“What do you fancy watching?” Jesse asks, leading me to his giant-ass living room with a giant sectional that would look exceptional to cuddle in, and well, do other things, too, things that I’m not thinking about at all.

I’m having a hard time talking, saying anything of value. Me, Maddie Chase, having a hard time finding something to say. I shake my head as an answer and let him tug me towards the couch, then he lets go of my hand before taking a seat, offering me the whole expanse of that giant sectional so I can sprawl out. Oh, man, oh man.

I take the opposite corner to him, knowing what kind of signal this is sending, and then move closer to the middle, but leave enough space between us that I can run. You know, if I need to.

Jesse doesn’t say anything or bring any attention to the volume of my heartbeat that’s probably being heard across the universe right now for aliens to come and fix what we’ve done wrong on this planet. He just fiddles around with the remote and pulls up Netflix.

“We’re actually going to watch the movie, right?” Oh, there my voice is. Thought I lost it.

Look at me, saying something.

Jesse looks over at me, dark eyebrows raised high on his forehead, and his surprise actually looks genuine. And then he starts to blush and something in my belly loosens, and I don’t feel like running away or throwing up anymore.

Who knew Jesse Windmeier would make me want to run away from every little feeling he’s making me feel? Is this normal?

It doesn’t feel like it’s normal, feels like I’m about to lose my head.

“Oh, of course. I wasn’t, I didn’t—” he stammers, and sits more upright, like his slouching is giving off the wrong kind of impression, instead of making himself comfy.

I end up snickering and shoving at his arm, because he’s kind of adorable, being flustered in front of me, something he never shows on the pitch with thousands of screaming fans and a world’s worth of pressure pressing down on his shoulders. Somehow, I’ve made him flustered and it makes me calm down enough that I can tease him and be honest with him.

I’ve scaled the walls past Jesse Windmeier’s defenses only to find out that he’s adorable.

“You just told me you liked me the other day, Jesse. You have to let me warm up to the idea,” I say, and watch his face fall. Great. Now I’ve stepped in it. Good job, Maddie. “I’m not going to jump into bed with you; I’m sure there are tons of girls who would love to do that. If that’s what you want, I can’t give you that right now.”

“I honestly just wanted you to relax, and I’ve noticed how many movies you have at your place, so I’ve got a few in my queue that I thought we could watch. That’s it, just movies. I promise.”

He looks so incredibly flustered and shy that he can’t even look at me. The Golden Boy of English football can’t look at me.

Well, shit. I’m more amazing than any superhero ever created. Hell, I want to hold onto this feeling forever and see how it compares to me scoring my first goal in the league.

“Jesse, I need to take this slow, okay? Like glacial. I…I just don’t know how to be with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

I frown at him and wave both hands at him, encompassing his body, his aura, the whole persona of being Windy. “Yeah, you.”

“I just happen to be good at football, Maddie. Just like you.”

Well, shit, that shouldn’t feel so good, him lumping me in the same boat as him, like maybe I can become one of the great ones, that I can be remembered long after I’ve retired and tried out a different kind of life. I nod my head and continue, “Yeah, sure, but you’re great at it, and we train together sure, which you’ve told me time and again that you didn’t like doing—”

“I was lying—” he interjects, but I hold up a palm to stop him from going any further.

“I know all about your reputation, and I don’t want to be one of those girls you throw away after a one-time use, because I’m not signing up for that. It’s fine if you’ve done that before, but that’s where I stand.” My heart’s thudding in my chest, and my cheeks are on fire. Still, these words need to be said and the ground rules have to be written clearly so both parties know what’s going on. “And when all this is done between you and I, when you get me out of your system, I don’t want you to be a dick to me or to let your teammates know what’s been going on between us. That’s being the lowest of the low.”

Jesse’s eyes narrow, the colour going dark. “I don’t make it a habit to discuss my private life with my team, Maddie.” He says the words through clenched teeth, biting each one off for me to chew on.

I nod. “Fine, that’s good. I don’t want anyone to know about this…thing… between you and I.” I point back and forth in the space between us. “That way, whatever happens, happens and no one’s the wiser.” I frown at him, tilt my head. “What?”

