Page 43 of Taking Sides

As soon as I hit Send, I rethink the fire emoji and seriously consider editing it, but then he’ll see I did and know I’m overthinking like it’s my job. I turn off the TV and toss my phone onto the coffee table. Fifteen minutes later, as I’m reheating Chipotle from lunch, my phone pings. I rush to the living room to grab my phone.

Conrad

Thanks.

The disappointment at his one-word reply is quickly replaced with excitement when another text pops up below the first.

Conrad

Still out with your friend?

I forgot I told him I had plans tonight.

Me

No, I’m home. Are you going out to celebrate?

Conrad

I think the guys are planning on it, yeah.

Me

You deserve it. You played a really great game.

Great game is sort of an understatement. He scored two goals and had an assist, which puts him at the top of the points for defenders across the league. And he didn’t get into any fights with my brother tonight (probably only because they weren’t playing Houston), so that’s a bonus for me.

The timer for my food beeps and I start back for the kitchen. The ping from my phone stops me.

Conrad

What if I wanted to celebrate with you instead?

My pulse is already racing when headlights shine into the front window.

Conrad

I’m here

I tug at the hem of my shirt and smooth a hand over my hair as I walk to the door. My heart is beating so loudly that I barely hear the light knock. I take one last steadying breath before I pull open the door. All those nerves fall away as soon as I see him. He looks even better than I remember.

“Hey.” The word comes out a little winded like I ran a mile to the door.

He smiles at me, looking as tentative as he does handsome. “Hey.”

I step forward and grab a fistful of his shirt, which seems to be all the encouragement Conrad needs. His mouth drops to mine and then we’re kissing and he’s walking me backward into the house.

“How was your day?” he asks, barely moving his lips long enough to speak.

“Great. Yours?”

His answer is a nod and then his tongue sweeps into my mouth. I pull him to the couch instead of my bedroom because it’s closer. He sits and tugs me onto his lap. His hands are already under my shirt, and he’s hard beneath me.

For a guy who had never had sex until last week, he’s a fast learner.

He pulls back, face flushed.

“What is it?” I prompt him, reading his hesitation and hoping to ease it.