Page 22 of Praised By the Cornerback

“It’s late.”

“It’s barely midnight.”

“I’ve got an early morning.” Practice doesn’t start until eight, same as every day, but it’s the best I’ve got.

Connor doesn’t argue, though. He nods and looks away.

I say brief goodbyes and let myself out. The hallway is quiet except for the hum of an ice machine down the hall. I take the stairs down to the fourth floor instead of waiting for the elevator.

My room feels too quiet after the noise of Connor’s. I drop my key card on the desk and sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted.

Leaving was the right move. Giving Connor space to do whatever he wants. I have no claim on him. No right to feel territorial or jealous or whatever this tight feeling is.

I lie back on the bed fully clothed and stare at the ceiling.

The problem isn’t that I don’t know what I want. I want Connor. I’ve craved him since that first night at the club in Miami when he sat across from me talking trash, and I couldn’t look away. It’s not just physical, though I’ve never wanted anyone like this. I want his attention, his trash talk, the whole stubborn pull of him.

But wanting him and being able to have him are two different things. Connor is straight, as far as I know. That morning was just an experiment for him, a way to get off without much thought behind it. He’s spent the entire week acting like it never happened.

Maybe tonight is good. Maybe he’ll hook up with Isla, and it’ll reset whatever strange tension has been building between us.

The thought should be reassuring. It’s not.

I close my eyes and try to sleep, but all I can see is Connor on that bed with Isla leaning close, the easy tilt of his smile. The image sits heavy in my chest, sour and wrong.

I roll onto my side and punch the pillow into a better shape. This is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. Connor Knox is not mine to be jealous over. He’s not mine at all.

But I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me tonight when I walked into that bar. Like he’d been waiting for me, glad I came.

And now I’m lying here wondering if he’s even noticing my absence, or if Isla’s managed to pull his attention away from me.

That’s when someone knocks on the door.

7

Connor

I knock on Adrian’s door before I can talk myself out of it. My heart’s doing that stuttering thing it does when I’m nervous but won’t admit I’m nervous. I shove my hands in my pockets and wait, wondering if this is the stupidest thing I’ve done all week.

The thing is, Isla and Erin were perfectly nice. Isla kept touching me and laughing at my jokes, and at some point it became clear she wanted to stay. Erin gave me this look like she was asking if I wanted her to leave so Isla and I could be alone. And I just couldn’t. I told them I was tired, training camp was kicking my ass, maybe we could hang out another time. Isla looked disappointed but handled it gracefully, and they left.

Then I sat there in my room for maybe five minutes before I was out the door and heading down to the fourth floor.

I hear footsteps on the other side. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

Adrian’s standing there in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, his hair pushed back like he’s been running his hands through it. His eyes go wide when he sees me.

“Connor.” He glances past me into the hallway. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong. I just…” I rock back on my heels. “I sent Isla and Erin back to their hotel.”

His eyebrows lift and he steps aside, holding the door open. “I see. Come in.”

I walk past him into the room. It’s as neat as I remember. His shoes are lined up by the door, his jacket folded over the back of the chair. The bed is made, though the covers look rumpled on one side like he was lying on top of them.

The door clicks shut behind me, and I turn around. Adrian’s watching me with that unreadable expression he always has, the one that makes me want to do something stupid just to get a reaction.

“Do you need anything?” he asks.