Jesse shakes his head and nods. “Go on. You’re the one talking.”

I blink at him, he blinks at me. “I’m done talking. For now. Maybe. I’ll let you know.” Then I gesture my hand out like it’s a silver platter on which he is being served the most delicious meal, indicating that he can go ahead and talk, if he wants.

“I want you to know something about me, since you don’t seem to. I am a private person, I keep whatever is important to me hidden behind the scenes so it doesn’t get dragged out into the public. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me. I don’t like that you want to hide me, Maddie, please,” he says when I open my mouth to start spouting off. “I can only promise you that I want to see this through, what this is between us, that I’m willing to take a chance.”

“I don’t really know why you would want to do that,” I admit, ignoring the pain in my throat and the way my nose is starting to sting before the tears start falling. Gah. Do I have to be so emotional? Let’s be honest, I cried the first time I scored a goal, so this isn’t really a surprise.

“I’ll show you why I want to, every day, for as long as you’ll have me.”

His words pass through me and graft themselves onto my heart, and I know whatever happens, I will always remember this moment. Always. No matter what happens.

“Okay,” I whisper, and sniff hard enough that there’s no fooling him that I was seconds away from bursting into tears. “I just don’t know how to do this,” I tell him, admitting it all. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before, I don’t know how this is supposed to go. You’re going to have to be patient.”

I watch him for a time, mulling that over, his face impassive except for that odd curve to his lips, like he’s trying to stop himself from smiling.

“I promise. Now, what do you want to watch?”

We settle on The Mummy and sit on opposites sides of the couch where I’m most comfortable and find out that Jesse makes a whole bunch of sounds when he’s watching something he likes, like he’s having a conversation with the characters even though they can’t hear him and have no idea who he is. That, too, makes my heart beat hard and fast, and my cheeks get pink as I watch him when he’s looking at the screen when something interesting happens.

I’ve seen the movie about a hundred times, it’s one of my parents’ favourites and I watched it a lot growing up, so sharing it with him now, with none other than Jesse Windmeier, who somehow wants to hang out with me and maybe kiss me in the near future, is absolutely mind boggling.

I get really sleepy after the movie ends even though it’s only ten, and Jesse lets out a jaw-cracking yawn that has me tumbling right after.

“I’ll drive you home, if that’s all right.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, thinking about how tired he looks, about those circles under his eyes that haven’t seemed to have gone away just yet. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

Jesse pauses mid-yawn and looks over at me, a silent question stamped all over his features. “I don’t sleep well at night. It’s recent, so I’m not too worried about it.”

“Can’t turn off your brain, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“I can call a cab or an Uber,” I offer, looking for my training bag and phone, but Jesse isn’t having any of it.

“No, I’ll take you. I want to take you home, see you safe inside.”

“You know,” I say, not knowing if I’m going to tip the scales or not, but being honest never really killed anybody, “I didn’t expect any of this from you.”

“That I would want to drive you home?”

I shake my head. “That you would want to drive me home, yeah, but that you wouldn’t just toss me out on my ear.”

“Maddie,” he groans, tilting his head back and looking up at the tall ceilings. “Why are you doing this to me? I’m not like what you’ve read.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got two eyes, and I’ve seen you with other people, so I wasn’t expecting this. You being nice, you wanting to drive me home after we hung out and you didn’t pull anything. I didn’t expect you to be so sweet. I’m not used to that.”

“If you come closer, I would like to give you a hug,” he says, hands in his pockets as we walk to the mudroom where our sneakers are, and my forlorn bag is sitting right next to them.

I tilt my head at him. “No funny business?” I ask, thinking about him palming an ass cheek while we’re so close or trying to press his raging erection against me when I’m sure I’m going to bolt at the feel of it. Then maybe come back for a thorough examination on my own terms and conditions.

“I don’t know what that means. Come on, Maddie, I just want to hold you.”

I go slowly after getting my sneakers on, shuffling forward like he might snap and haul me closer, squeeze me tight like a human version of a bear trap before I can get away. Jesse doesn’t do any of that, though, just waits until I get close enough, right up in his personal space, until we’re almost hip to hip, and I’m standing so close I can see his pupils have dilated and are eating up some of the blue his irises. I notice those dark circles under his eyes, and the condition of his skin—totally not as perfect as it is in those endorsement photos—and the way he has a tiny scar over his left eyebrow, like a chunk of skin has been gouged out over his eye.

