Page 48 of With the Assist

“Is she the one?”

He ignores them, getting me to his car in a few quick strides and ushering me inside with one hand at my back, blocking the cameras with his body. I slide into the seat, heart still racing and hands trembling despite my best efforts to still them.

The door shuts with a solid click.

Silence. Or at least, as close as possible with a crowd of people outside the car.

He rounds the hood, shoulders squared as he says something sharp to the nearest cameraman before getting into the driver’s seat, shutting them out.

For a moment, neither of us moves.

The world narrows to the inside of his car, the sound of my own breathing, and the warmth still lingering where his hand touched my waist.

Then he turns toward me.

“Hey,” Nathan says, voice softer now, careful.

13

Wesley

Can you please take me home now?” I ask, desperate to get away from the crowd lingering around the car.

Nathan’s hands are tight on the steering wheel.

I notice that first, before anything else. Not the speed, not the way the city blurs past the windows, but the tension in his grip. His knuckles are pale, and his jaw is set like he’s bracing for impact.

I stare out the passenger-side window, trying to process what the hell just happened.

“How are you doing?” He asks, breaking the silence.

I shrug, because I don’t know how I’m doing. “Fine.”

The word sounds small even to me.

He nods as if he believes me, but it looks more like he knows better and is letting it go for now. The city lights reflect off the windshield, streaking gold and white across his face. He looks different like this. An ordinary guy who looks like he might be regretting a dozen choices at once.

“We can reschedule.” His fingers tap on the wheel.

I realize then that he’s nervous. How many relationships of his have broken down under the type of scrutiny that just ambushed meoutside the stadium? Is that what he’s worried about? That I’ll call the whole thing off.

Lucky for him, I don’t scare easily. I also don’t back out of promises. We both need this to keep going. Cameras be damned.

“We’re going,” I clarify. “But I need to change.”

Another nod. A beat of silence.

Finally, I glance over at him. “Why were you at the stadium?”

His eyes flick to mine, then back to the road. “Our game ended an hour ago. I was going to try to warn you.”

I blink. “Did you win?”

He huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s what you want to ask me? If we won?”

“Yeah.” It’s a start at least.

“Yes, Wesley, we won.” The corner of his lip tilts up in a smirk.