Page 5 of The Pact
I finish with a flourish and hand the pen to her. “Sign it, Doc.”
She reads it over, and a soft laugh escapes her, a blush tinting her cheeks. “These are pretty specific. And you really don’t think either of us will find anyone better in eight years?”
“I’ve already had three years to look, and I’m sitting out here in the dark with you while a party is going on around us, with girls barely dressed, and all I see is you.”
She looks at me for a long beat, gaze softening into something vulnerable. She takes the pen, her hand steady as she signs her elegant signature—the one that will sign off on multimillion-dollar medical clearances—right next to my messy one.
“Okay, deal,” she whispers, setting the pen on the clipboard. “If the world hasn’t chewed us up and spit us out by thirty, I’ll marry you, Wyatt St. Clair.”
I take the paper, fold it, and shove it in my pocket. “Excellent. I’ll keep this in my safe, right next to my NFL contract.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re stuck with me.” I kiss her lips lightly. “Even if it’s just as a friend. For now.”
I set the clipboard near the foot of the lounger, then stand, holding my hands out to her. “Come on, Doc. Let’s go celebrate.”
“I think I’m just going to go back to my room.” She takes my hands and stands.
“No, you can’t. One drink.” I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her waist. “Then I’ll walk you back, and we’ll both go to our separate rooms, even though that’s a sucky option in my opinion.”
“One drink.” She pulls back, then reaches down to grab the clipboard.
“I’ll take it.” I reach for her hand, and she threads her fingers through mine as if it’s a natural thing.
We walk out of the darkness, the noise from the club hitting us like a wall. I head over to the bar and get us some drinks. She tucks her clipboard under her arm and takes the drink from my hand.
“Okay, Doc. Here’s to us. To our pact. And winning the national fucking championship, baby!”
Presley laughs and holds up her glass to clink against mine. “Cheers to us!”
Some of my teammates call out my name, but I ignore them. I’m not walking away from her until she’s safely in her room.
“You can go hang out with them. You should actually.” She tilts her head toward the guys.
“I’m exactly where I want to be.”
And that’s where I stay until our drinks are finished.
I don’t bother saying goodbye to anyone. I just take her hand in mine, and we walk to the hotel we’re staying at, which is next to the club.
When we reach her room, she turns and leans against the door. “Thanks for walking me back. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. Every minute with you matters to me.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she sets her clipboard against the door and then stands, inching closer to me until the toes of our shoes are touching.
Instinctively, my hands wrap around her waist, and her arms drape over my shoulders. Pulling her into me, I place a soft kiss on her lips. It’s more than a kiss. It’s a promise that I intend to keep. And as much as I want to go into that room with her and fuck her till the sun comes up, I’ll walk away because she and our friendship mean a lot to me, and I want her to know that this is … more.
“Night, Doc,” I say against her lips.
She exhales and rests her forehead against mine. “Night, Saint.”
We stand there for a minute, breathing each other in.
Eventually, she clears her throat and moves back. She bends to get her clipboard, opens her door, and walks into her room. She turns, the sexiest smile stretching across her face, and waves her fingers, then closes the door. The sound loud in the empty hallway.
I step back, then walk away. The folded paper in my pocket feels heavier than the championship ring I’ll be getting in a few months.
