Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
“Trust me,” I said, glancing toward the bathroom door, “it feels even more surreal than that…”
TRACK 31. SO HIGH SCHOOL (2:12)
TAYLOR
In the morning, I opened my eyes to find Audrey fast asleep on my chest.
She was so fucking beautiful—hair a tangled halo, lips parted slightly, one hand resting over my heartbeat like she’d claimed it overnight.
I thought of all the time we’d wasted in high school. How those two miserable semesters could’ve led somewhere entirely different if we hadn’t been so damn stubborn.
Smiling, I adjusted her a little so her arm wasn’t cutting off my circulation. Her lashes fluttered, and a sleepy noise slipped out of her throat.
“What are you doing?” she croaked, voice gravelly from sleep.
“Making you more comfortable.”
“I was comfortable.”
“Okay, then I’m making myself more comfortable,” I said, grinning. “You were crushing my chest.”
She rolled to my side, curling into the pillow. “Better?”
“Much.”
For a moment, I just looked at her—the sunlight hitting her skin, the faint marks I’d left along her neck, the tiny smile she didn’t even realize she had.
“My teammate was interested in you,” I said finally, half-teasing. “He told me to let you know you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.”
Her brow arched. “Is there a reason you waited until now to give me the message?”
“I thought the same thing he did.” I smiled. “Tell me about one of your former boyfriends.”
She blushed, cheeks pink against the white pillowcase. “They were all the same.”
“Well, tell me about them as a collection.”
“They don’t exist,” she said softly, sighing. “If we last long enough, you’d be my first one.”
“What?” I sat up. “What about that Craig guy who sent you flowers?”
“You were right,” she said. “I mean, we were together, but I was waiting for him to fully commit before… full-blown sex. We’d done stuff, but—”
“You don’t have to finish that,” I said, laughing under my breath.
Her eyes met mine—steady, unflinching—and something in the air between us changed.
She slid her hand beneath the blanket, brushing against my hip, her touch slow and deliberate. I looked down at her, daring her to keep going.
When her fingers slipped into my briefs, my breath hitched.
“Careful,” I murmured. “You start that, you’d better be ready to finish it.”
Her lips curved in a small, wicked smile. “Then don’t stop me.”
She took her time unzipping my pants, pushing the fabric down just enough before lowering her head into my lap.
The first touch of her mouth drew a sound out of me I couldn’t hold back.
She moved with quiet confidence—slow, deliberate, pulling me to the edge and back again, until my entire body was coiled tight with need.
I brushed her hair off her face, fingers trembling, and met her eyes as she looked up at me. The sight alone nearly undid me.
Before I could lose control, I cupped her chin and eased her upward, guiding her onto my lap. Her legs straddled mine, skin against skin.
“You’re fucking incredible,” I whispered, kissing her hard—half-thanks, half-desperation.
TRACK 32. DOWN BAD (5:11)
AUDREY
Days later, I stopped outside The Plaza, peering through the glass in hopes of spotting the new Bears banner that was supposed to feature Taylor.
Instead, my heart caught somewhere between one beat and the next.
He was inside—talking to a woman. A tall, leggy blonde with a camera around her neck and a laugh that carried even through the glass. She wasn’t just some fan; she was one of them. The type who followed players from event to event, all bright smiles and soft promises.
She touched his arm when she laughed, leaning in close like they were sharing a secret. His smile—that smile—lit up the space between them, easy and familiar. She held up her phone for a selfie, but instead of just leaning in, he reached out and adjusted the strap of her camera, his fingers brushing the inside of her wrist like it was second nature. When she whispered something in his ear, he grinned wider, teeth and dimples, and she brushed invisible lint from his shoulder before walking away. He watched her go.
My stomach twisted.
I told myself I was fine. That it wasn’t jealousy—it was logic. This is who he is. This is what comes with him.
But the longer I stood there, the harder it was to breathe. My reflection in the glass looked ridiculous—wide eyes, trembling fingers clutching my coffee cup like I could squeeze away the ache. Because what did I honestly think was going to happen when the season started? That we’d keep our quiet bubble of late nights, whispered jokes, and stolen mornings? That he’d trade stadium lights for a girl who lived behind a stack of essays and half-finished coffee cups?
I pressed my hand to the cool glass, forcing a breath. You knew better, Audrey.
Still, the sight of him leaning in, smiling like that, burned.
By the time he came outside, my resolve was gone.