Chapter Eleven

Blake

I 'm not typically a nervous person. I'm paid big amounts of money to make big plays in front of thousands of people—millions if you count those who are watching on TV. But you wouldn't know it with the way my stomach is fluttering. As I head into Willa's building, I'm drumming my fingers against my thigh. It's a gesture I don't allow myself to give in to much anymore, but apparently it's still there when I don't have a football field to sprint out on.

I've driven and walked by this building hundreds of times since I moved to Nashville to play. I've wondered what it looked like on the inside, but when I found out that Willa lived here on the penthouse floor, I instinctively wanted to know what that was like.

Tonight, I'm going to get my wish.

Walking up to the concierge desk, I clear my throat and shake my head before I repeat the words that Willa told me. "Hey, I have a delivery for Phillip in the basement apartment."

The concierge does a double-take, but then gives me a smile. "Yes, sir." She motions me over to the bank of elevators. There's a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, marble floors, and huge mirrors everywhere. This is way out of my league, but on the ride up I need to convince myself I belong here. "Use elevator three. It will take you where you need to go. You don't need to press a button."

"Thank you."

This is so much fancier than anything I've ever seen before, even thought I'm friends with plenty of milionaires. For a brief moment, I get the insecurity of being a child in a family with parents who had to work three or four jobs sometimes to make ends meet because both me and my brother were in sports. It was never easy for my parents, which is why Bret and I make sure everything is taken care of for them. They sacrificed most of their lives so we could be where we are right now.

The ride up is quicker than I'd expected, and too soon the door is opening. I'm greeted by Kevin. "Evening." He nods in my direction.

"Hey." I give him a dumb wave. "Had I known you were going to be here, I would've brought you something too." I hold up the bag of Daddy's Dogs.

He waves me off. "Seeing you take care of Willa is all I need. She's waiting for you inside; no need to knock."

Going in without knocking is an intimate gesture to me. As a kid, we weren't allowed to visit anyone's house without asking their parents if it was okay, and we weren't allowed to take liberties either—like walking in without knocking.

"Hey, Kev." I turn to face him before I go in. "What floor are we on?"

"The eighteenth. This truly is the penthouse. Her condo encompasses the entire floor."

God, I'm in over my head, but I've never been the type to not go for what I want. If there's anything I've learned in this life it's that you have to put yourself out there.

Slowly, I enter, knocking carefully, against the doorframe. "Will?"

"Over here." Her voice is small in the large living space, and looking out at the bay window is like looking out at the edge of the world. Downtown Nashville is lit up in all her glory, but it's nothing compared to the woman on the couch.

She looks absolutely exhausted with dark circles under her eyes, but she's still beautiful. "Rough week?"

Her answer is on a small chuckle. "Some are worse than others—I'm sure you understand that. I'd rather not talk about that right now, though. I'd much rather take a look at what you have in that bag." She nods to my hand.

I lift it toward her. "Do you want a plate? I can grab us one if you tell me where they are." I eye her light-colored couch, already imagining it being stained.

"I don't need one, but I understand if you do." Her blue eyes throw down the implication that I'm a messy eater.

"I'd hate for you to drop something on your couch in front of me." I smirk.

"Oh please—I don't you to embararass yourself. My accountant about had an aneurysm when I told him how much it was. He asked me if I was sure I wanted to purchase it because maybe next year I wouldn't be able to shake my ass, and I might wanna save that money. It would almost be worth it to go back to him and tell him I need to buy another." She seems to contemplate the idea for a few minutes. "Anyway, they're in the third cabinet over the stove. I'll take one if you wanna give me one."

I open the door and notice how organized everything is in there. I wish I could be this way, but I need a housekeeper weekly. Reaching in, I grab two plates and bring them over to where she sits. "Here ya go."

She opens the white container, inhaling deeply. "God, I miss this kind of food when I'm on the road. I usually have to follow such a strict diet that this kinda stuff isn't a good idea, but tonight? It's the only thing that sounded good." Her blue eyes are filled with excitement as she takes a bite and moans as she chews.

"I've wanted to ask you about that." I take my hot dog and place it on the plate, balancing it on my knees. "What did you do to get ready for the tour, as far as cardio goes?"

She finishes her bite, using her tongue to swipe up a tiny bit of ketchup on her lips. "I took the entire set list, and anything that was remotely fast paced, I ran through it. All the slower songs, I jogged or fast walked. I started eight months before the tour, and then we worked in the choreography."

"That's so much dedication. Do you find any shows harder than others?" I take a drink of the bottled Coke I bought.

"Oh yeah, most definitely. Anything in a hot, humid climate is harder. I'm glad I live here most of the time, because it helps, but it's still hard to deal with. I try to do part of my training in a sweat suit, because it helps. I'm sure you understand." She tilts her head to the side. "At least I'm halfway naked when I perform. You have a bunch of pads on."

"Is that why you wear what you do? Because it's cooler?" I'm in awe that I'm sitting here having this conversation with her. It's one of those surreal moments when I'm not sure whether this life is actually mine or someone else's.

She smiles, her red lips breaking apart to show her white teeth. "Yeah, plus this way there's nothing for me to get caught on, when dancing or walking. I'm pretty klutzy naturally."

"So am I. I'm sure you saw the footage of me eating it while dancing in the end zone my rookie year."

She laughs loudly, throwing her head back. "I might have watched a couple of times just to see your chest bounce off the ground."

I grab my heart. "That wounds me, and it fucking hurt when it happened."

"I'm sure you'll be fine. At least your high heel didn't break on your boot in the middle of a dance move. I barely saved it. I knew if I didn't, it'd be all over social media, and I'd never hear the end of it. There have been a lot of embarrassing things that have happened to me, and that was just one of them I didn't want to see. I could imagine my head smacking the stage and losing my two front teeth." She sighs heavily. "Nightmare fuel."

I smile softly over at her. "Even with no front teeth you'd be beautiful."

She closes her eyes and scoffs. "You're so good for my ego."

"That's what I'm here for, baby."

She tosses a French fry in my direction as we smile at each other. I swallow heavily. I've had my fair share of relationships, but Willa? This shit is easy right here, and that's scary as fuck, but I'm going to lean into it and allow whatever this is to develop.