Second Chance: A Military Football Romance

“You’re strong,” I said, feeling the supple muscle in her forearm.

A few tendrils of her hair had worked their way loose from her ponytail. I brushed them back from her forehead. It hadn’t felt like either of us had moved, but it seemed that we were suddenly closer, barely any distance between our bodies. The air felt thick, charged. Our eyes met.

If I didn’t want this to go any further; I needed to stop this, now. Just pull my hand away, pull my gaze away, get back to working on figuring out what she was going to do for her sculpture. But I didn’t want to stop; in fact, I very much wanted to see where this would go. We’d come so close to kissing the other day but hadn’t—and I only realized after how foolish that had been. Who gave a flying fuck if I didn’t stick to my original plan? It wasn’t like I’d taken an oath or something.

So, I did it. I leaned in and kissed her, and when my mouth met hers, she made a little surprised sound, almost like a squeak, but then she was kissing me back. She kissed me back softly at first, almost questioningly, but then she got bolder, pressing her mouth firmly against my own. Damn, she felt good.

She had a sheepish smile on her face when we pulled away, her eyes half-closed.

“I never know what to say after,” she said.

I leaned back in and kissed her once. “You don’t to have to say anything,” I said. “You can just start doing this again.”

Her smile widened. “Okay,” she said.

Chapter Sixteen

Chloe

Kissing Graham had unleashed my creativity, it would seem. Because after that kiss, the ideas for what I could sculpt just seemed to pour from me. A mermaid, I decided, but there would also be something else, too. I wasn’t sure just what, but that no longer mattered. He was right; I just needed to get started with the idea that I had, and then the rest of it would fall into place. I didn’t want to get started on the sculpting part just yet, though, so I spent an entire night in my room, working on sketches. It was late when I finally got up from my desk and slipped into bed.

I had just closed my eyes when my phone started to buzz. I fumbled in the dark for it, knocking it off the bedside table and onto the floor. I picked it up and looked at the screen. My heart sped up when I saw who it was: Graham.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s me. Sorry to call so late. But I didn’t realize it was a full moon tonight. Are you busy?”

“No,” I said, smiling at the sound of his voice. “Just lying in bed, actually.”

“You feel up for going out?”

“Going out? Now? Um, sure. Where?”

“It’s a surprise. But wear your bathing suit. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“Um ...” I paused. Graham showing up here late at night probably wouldn’t go over so well with my parents. “Why don’t I meet you?”

“Sure. Meet me down at the shop, and we’ll take my truck.”

“Okay,” I said. “I can be there in 15 minutes.”

“Awesome. See you soon.”

I got up out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway and into the bathroom where my bathing suit was hanging on the towel rack. I could hear the TV on downstairs. As I slipped into my bathing suit, I debated whether or not to tell my parents that I was going out. They’d be immediately suspicious, and want to know who I was going with, and where we were going. I kind of didn’t blame them, seeing as it was already pretty late, yet on the other hand, I wasn’t a kid anymore and shouldn’t have a curfew. Except that my father would then say that regardless of how old I was, when I was living in their house, I had to abide by their rules.

I tiptoed back to my room. Obviously, not telling them would be the hassle-free way to go, unless of course my mother came upstairs to find my room empty.

I doubted she would, though. She’d probably had a couple glasses of wine at this point and would be heading to bed soon. She always made sure to get a good’s night sleep whenever she’d had a few drinks, to ensure that she didn’t look too bad off the next morning.

I grabbed my purse off the top of my dresser, made sure I had my phone, and then left, closing my bedroom door behind me. If my parents were both in the family room, toward the back of the house, I’d have no problem sneaking out the front.

I snuck down the stairs.

“Can I get you anything else before I come back in there?” my father called out. I heard the refrigerator door close.

“No, this is going to be my last glass and then I’m going to bed,” my mother replied.

I waited on the stairs until I heard him walk back to the family room.

I’d never snuck out of my parents’ house before, and even though I wasn’t technically a child, my heart was still racing as I silently made my way across the foyer to the front door. What would I do if my dad had realized he’d forgotten something in the kitchen and went back, then heard the front door opening and popped his head into the foyer and saw me there, leaving? I felt a tingle of anxiety shoot through me, but my hand was on the door knob and I pulled it open. The screen door would squeak if you pushed it too hard, so I gently pressed the handle, pulling the front door closed behind me.