“Did you hear the news?”

I nod as his strong arms hold me tight. “I did. I told you so!”

He smiles as wide as the sky. “This is the one time I don’t mind hearing ‘I told you so.’”

“Then I’ll say it again. Told you so.”

He sets me down and grips my shoulders for emphasis. “Three years, Vi. I’ve watched every single play from the sidelines with the exception of two games I started when Jeff sprained his ankle. Three. Whole. Years. And come September, I finally get my chance to start the season.”

That champagne feeling when I read the news? It has nothing on the rocket ride I’m on now. It’s not even my news. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve rooted for Cooper my whole life. “I couldn’t be happier for you. This is so amazing.”

His hands curl tighter around me. “I wanted you to be one of the first people to know.”

“You did?” This information sends a dangerous thrill through me.

“Hell yeah. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I told my mom first, and I had to see you next. I knew you’d be excited.”

“I’m glad you came here,” I say, my voice a little softer, and even though I want to believe he’s telling me because he harbors the same crazy, lifelong crush as I do, I know better. That wedding dance and the closeness I felt that night was a sliver in time. It hasn’t been repeated, but our friendship has grown even stronger.

Now that my brother’s married and busy with his wife, Cooper and I talk more. He’s here every few weeks for his haircut, and when he comes by in the evenings, we usually grab dinner after. That’s why he stopped by today. Because we’re friends. Great friends.

I give his hair a quick once-over. “I don’t think you have an appointment for a few days, but if you’re going to be the starting quarterback, we need to give you a haircut.”

He bats his eyes. “Think you can fit me in?”

“It just so happens I had a cancellation, so I can give you a quickie.”

A laugh bursts from his mouth. “A quickie? Hell yeah.”

I swat his arm as I realize my faux pas. “A quickie cut.”

“Other quickies are fine with me, too,” he says, a little flirty, a little dirty.

“Get over to the sinks,” I say, trying my best to make light of the comment, so he won’t notice the fierce blush radiating over my cheeks.

Quickie.

What was my brain thinking, letting that word spill out?

He parks himself in a chair at a sink, and I partake of one of my favorite things—shampooing his hair. He shuts his eyes and sighs contentedly as I scrub in the shampoo, lathering it up.

I take my time, making sure I don’t miss a single strand, running my fingers through those lush locks, massaging his scalp.

I rinse his hair, my hands running through his hair one more time to get all the suds out.

Another soft sigh falls from his lips, and it makes my heart flutter.

If he were mine, I’d do this every few weeks, and then we’d kiss, and he’d bring me close, and we’d slink away for a little while.

I squeeze the brakes on the fantasy, shut off the water, and run a towel over his head. We head to my booth, and he sits in the black leather chair, where I cut his hair.

I have free rein to look at him, to study him, to touch the soft strands.

As I snip his locks, I pepper him with questions about how the news came down.

He tells me he heard from his agent, and tomorrow is his first press conference.

I rest my hand on his shoulder and meet his gaze in the mirror. “And you’re going to look so handsome.”

A grin crosses his lips. “Thank you.”

I run my hands over his hair, enjoying this opportunity to touch him more than I should.

Maybe that makes me a pervert. It’s only hair, really. But it’s great hair. I relish the chance to make him look his finest, to take care of him in this small way I can.

I move closer, trimming the ends. His gaze drifts up in the mirror, his brown eyes locking with mine.

He says nothing. He simply stares at my reflection. I could be wrong, I could be reading something into nothing, but I swear there’s heat in his eyes, maybe a little flicker of desire.

It makes my breath catch. My heart speeds up. My pulse hammers.

It’s the same look I saw at the wedding. It’s the look I see when our bodies move closer when we seem to connect in unexpected ways.

I stop snipping for a few seconds, trying to get my bearings. I want to know what’s going on in his head.

But soon enough, it’s time for him to go. As he leaves, I’m hit with the realization that I need to find a way to let go of this lifelong crush once and for all. I need to focus solely on the friendship, because that’s the only thing that lasts.