Chapter 21

twenty-one

. . .

Asher

I’m not usually one to linger after sex. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it—I mean, obviously—but the whole sticking around and getting cozy thing? Not my style. Or at least, it wasn’t.

But with Sloane? Everything feels different. I’m obsessed with her. It’s not just her body—though that’s enough to drive any man insane—but her mind. The way she talks, the way she challenges me without even trying, the way she’s got this razor-sharp wit that leaves me scrambling to keep up. It’s sexy as hell.

Everything about this woman has me hooked.

She shifts slightly, murmuring something incoherent as she tucks herself closer against me. My arm tightens around her automatically, like my body’s decided on its own that letting her go isn’t an option right now. Even asleep, she’s fascinating—like she’s dreaming up some brilliant comeback she’ll hit me with later.

I’m not sure when I started craving more than just her touch. Maybe it was the way she called me out the first time we met, completely unafraid. Or maybe it’s the way she looks at me, like she sees through the walls I’ve spent years perfecting. Whatever it is, it’s messing me up in ways I didn’t think were possible. And for once, I’m okay with it.

I glance down at her, and damn, she’s beautiful. Not just in the hot girl at a party who knows she’s hot way, though she’s definitely that. No, there’s something else—something about the way her lips curve even when she’s half-asleep, or the way her hair falls in wild waves around her face. It’s…unsettling, if I’m honest.

Because I like it. I like her.

And that’s dangerous.

I drag a hand down my face, careful not to disturb her, and stare up at the ceiling. What the hell am I doing? This wasn’t supposed to be a thing. She’s not supposed to be a thing. She’s Jacklyn’s best friend. She’s supposed to be a quick, dirty secret—a fun distraction, nothing more.

But the way she looked at me tonight? Like I was the only guy in the world?

Yeah. I’m screwed.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the silence, and I carefully maneuver out from under her. She stirs, frowning slightly, but doesn’t wake up as I grab the phone and step into the kitchen.

It’s a text from Brian. Of course it is.

Brian: Thanks for letting me crash your night. Feel like an idiot, but you were right. Gonna talk to Jacklyn in the morning.

I stare at the screen, my jaw tightening. Brian’s a good guy, but the dude is clearly overthinking everything. What’s more frustrating is how much of a spotlight he’s put on me and Sloane without even realizing it.

Brian might not be suspicious now, but if he keeps this up? If he starts noticing the way I look at her, or how she’s been sneaking out of Jacklyn’s place at odd hours?

Yeah, I don’t even want to think about what happens then.

Another message comes through, this one from Joe DeRollo, the backup quarterback.

Joe: Coach wants a pre-flight check-in tomorrow morning. You good for 8?

Right. The Texas game. The reason I’m supposed to be staying out of trouble, staying focused. But trouble is literally sleeping on my couch right now, wearing my hoodie, and looking like the best damn decision I’ve made in months.

I’m scrolling mindlessly through my phone, pretending not to be overthinking everything, when I hear a sharp intake of breath from the couch.

Sloane bolts upright, her hair wild, the blanket slipping off her shoulders as she looks around like she’s forgotten where she is.

“What time is it?” she blurts, her voice laced with panic.

I glance at the clock on my phone. “Four-thirty.”

She groans, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m going to have to explain this to Jacklyn.”

I lean against the counter, crossing my arms as I watch her scramble for her shorts and sweatshirt. “You could just tell her the truth.”

She freezes, glaring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Tell her what? That I’ve been sneaking out to hook up with you? Yeah, great idea. Let me get right on that.”

I chuckle, stepping closer as she wrestles the sweatshirt over her head. “You’re acting like you just robbed a bank. Relax, Sloane. No one’s going to catch you.”

She scoffs, shoving her hair out of her face. “You don’t know that. What if someone sees me walking back? What if Jacklyn’s already up and wondering where I’ve been all night?”

I reach out, catching her wrist before she can bolt for the door. “Hey. Breathe.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the panic in them softens. I pull her closer, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“Look, I get it,” I say, my tone softer now. “You want to keep things drama-free. I can roll with that. But you don’t have to treat this like a covert mission every time.”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly as she leans into me. “I’m having fun, Asher. I really am. I just…I don’t want to deal with the fallout if this gets out. Not yet.”

