Page 9 of Irresistibly Us
“You can thank me by buying breakfast in the morning. And when I’m hungover, I eat a lot.”
Her voice is muffled against my hair, and it makes me smile again. I pull back and then kiss her cheek. “Oh, I know. Consider it done. All the strawberry pancakes you want. You really are my favorite person, you know.”
When she flashes me that grin of hers, my entire world lights up. Nothing could ever be wrong when my best friend smiles at me like that. “I know I am. I’m fabulous. Now, I know you’re a big deal Super Bowl champion and you’re probably running onadrenaline and good vibes or whatever, but us mere mortals still need sleep to function, so let’s do that.” She reaches up and pulls down her sleep mask then tugs the covers up to her chin, snuggling into her pillow and making herself a cozy little nest.
“Did you have to get the mask with the eyes?” I ask, rolling onto my back and smirking up at the ceiling. “It’s really fucking creepy, Soph.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you somehow forget that I’m letting you sleep in my bed out of the goodness of my heart? I’m saving you from the cleat chasers in your room instead of sleeping all alone and diagonally across this giant bed the way god herself intended, and you repay me by making fun of my sleep mask?” Sophie lets out atsk. “Interesting choice, Harry. I think maybe you and the cleat chasers deserve each other.”
“Nooooo,” I whine, smothering a laugh because honestly, she really does look ridiculous with that mask over her eyes and her mouth set in a scowl. But Sophie’s wrath is unpredictable, and I really don’t want to sleep in the hall. “The mask is perfect. You’re perfect. I’m a slave for you, Sophie Sullivan. I owe you breakfast and then so many more things for saving me from the strangers in my bed and being the best friend a guy could ever ask for.”
“That’s more like it,” she grumbles, tugging the covers up higher. I settle into the pillows, and we both lapse into silence. Just when I think Sophie is asleep, her hand slides over, and she links her index finger with mine the way we’ve been doing since we were little kids.
“Hey, Ty?”
“Yeah, Soph?”
“You won the Super Bowl.”
I feel the grin explode across my face, my entire body lighting up at her words because what even is life right now? “I fucking did. I’m really glad you were here to see it. Winning wouldn’t have been the same without you there.” They are the truest words. I’ve played thousands of football games in my life,and my best ones—win or lose—are always the ones where I get to look up and see Sophie in the stands.
She squeezes my finger with hers. “No place I would rather be. Forevs, Harry.”
I smile into the darkness at the familiar words. The ones we made up as kids, promising each other that we would be best friends forever and ever no matter what. In this comfortable bed, with Sophie next to me, my brain quiet and settled, I am content right down to my toes. “Forevs, Sal.”
CHAPTER THREE
TYLER
“Hey, look who finally decided to show up.”
My teammate and friend, Renegades wide receiver Drew Ellicott, smirks at me as I slide into the chair across from him at a big table in the corner of the hotel restaurant. “Fuck off. We said breakfast at ten. It’s ten twenty. I’m not that late.”
He scans me up and down and snorts out a laugh. “Why do you look like a walking advertisement for the New Orleans Chamber of Commerce right now?”
I glance down at the blackNew Orleanssweats I’m wearing, along with a gray T-shirt that saysBeign-Yayin black cursive with a silk-screened image of Café Du Monde below the words, and shrug. “I didn’t exactly have…access to my clothes this morning aside from the champagne-drenchedSuper Bowl Championshirt and, gross. So, I had to do a little early morning shopping at the hotel gift shop. It was this or a T-shirt with a cartoon crayfish on it that saidLet’s Get Cray.” I look back down at my T-shirt and grin. “I think I chose well.”
Drew studies me, calculating look in his eyes, and I resignmyself to the forthcoming interrogation. “Why didn’t you have access to your clothes? Did you lose your hotel key or something? You know the front desk can just make you a new one.”
I roll my eyes. “No, can you please explain to me how hotels work? I only have a genius-level IQ, a photographic memory, and spend five months of the year on the road.”
“I always forget about the genius IQ.” My other good friend on the team, offensive lineman Cam Lowry, slides into an empty seat at the table and flashes me a shit-eating grin. “That doesn’t seem like something you should have.”
“Seriously, is this dunk on Tyler morning? I won us a Super Bowl yesterday, or have you forgotten already? Where’s the respect?”
Drew scoffs. “I’m pretty sure you can’t throw the ball and catch it. Want to try that again?”
I cross my arms over my chest and scowl, mainly because they expect me to. I fucking love these guys. I’m lucky enough to have grown up with a huge family of my own, cousins who are my best friends, and friends who are as close to me as family, like Sophie. But playing on the same team as Cam and Drew, the way they took me under their wing during my rookie season four years ago, has bonded us in a permanent, almost inexplicable way. Growing up with four younger sisters, I didn’t really know what it was like to have brothers, but now I do because I have these guys. “Fine, we won ourselves a Super Bowl. Where are Maddy, Ry, and Ethan?” I ask Cam.
His grin widens at the mention of his kids and his girlfriend Maddy, who also happens to be one of my and Sophie’s oldest and closest friends. They got together earlier this season and made it official the day of the AFC Championship a couple weeks ago. They’re perfect for each other, and after losing his wife when his son Ethan was a newborn baby, no one deserves happiness more than Cam does. But watching the way he lights up talking about Maddy makes waking up with strange women in my bed feel even bleaker.
“They’ll be here in a few. They wanted to check out the gift shop.” He looks me up and down the same way Drew did a few minutes ago. “Looks like you already did that. What’s with the tourist attire?”
Drew barks out a laugh, leaning back in his chair. “I asked him the same question, but you showed up before he could answer.” He pins me with a look. “Now you can tell us both.”
I open my mouth, but before I can say anything, a server approaches with menus and a coffee pot. She pours us all coffee, and I dump milk and sugar into mine before taking a big sip. “There were girls in my bed,” I mumble, fortified enough from the caffeine hit to tell the truth.
“Like, girls, plural?” Cam asks, taking a sip of his own coffee.
