HUDDLE
Gillian
SOMETHING VIBRATED IN my bed.
Not an unusual occurrence for a woman who had been single for nearly a year, but this time it wasn’t my Rabbit. I heard the buzzing from my bathroom as I was brushing my teeth, and I raced toward it with my heart thundering.
Typing out the text message should have been a no brainer. Composing exactly what to say to a guy who did crazy things to your body when he was around though, proved to be much more difficult than I thought it would.
Then again, with each sentence I tried to compose, I had trouble. I kept picturing his hard, lean muscled frame, the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips whenever I touched him, the flash in his eyes that I would catch every once in a while, and then there was that easy smile. It was the one thing I could never look away from.
For absolutely no reason, my hands trembled as I typed, backspaced, typed again, and then once again backspaced. At that pace, it had taken me so long to get the message just right I never hit send until nearly nine thirty.
And after I did, I had gone into full out panic mode.
Everything I was thinking, feeling, wondering about—it was wrong. Lucas was a player for the team I was interning with. It might not have been written in my contract to maintain platonic relations with the players, but I had been around football my entire life. To pretend I didn’t know it would be stupid. And I was anything but stupid.
What had I done?
I wished I could delete the sent text.
After having tossed my phone on my bed, I had rushed into the bathroom to see if the girl staring back was still me, and not some smitten version of myself I didn’t understand.
Thank God, I only saw me.
That’s when I grabbed my toothbrush and figured I’d go to bed, this way when he answered me, I wouldn’t be awake to respond.
It was nine forty and curfew was at eleven fifteen. If it was Lucas responding to my text, it wasn’t like we’d have much time together, so it couldn’t really hurt, could it?
But what was his response?
Yes.
No.
Kiss off.
When hell freezes over.
After I’d put him in his place the first day we met in the training center, things had been easier between us, but not exactly easy. There was a constant push and pull, and the space between us was filled with an odd electrical charge.
I think we both liked it that way.
Digging through the sheets, I found my phone right where I’d tossed it and closed my eyes, not ready to look at the screen.
I was being completely ridiculous. It wasn’t like I was asking him if he wanted to go on a date. This was work.
We’d met the past three mornings in the weight training room. His range of motion was improving. While discussing our progress with Dallas after dinner tonight, he gave me an off-the-books suggestion.
What I was doing with Lucas wasn’t anything anyone wanted to know specifics about, Dallas included. But he did know, kind of, since I posed it as a hypothetical the day I discovered Lucas’s shoulder problem.
He suggested I see Lucas’s arm in motion, real motion . . . like as he threw the football. That’s when I decided to ask him if he wanted to meet me.
The text that took nearly an hour to compose read:
Me: Lucas, this is Gillian. I was wondering if you wanted to meet at Ward Field and throw the ball around. I think it would help if I could see you in action.
His response had me rolling my eyes. It read:
Him: In action?
Me: Yes, as in, in motion.
Him: Are you asking me out?
Even with no one in the room, I felt my cheeks blaze, but then I regained my composure and replied.
Me: No, this isn’t a date. Stop being a dick. Do you want to meet or not?
Him: Tell me you miss me and you want to see me, and then I’ll answer you.
Me: Never.
Him: Then at least stop calling me a dick.
Me: Never.
Me: ☺
Me: I’m giving you five seconds to respond with a yes or no.
Him: Or what? You’ll spank me?
Me: Four seconds until I turn my phone off.
Him: What are you going to wear?
What was I going to wear?
Me: Three seconds.
Him: Will you wear your hair down, at least?
It was down. I could do that. I just needed to fix it.
Me: Two seconds, and I’m going to bed.
Him: I could join you.
Me: Goodnight, Lucas.
Him: Relax. I’m trying to have some fun. I just got out of the shower. I’ll be there as soon as I get dressed.
At that, I smiled to myself and didn’t respond. Instead, I scrambled to the small accordion closet and rummaged through it to find something to wear.
Even though this technically was work, I didn’t want to wear work clothes. Those tended to make me look either frumpy or young, depending on which version I chose.
Not that I should care.
This was going to be physical. I had to be able to move around. So jeans were out. Shorts might be too much. Obviously a summer dress wouldn’t be practical, even a T-shirt one, and besides, then this really would look like a date.
