy for me while I was gone."

I choke on a cough, because he'd fucking murder me right here if he knew that the only pussy I've been inside recently was attached to his sister. "There's plenty left for you," I croak.

"Nice," he says, reaching up for a high-five, which I'm able to play cool long enough to return. I follow him out of the room, hoping to catch her eye as I go, but she keeps them glued to the table, not moving until we're out of sight.

Fuck.