“Hey, stop acting like that’s not possibly true. You’re not what that asshole said you were. He does not get to define you. Okay?”
I didn’t miss the way her eyes teared up at my words, and she inhaled a stiff breath to keep those tears at bay, shoving her head back into my chest. “Stupid football players. I hate them. All of them. Never, ever again.”
My throat ached against my next attempted swallow. How the hell am I going to break it to her now?
“I’m so sorry I said something that triggered that asshole’s words in your memory,” I whispered, rubbing her back and pushing what would be future Makoa’s problems out of my head for now. “I meant what I said. I do have a good time with you, but I promise you, it has nothing to do with the sex.”
She peered up at me then.
“Okay,” I conceded. “You are a goddess in bed. Or rather, in the kitchen,” I added with a smirk. “But that’s just an added bonus.”
Belle chuckled, and finally, she relaxed into me, her hands wrapping around my waist as she laid her head on my chest.
“I have a good time with you, too,” she said softly, and I felt her swallow against my sternum. “And if I’m being honest, it petrifies me.”
“Why?”
She laughed a little, pulling back so she could look me in the eyes. “I accepted the role Nathan gave me a long time ago, Makoa. And ever since then, I’ve had a three-date rule.”
I cocked a brow.
“Not the same was what I imagine your three-date rule is,” she clarified. “With mine, I don’t see a guy past the third date. That way, I never risk getting caught up again. I never have to worry about falling for someone and thinking he’s the one, only to be told I was never even in the running for his heart.”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head and vowing to find this Nathan motherfucker and break his teeth.
“So, was this you adhering to your rule?” I asked.
When I opened my eyes, she was staring right through me. “It was me trying to.”
The fear in her eyes killed me, because I knew it like it was my own soul. And I also knew, right then and there, that I had a new plan.
Make her fall in love with me.
Make her fall in love with me and then tell her about football. Because if I told her now, I’d lose her before I ever had the chance to have her at all.
But if we stayed on this course, if I got her to open up to me, to let me in, to lean into the possibility of what we could be together the way I was right now?
That would be it.
She wouldn’t give a damn that I was a football player, not after I proved her wrong. Not after I put this shit rocket Nathan to shame.
Worst-case scenario, if I did lose her in the end… at least I could say I tried. At least I could say I gave it everything I could. It would kill me to lose her, that much I knew after just a week without her.
But she was worth that risk.
I thumbed her chin, letting out a long breath before I said, “Hey, have I given you a reason not to trust me?”
She shook her head, and I ignored the pit in my stomach that reminded me I was lying to her. But that was a mountain I could climb another time. A mountain I would climb, when the time was right.
Right now, I needed her to see that she could trust me. And even if I wasn’t being honest about football, there wasn’t a lie near my lips when it came to what I was feeling for her.
“Let’s make a deal. Okay?”
“I’m listening.”
“You break your three-date rule for me. Give me a chance. Don’t judge who I am based on who you’ve dated in the past.”
“And what do I get out of this?”
I shrugged. “Maybe a few dates. Maybe a few months or years of happiness. Maybe a lifetime. No one ever knows,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “But there is one thing I know for sure.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want to find out. And whatever the risk is, you’re worth it.”
Belle smiled, blowing out a breath as she laced her arms around my neck. “You’re so cheesy sometimes that I swear you walked right out of a rom-com.”
“I watched enough as a kid that I might as well have.”
She laughed. “Ah, that’s right. Four sisters.”
“Name any rom-com from the 90s or 2000s and I bet you a hundred dollars I can quote at least ten lines.”
Belle smiled again, but the smile leveled out when she pressed up onto her toes. Her lips found mine, steady and sure, warm and relieved as she melted into the kiss.
“So, we’re going to jump?” she asked, pressing her forehead to mine.
I nodded, brushing a fallen strand of hair behind her ears. “I think we’re already in the free fall, Ms. Monroe.”
Her eyes found mine.
“I really hope this parachute works.”
And I kissed her again, with my own heart wishing the same.
Belle
When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with my bedroom.
While my friends all wanted to ride their bikes or play with dolls, I saved up every penny I made from doing chores to buy a new comforter for my bed, or a throw pillow for my floor, or a swing chair, or curtains, or a frame for a photograph I begged my mom to have printed for me.
We moved around so much until I hit high school that every new room was a new adventure, and I would run into our new house wherever we were moving and stand in the middle of the room before the movers brought in any of our belongings. I’d close my eyes, soak up the energy of the room,