Which it absolutely was not.
In the end, I settled on a pair of lightweight black yoga pants and a matching cropped exercise top. With a thin white T-shirt over the top and my Converse, I felt comfortable.
I had the clothes because I taught yoga, and in fact, very soon I was going to be teaching the football players downward dog. In all honesty, I couldn’t wait. It was going to be so fun.
Before leaving I looked in the mirror. Turning my chin to one side, then the other, I caught my profile. Yes, it was still me looking back in the reflection. I hadn’t morphed into someone I didn’t know. I wasn’t one of those girls who got all dolled up for a boy.
Not yet, anyway.
I still had the same strawberry blond hair as my mother and the same green eyes as my father. I still had the same narrow hips and the same skinny legs as I always had. Sure, my arms were more toned, my belly flatter, and I was much taller, but none of that seemed to matter.
I had grown up, but when I was at camp, I still felt like that pigtailed little girl my father kept close.
That hadn’t changed either.
He was across the hall, and if the door was open, I’d have to tell him where I was going. I hoped it wasn’t.
Just before I was about to leave, I couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the way my nipples pushed through the fabric of both thin layers. Even with the sports top that acted as a bra, it was noticeable.
I had no doubt he’d notice. His eyes would go right to my chest, regardless of how very small it was. His eyes. On me.
I didn’t change.
All of the doors across the hall were closed, and when I saw that, I wanted to run, but settled on walking fast and taking the stairs.
The weather was so much nicer at night than during the day. The air was light and clear and warm. Bearable, as opposed to unbearable. Because of this, I took my time as I made my way toward the college’s football field.
It was south of campus, and rather isolated, so I was fairly certain no one would stumble across us.
I looked up to the clear sky with its shining stars and full moon. I was going to miss all of this. Not only the hectic days of training camp, but the quiet nights that followed as well.
When I walked through the metal gates, he was already there. He wasn’t looking my way. What he was doing was gripping a football with his right hand, and standing tall on the perfectly manicured turf like he owned it.
He looked like he did.
A slow, tumbling roll of sensation centered in my belly. I considered walking away and not even letting him know I’d come because this really was a bad idea. I already knew I couldn’t do that, though.
I couldn’t.
The moment my feet hit the plush blades of grass, he turned toward me with a smile so wide and bright and genuine that I felt the strangest pitter-patter in my chest.
I didn’t like it.
I liked it.
I was so confused.
Lucas was wearing cleats, gray sweats, and a Notre Dame jersey. Nothing out of the ordinary. What was different though from our morning therapy sessions was he had shaven and it actually looked like he might have styled his hair.
I wanted to lick his jaw and run my fingers through his locks.
That would be wrong on so many levels though. Wouldn’t it? Instead of doing anything even close, I gave him the barest hint of a smile. “Hi.”
It was then I noticed the half dozen balls on the field.
He had gotten here quick, and right to work.
“Watch this.” Scanning the field as if in the middle of a game, he pretended to lock on a receiver, and then he fully cocked his arm and pushed the ball away from his body in what was almost a perfect throwing motion. Almost.
“That was great,” I called as I continued to walk toward him.
He shook his head in disgust. “It was short.” He picked up another ball. This time he dropped his arm back like a fulcrum, and then circled around making a bit of an overhead swinging motion.
I wasn’t certain where exactly he was aiming, but it didn’t look quite right. “I’ve seen better,” I said.
That comment pissed him off, and he picked up the last ball at his feet. This time he managed to get a great extension behind his body and he came up and over in a nice arc. The problem was, that type of delivery was slow and not as accurate as the tight motion he should have been using.
Then again, he couldn’t, not yet.
It wasn’t that I was trying to be a quarterback coach, but I’d watched my father for years, and he was one of the best quarterbacks, after all.
I gestured to the field where the last ball sat. “That one wasn’t bad.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “It wasn’t great, either.”
There was this look of vulnerability about him I’d never seen, and I wanted to hug him.
Do. Not. Touch.
Changing direction, I jogged out onto the field and gathered the balls in an armful, and then hurried back to drop them at his feet. “Do that first one again, but with more power.”
