For Lucy

Her lips parted for a second before she swallowed. “You’re using my generosity as an opportunity to pick up women?”

I shrugged, forcing my gaze to the field, basically anywhere but directed toward Tatum. Just me … playing it cool. Playing hard to get.

“Well,” she scoffed. “Looks like I know who not to ask the next time I get tickets.”

“So … let me get this straight. You invited me, but not as your date. Yet I’m not allowed to look around?”

“You’re supposed to be watching the game.”

“The game hasn’t started.”

“But…” she extended her arm out, gesturing to the field “…the players are warming up, and that’s part of the experience of being here!”

She liked me. A lot. Of course she was too stubborn to admit it. And I bore part of the blame. Her ego refused to let her completely ignore the lie, the stolen date.

We watched the game. Cheered and yelled until we had hoarse voices. I bought us hot chocolate, popcorn, and nachos. She bought us foam fingers. Every time the Chiefs scored, she jumped up and down before throwing herself into my arms for a celebratory hug that left me with a full-on erection by the end of the game. The day ended with an adrenaline high as we spilled out into the parking lot with the rest of the spectators. It wasn’t until I hit the point of veering off into the lot where my truck was parked that I focused on the fact that Tatum had my arm hugged to her chest to keep us from getting separated in the crowd.

“I’m parked this way.” I nodded to my lot.

“I’m this way.” Tatum nodded in the opposite direction as she slowly released her hold on my arm.

“Well, thanks for the ticket. I had a blast.”

Her smile deflated a bit. “Yeah. Sure. You’re welcome.”

I didn’t want to play hard to get. I wanted to ask her to a bar or that same cafe again because I liked being with her. And I was perfectly fine with it being easy. Life was hard enough. Why couldn’t something so nostalgic as love and attraction be easy? Did it have to be a game with winners and losers?

“I should walk you to your car.”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t be ridiculous. It will take you forever to get back to your truck. Totally unnecessary. Oof!” Her body landed against my chest as a group of drunk fans rammed into her.

I hugged her to me and pivoted to put myself between her and the slow-moving group. “You okay?” I peered down at her as she gazed up at me, her arms wrapped around my waist.

Just as I thought about kissing her—as I had already done a gazillion times that day—we were shoved again.

“Sorry, but I have to insist on being ridiculous and walking you to your car.”

Tatum didn’t argue. In fact, she grinned and nodded several times. When we made it to her Corolla, she pulled off her mittens to unlock her door. “Brr … It’s so cold.” She opened the door and turned toward me.

And …

I kissed her.

It was inevitable. It was the opposite of playing hard to get.

It was perfect.

I didn’t really plan it, but once my lips pressed to hers, I knew I would have to make it quick before I lost all sense of control—all sense of pride. But when I went to release her mouth, her hands slid around my neck, pulling me back to her.

Play it cool!

When a woman you are attracted to so very, very much flicks her hot tongue against your lips, asking for permission to taste the inside of your greedy mouth, it’s nearly impossible to deny her.

Nearly.

Unless you’re an idiot like me who wanted said woman so much you were afraid of looking too desperate and easy and therefore somehow less manly. So I manned up and denied her, pulling us apart.

“Drive home safely.”

Bonehead of the Year Award.

I was twenty-two. TWENTY-TWO!

Twenty-two-year-olds didn’t say, “Drive home safely.” We said, “Your place or mine?” We recklessly drove to a secluded spot, fondling each other the whole way, before screwing like rabbits with our clothes half on half off. I had my whole life ahead of me to be chivalrous and old as fuck saying things like, “Drive home safely.”

At twenty-two, a condom should have been the extent of my precautionary concerns.

Tatum rubbed her lips together.

I was so close to saying “just kidding” and tossing her in the backseat to be reckless and twenty-two with her right there in the parking lot. But … I choked.

I choked by holding to my sage advice for her to drive home safely.

“I wouldn’t completely be opposed to getting a drink,” she said, batting her eyelashes at me, the paint on her face smeared from my hands holding her face to kiss her.