Her honesty hits me harder than it should, and I nod, letting go of her wrist but keeping my hand on her waist. “Okay. No fallout. No drama. Whatever you need.”

A small smile tugs at her lips, and she presses a quick kiss to my cheek before stepping back. “Thanks.”

I follow her to the door, watching as she slips on her shoes and pulls the hoodie tighter around her. She pauses, glancing back at me.

“You know, for what it’s worth, you’re making it really hard to stay low-key,” she says, her tone teasing but her eyes soft.

“Good,” I reply, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Means I’m doing something right.”

She shakes her head, laughing softly before slipping out into the early morning.

I watch her go, the faint clank of the metal stairs fading into the quiet. The door clicks shut, and I lean against it, the smirk slipping from my face as I stare at the empty room.

Low-key, huh? Yeah, this is going to stay low-key for about five minutes.

And I can’t decide if I’m dreading that or hoping for it.

The sun beats down on the field, and I can feel the sweat dripping down the back of my neck as I adjust my helmet. Practice is going fine—better than fine, honestly—but I can tell Coach isn’t buying it.

“Knox!” he barks, waving me over as the defense sets up another drill.

I jog to the sideline, tugging off my helmet as he crosses his arms and levels me with a look.

“You looked loose in the first two games this season,” he says, his tone blunt but not unkind. “You were focused, fluid, and everything clicked. But last game? You were tense. Uptight. And you know what happened—we lost. So, what’s the deal?”

I frown, running a hand through my damp hair. “I don’t know, Coach. I’m doing everything the same—film study, reps, nutrition…”

He narrows his eyes. “Then think harder. Is there something different about your routine? Your pregame ritual?”

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. My mind is already spinning, running through every detail of those first two games.

And that’s when it hits me.

Sloane.

I hooked up with her the night before the first game. And the night before the second one. But last week? Nothing.

Shit.

I’m not superstitious. I’m really not. But now that I’m thinking about it, it’s impossible to ignore. Those nights with Sloane? They left me feeling lighter. Looser. Like I had my head on straight and nothing could throw me off.

“Knox?” Coach’s voice snaps me back to the present.

“I’ll figure it out, Coach,” I say quickly, nodding.

“Good,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Because we can’t afford another off week. You’re the leader out there. Act like it.”

I nod again, turning back toward the field, but my mind is already somewhere else.

Later, in the locker room, my phone buzzes in my bag. I pull it out, smirking as I see Sloane’s name on the screen.

Me: What are you doing Friday night?

Sloane: Hmm. Why? You miss me already?

Me: I have to leave for Texas. But I need to see you before I go.

Her reply comes faster than I expected.

Sloane: So a daytime hookup? That’s dangerous.

Me: Dangerous is kind of our thing.

Sloane: True.

Me: I’m serious, though. I need you.

There’s a pause, and then she hits me with:

Sloane: We can do Friday. Noon. Library. Third floor, back corner.

Me: The library? What, are we going to study together?

Sloane: If that’s what you want to call it.

I grin, but then another thought hits me.

Me: What about before then? Can I see you tonight?

The typing bubble appears, then disappears, and when her reply finally comes through, it’s not what I want to hear.

Sloane: No can do. Jacklyn and Brian are already getting suspicious. We need to let things cool off for a couple of days.

I frown, leaning back against the bench as the guys start filtering out of the locker room. I don’t like it, but she’s probably right.

Still, that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy for her.

Flipping to the camera app, I angle the phone just right, standing in front of the locker room mirror. The lighting is perfect, highlighting the cuts of my abs and the line of my hips as I drop the towel and take the shot. Full frontal. No holds barred.

I send it without a second thought.

Her response comes almost immediately.

Sloane: ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?

I laugh, imagining her reaction as I type back.

Me: How’s that for a cool off?

Sloane: You’re so mean.

Me: Mean? Or unforgettable?

Sloane: …both.

I smirk, tossing my phone back into my bag. The thought of her staring at that picture, biting her lip the way she does when she’s trying not to react, makes the corner of my mouth tug higher.

She might think we need to cool off, but I’m not about to let her forget me. Not even for a second.