“You’re lucky I don’t get insulted easily,” he told me, narrowing his stare.
“Sorry, just being honest,” I said without remorse.
His gaze grew even more piercing.
“Please,” I added to pacify him.
The sucking up seemed to work because he bent that powerful body of his down and picked up another ball. I shouldn’t have been watching him the way I was. Looking at his physique like I wanted to eat him, but he was so damn beautiful. The tight coil of muscles that marked his arms, the way he moved, the power he had. It was intoxicating.
Heat shot into my cheeks, and I took a step to the side. With some distance between us, I blinked those thoughts away and concentrated on watching the movement of his shoulder. Just like a slingshot, he pulled his arm back, released, and the ball propelled downfield.
With my blush gone, I clapped my hands together. “That was so much better.”
Ignoring me, he picked up another ball, and another, and another still. Using the same motion, he continued to arc the ball, but on the last one, the pullback wasn’t quite there. The swollen tissue was obviously impacting his range of motion.
When he was done, he turned to face me. “What? No more comments from the peanut gallery?”
I looked sideways at him. “I don’t have to say anything. Your eyes are saying it all after every throw.”
He snorted. “Uh-huh. Right.”
“They are,” I insisted, trying not to giggle.
Giggle.
How pathetic.
“Then tell me what they’re saying.”
The response was blurted out, meant to challenge me, and I was going to bite. “What I see is that you want to do better. That you know you can do better. That you will do better. You just have to keep trying.”
After shooting a quick glance at the balls on the field, he looked over at me and grinned. “That sounds a lot like therapist mumbo jumbo, but it’s not a bad assessment.”
“I’ll take that as an apology,” I laughed.
He stared at me with uncertainty.
“You doubted me.”
“No, not you.”
He didn’t say me, but I felt like it was on the tip of his tongue. “Don’t worry . . . I’ll get you there,” I said.
“What are you? Eeyore?”
This time, I burst into laughter. It was loud. Unfettered. And I stifled it with my hand when he grinned at me. “You know the lines from Winnie The Pooh?”
His blue eyes bore into mine, and for half a minute nothing else existed. There was something primal in his gaze, and it made me feel extremely vulnerable. If there had been any doubt this was dangerous, the doubt was gone. He stepped closer. “Does that surprise you?”
I swallowed hard, nodding. “It does.”
He purposely slid his gaze lazily down my body. “I wish it didn’t.”
My heart rate picked up, the blood rushing in my ears. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
With each passing moment, it felt as though he was stripping me naked. When he reached and took a piece of my hair to twirl it around his finger, I wondered if he felt the same crazy chemistry that I did. “You wore it down. I like it.”
That pitter-patter in my chest turned into a thump. “I did, but just so you know, I didn’t wear it like this because you told me to, it was already down.”
“I’m sure it was.” The grin he gave me was sly, knowing, charming. Before I could remind him not to use that on me, he slid his free hand into the open side slit of my shirt, right onto my bare skin beneath my cropped top. “I like this too. It makes you look—sexy.” He let the word hang in the air.
Again I submitted to laughter and reveled in it. “As opposed to when I’m not.”
His gaze had turned thoughtful, probing. “You are never, not.”
Just then a mosquito landed on my arm, and I stepped back to swat it away with a slap. This put some space between us, but not much.
He lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe a trickle of blood from my arm that puddled from the bite. I was closer to his bare torso than ever. Sure, his belly was tight, taut, with a light single line of hair trailing from his navel into the waist band of his low-hanging sweat pants, but this close, his belly button looked like pure perfection. I wondered how a dip and hollow could be so perfect.
“Thank you.” My breathing was loud.
His was too. “You smell good. What is the scent? I can’t quite place it?” he asked, coming closer once again and breathing in the air around me.
“It’s called Clementine California. I get it from an organic skin care boutique in Gainesville.”
He pressed his nose into the long strands of my hair. “It’s really nice.”
The first time I saw him I had been attracted to him. I’d thought it had been because I’d been away from football for almost a year and I was craving anything to do with it, or even perhaps because I hadn’t been with anyone in so long, and he had turned me on so easily.
Here, though, now, I knew neither of those were the case. I knew I wanted him because of him, and I also knew I shouldn’t.