He’s real. he lifts his arms slowly, watching me, gauging my reaction to him as I stand still and let him pull me close so that we’re hugging, my arms limp at my sides as his body curves into mine, his chest against mine, and the way he smells starts to flood my nose. Like crisp grass after it’s been freshly cut, and some sort of cologne that tickles my nose and makes me want to stuff my nose in the crook of his neck and inhale.

“It’s all right if you hug me back,” he coaxes while I stand stiffly in his embrace.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You can always hug me when you want to, when you need to.”

“You can’t just throw out cards like that, what if I use them all the time and literally become the monkey on your back? You don’t know how I am, I could need constant affection, and I could be really clingy. Ever thought of that? Do you want to rescind that invitation, Windy?”

I can feel him laughing, his body vibrating with it, the rumble in his chest pressed up right against me, and it feels like I’m sharing in it too when I loop my arms around him and squeeze him tight. It only makes him squeeze me tighter and I swear, this is amazing, this could be even better than scoring a goal. Maybe. Almost. I’d have to see.

“You have to drive me home now, or else you’ll get back too late.”

“You’re not that far,” he reminds me, and even in that careful driving way of his, we get to my place in twenty minutes or so.

“Thanks for the food and the movie. I owe you one,” I say, grabbing my bag from the vicinity of my feet and starting to turn to the door to open it and bolt the hell out of here because I don’t know what I’ll do if he tries to kiss me. I might do something crazy like have sex in this car after I gave my whole spiel that I want to go slow. I need to go slow, but my body has other ideas.

I watched him the whole drive over, and every little thing that I never noticed before, the shape of his hands, his jawline, his face in profile, the way he looks when he’s sleepy, and the way his voice gets a little deeper when he says my name; it all adds up to a pile of pros that has me wanting him in ways that I’ve never really wanted anyone. And it’s scary, being twenty-one years old and having no idea what I’m doing.

In high school, it all looked so easy. Just decide you’re going out with a guy and that was it, decision made, and it lasted for a couple of weeks until you got on the merry-go-round again and tried it out with someone else.

Me? Football always came first and the merry-go-round was just a place I called Puke City.

“That’s not how this works.” He shakes his head at me, all coach now with the trainee—giving me lessons that I didn’t even know I needed. That’s how leadership is, you can’t force it down someone’s throat, you have to lay it out there and hope they listen, make them want to follow without pushing them into it. “Sweet dreams, Maddie.”

I nod at him, my cheeks burning again because I think Jesse’s going to feature prominently in my dreams tonight, and I seriously need some sleep and to not think about him. I need my brain to turn off tonight.

Please, brain?

I make no promises.

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will you be worried about me?” he asks, grinning at me.

I open the door and step out onto the pavement, looking back at him in the darkness of his car since the door light still isn’t on. “I’ll be beside myself until I get that text.” I smile at him, lift my chin, and wave frantically like I’m waving across a huge distance instead of a few feet. “Good night!” I call over my shoulder after I close the door and make my way upstairs.

Once I get inside my apartment, I make my way towards my bedroom and flick on the light. I leave the curtains open so I can look down now and see Jesse’s headlights start to disappear down my street.

He waited for me to get to my apartment to leave. Huh. Look at that.

I wasn’t expecting this, I wasn’t expecting him to be this way at all. What the hell am I going to do about it?

Because I can see myself eventually falling for him, if he keeps it up, if he keeps being sweet to me, if he keeps explaining himself the way he does, if he keeps trying to make me happy. But a relationship is just another name for a team of two, and I have to remember that his strengths counteract my weaknesses and vice versa. I don’t have to be the best on this team, but I have to contribute something, I have to earn my spot.

And I have no idea how to do that.

Yeah, I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight.

Twenty-six minutes later, Windy texts me that he got home all right and he’s headed to bed. He wishes me sweet dreams again, and if I were anything but human and a badass footballer in my own right, I would be a puddle on the floor.

I’m catching feelings and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Do you really want to do something about it?

Nah.