Yet, that didn’t stop me from leaning into him as he leaned forward. That didn’t stop me from looking into his eyes. He swallowed, meeting my gaze, and breathed out without saying anything.
My pulse was racing.
All of a sudden it was really bright as each and every light turned on. “Hey!” a bellowing voice boomed from somewhere up in the stadium. “You shouldn’t be down there!”
Lucas grabbed my hand in a flurry and started for the gate. “Come on, Strawberry Fields. Time to get out of here.”
“But your balls,” I said, without thinking of how it sounded.
He laughed heartily as he interlocked our fingers. “No worries. I got the only two I need.”
“You are too much,” I gasped, as my legs moved quickly to keep up the pace.
He shot me a coy glance over his shoulder, and looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.
Lucas was a good six inches taller than me, and he was also so much bigger. Not that I was worried. I trusted him. Still, heading into the woods with someone I barely knew wasn’t something I would normally do. Then again, none of this was.
In the years I’d been around football, the only players I ever hung around were the married ones with kids. That was probably because those were the only ones my father wanted me around.
Before I’d gone to college, I was too young to be interested in any of them anyway. Once I went to college, I was only around for training camp, and everyone was busy then, including me. I always had some kind of odd job, unofficially, to keep me busy.
Being with Lucas now like I was, it was a first. Here, in this setting, with my father so close, anyway. In college I’d dated more than a few guys and even had a couple of boyfriends. None I ever brought home. None that made my heart flutter the way Lucas did. And none that had a body anything like Lucas’s.
They were boys.
He was a man.
The path he led me to wasn’t one I’d ever seen. It was south of the field and once we cleared the blinding lights of the stadium, he stopped.
Winded from our escape, I bent down with my hands on my knees and attempted to catch my breath. When I did, I heard the sound of rushing water. “Where are we?”
He pointed to where the noise was coming from. “Let me show you.”
At first I didn’t move.
“Come on,” he said, and then walked toward the sound.
I followed him through some trees and brush. A few times he pushed limbs out of the way, holding them for me to pass.
This did feel like a date, but I would never tell him that.
Soon we’d reached an outcrop of rock, big slabs of it poking from the clear water.
Lucas bent to untie the laces of his cleats.
“What are you doing?”
He pulled his shoes off. “Getting ready to walk through the stream.”
“The stream?” I asked.
“Yeah, it leads to the Kankakee River.”
Surprised I never knew it was here, I watched him as he pulled his socks off and tucked them inside his cleats. “How’d you find this place?”
“Stumbled across it when I went for a run the first night of camp. Take your shoes off and follow me. I want to show you something.”
Toeing off one of my Converse, I reached back to pull my sock off and found myself a little off balance.
Lucas lunged for me, but I landed on my ass, first.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Knowing this, he laughed, and offered me his hand. “Have you been drinking? Is that why you asked me out?”
I made a face at him, and batted his arm away, hopping to my feet myself. “I did not ask you out.”
He raised a brow that I easily saw with the gleam of light still spilling over from the stadium. “You sort of did.”
“Whatever,” I huffed and brushed the dirt from my rear before I began to remove my other sneaker and sock, more carefully this time.
With a shrug, he said, “Don’t you teach balance classes?”
“Balance classes?” I asked.
“Yoga, whatever.”
I snickered. “I do teach Yoga. How’d you know that?”
He looked a little sheepish. “Your father’s secretary stopped in his office during one of our quarterback meetings, and asked him about it. She was preparing his schedule, and wanted to know if he would be participating in your class.”
My mouth opened wide. “My father in yoga class?”
Lucas snorted and took a step in the water. “Yeah, right? Don’t worry, he said no.”
“Thank God,” I blew out.
“Yeah, Old Jack in a downward dog might be a little disturbing.” He said this while he took his first step in the stream.
The stream appeared narrow and not very deep. “How about you? Can you do that yoga move?”
He waved me toward him. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
Something that felt like anticipation rushed through my veins as my toes sank into the warm water and I headed in his direction. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“Keep your pants on. It’s right up here.”
How could I not laugh? This was so far from a date. I mean he was talking to me like I was a dude. Through my snicker, I followed close, and I knew we were there before he said anything. Up above was a rickety wooden bridge that spanned the widest part of the stream. It looked like an old relic someone had forgotten about long ago.
Lucas stopped walking and held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll help you up the rocks. You can practically see the entire campus from up there.”
Light shone from the road somewhere ahead, and I used the glow to step carefully up the rocks until I could reach his outstretched hand. A spark of electricity jolted through my body when our fingers touched, and it gave me a moment of pause. When I glanced down, I spotted something shiny and bent to pick it up.
“What’s that?” Lucas asked, leaning down from his place above me.
“I’m not sure. I’ll check when we get to the bridge.”
With a shrug, he turned back and led me up the side of the quarry and then across the rickety old bridge. There was a green rope for a railing and he was careful with his steps until we reached the very center, where he plopped down and let his legs dangle over it.
I did the same.
“See, look over there.” He pointed to the campus, where the stadium lights continued to cast a glow over the field.
“Wow,” I told him, mesmerized by the picture of rolling hills and old buildings that made the campus appear to be a magical place. “It looks so tranquil.”
“Yeah,” he said, his gaze on me and not where he had just pointed.
The bridge creaked, and when I went to hold onto the rope, I remembered the rock in my palm and opened it. The shiny piece of broken gravel had worn into a shape that looked very similar to a football. I traced the outline and held my palm out. “Look, it’s a football.”
He took it, and I thought he was careful not to touch my skin when he did. Then he held the rock up, examining it like it might have been a diamond. “Cool,” he finally said, and I could tell he meant it.
When he went to hand it back to me, I pushed it back toward him. “You keep it. It’s good luck.”
There was a surprised look on his face. “I can’t. You found it.”
“And I’m giving it to you.”
We stared at each other like we were each that magical place we had been looking at moments ago.
The bridge creaked in the wind again, and when I held onto the rope, so did he. I thought about holding on to him instead, but I didn’t.
“Tell me something about you that I don’t know?” I asked, glancing back toward the campus because all I really wanted to do was kiss him.
Somehow the movement of the bridge had shifted us closer together, and our outer thighs were touching. Lucas glanced down, noticing, but not moving away. “You first.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I love football.”
He smiled at me. “You don’t say.”
I ducked my head for a moment, but then looked back. “No, you don’t understand. I love everything about it from the beginning to the end of the season.”
His gaze traveled over my face.
I wasn’t finished. “During the off season I can’t wait for the new season to start. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas.”
His voice was soft. “Really? I would think being the coach’s kid, you’d like it when you didn’t have to be on the road.”
The shake of my head was more than slight. “Not at all. My father has always had this thing about us being normal. You know, sitting down for dinner at a normal time, going grocery shopping like normal people, even taking out the trash.”
Lucas laughed. “Like normal people.”
“I’m serious. The thing was I never liked normal. During the off-season he was around after school, and wanted to know why I wasn’t hanging out with my friends. I couldn’t tell him I didn’t have any. No one wanted to be friends with the new girl. And I was always the new girl.”
“Shit,” he said. “You moved around a lot, didn’t you?”
“We did, but here’s the thing, I never cared about the moving. I can remember being a little girl sitting in the box with whoever had been assigned to watch me, and just watching my father play. Even though he would be charged at, pounced on, and sometimes tackled, I could never look away. I loved it. What I hated was going to school and being away from it all.”
His head was down, but he swung his gaze my way. “I think everyone hated school when they were younger.”
I met his gaze. “No, I loved the work, hated the place. When I was fourteen I told my father I was quitting and that I would get my GED. He went out of his mind. In the end, we compromised on a full-time tutor. At the age of seventeen, I graduated high school and started applying to colleges. By then my father was coaching and moving around a lot, so I had no choice but to leave him.”
“How many places have you lived?”
“Too many to count,” I joked. “And you?”
“Only two. Just Chicago and South Bend.”
“But I bet you’ve at least traveled out of the country.” I said this almost enviously.
He shook his head. “Never.”
“Never?”
“Never. I haven’t really ever gone on vacation to be honest with you.”
This astonished me. “Me neither. Only where football took us.”
“Where do you want to go?” he asked, and this surprised me.
I looked up at the stars and said rather dreamily, “Paris. I really want to see the Eiffel Tower. I’m planning on going after I graduate in December.”
“Alone?”
I nodded. “During the off-season my father likes to nest.” This I said with a laugh.
His brows furrowed. “Nest?”
“Yes, you know, make his house feel like a real home. He’s always been that way.”
“Interesting,” Lucas snickered.
“He just bought a place in Lake Forest and is moving in after the season is over. He’s having it decorated right now. This time I don’t think he’ll ever move again.”
“That’s almost an hour from Chicago.”
“I now, but he has an apartment in the city for the days he doesn’t want to commute.”
“What about your mother? Where is she?”
There was this empty feeling I got whenever I talked about her. I never knew her, so I couldn’t say I loved her, yet I know I would have. “She died the day I was born.”
He looked down. “Shit. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
Our shoulders touched. “Most people don’t,” I whispered, and then I told him what happened. Something I rarely talked about with anyone.
“So is that what your father calls the day?” he asked, swinging his gaze back to mine.
“The day?”
“Yeah, you know, the reason he eats fish tacos?”
I gave him a blank look. Clueless. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen him eat fish tacos. Maybe you have the wrong person?”
“Yeah, probably,” he said, looking away.
It was time to shift the conversation to him. “What about you? Where in Chicago do you live?”
This clearly made him uncomfortable. “My brother and his wife have a house in Lincoln Park. I’ve been staying with them and their two kids, soon to be three, whenever I come back to Chicago.”
“Are you close with your brother?”
He nodded. “More than close. He practically raised me. My mother left us when I was a baby, and my father fell apart when she did. If it weren’t for Nick . . . well.” He shut up, and shrugged it off.
Noticing he didn’t want to say anymore about it, I let it go. “I’ve always wished I had a sibling,” I said, pushing my knee tighter against his.
His hand was squeezing the rope beside mine, and he slid it toward me. Now both our legs and hands were touching as we gazed over the campus. “Well, I owe my brother everything. It wasn’t until I was fifteen that he started to make money. Before that, we had nothing. If I needed a new pair of cleats, he ate macaroni and cheese for the month. If I wanted to go to football camp, he worked two shifts at the construction site. He gave up whatever he had to for me.”
I looked over at him. “Your brother sounds like a really special person.”
Lucas’s head turned in my direction. “He is.”
We both leaned closer, and I knew he was going to kiss me. And I knew I was going to let him. To feel his mouth on mine was something I wanted and I wasn’t going to turn away.
There was this look in his eyes, hot and consuming, and it made my insides feel like they were melting, all liquid, as if they were running hot and torrid.
Our lips were so close, not even a breath away. Just as each of us leaned in a little closer to make contact, the clock tower from the campus started to chime.
“Curfew!” I said in alarm.
Like lightning, he hopped to his feet, and when he did, the bridge rocked. I went to grab the rope for stability, but he took my hand. “I got you,” he said.
And he did. That only made me melt all over again. “We have to hurry.” He never let go of my hand no matter how much I protested. I didn’t have a curfew. He did. I could run fast, but he could run much faster. Still, he wouldn’t leave me behind. We reached the dorms with our shoes in our hands and only minutes to spare.
“You go.” I tried to push him toward the door.
He stood solid. “You first,” he insisted.
What I did next was impulsive. Stupid. I hadn’t thought it through. Instead, I just popped up on my toes and kissed him right on the mouth before taking off. “I had fun,” I called, looking back at him one last time before opening the door.
That wasn’t so smart. Then again nothing I had done tonight was. Was it?
I didn’t wait for him to answer. Besides, I didn’t think he would. Inside the dorm, I ran to the stairs and up them as fast as I could. I was thinking the entire time . . . tonight did kind of feel like a date.
My father would blow a gasket if he knew. Twenty-three or not, he wouldn’t like me hooking up with one of his players. Or any player for that matter. He had a thing about that. He always warned me to stay away from them. Told me he wanted me to marry someone normal, have a house, a yard, and two kids. Be normal. I always laughed and told him he was crazy. I had too much to accomplish in my life to let a man weigh me down. That always made him smile.
What I didn’t tell him, what he’d never understand was . . .
I didn’t want normal.