Page 189 of Chasing Headlines
“Exhibition game.” I groused at him.
“Counts on our record.”
Yes, and you were amazing. But you shouldn't have risked yourself like that.I grabbed the ball from his hand. “I thought we agreed neither of us were good at pretenses.”
“You could just fall in love with me, then.” He leaned closer. “Problem solved.”
“You first.” I huffed and moved away, pain seared through my chest—stomping out the warmth that had been so alive a moment before. He caught my arm.
“We’re going to be like this even about—” he shook his head. “This?”
“You don’t even like me.”
“Not entirely true. The reporter does annoy the ever loving fuck outta me, sometimes. But there’s other times when this hot girl who loves baseball shows up. I guess she's kinda grown on me.”
Oh no no no.“A true romantic declaration right there.” I pulled against his grip, but he held tight.
“As real as I know how to be, and I’m still a bit mixed up sometimes—and dizzy. I’m not good boyfriend material right now. I’m still fucked up. I don’t want to stay here long term, either. Which I may not have a choice about, despite scoring that run the other night.”
I nodded, but didn’t trust myself to speak.
“But finally, things seem to be getting better for the first time in a while. I think it's because of you.” He tried to tip my chin up, but I turned away. “Look at me, Livvie. Please?”
My whole body caught on fire. This was unfair.Don't ask me to look at you. I can't. I can't because I'm already falling in love with you. And you'll see it, I'm sure it's so obvious . . .
“Livvie?”
I'm mad at you. Mad. For doing this to me.I glared up at him.
One side of his mouth curved and that dangerous look burned in his eyes. “You’re a hot, baseball loving pain in my ass. And I wouldn't have it any other way.” He tucked hair behind my ear. Oh God, I probably looked like a rumpled mess.
“I wouldn't haveyoube any other way.”
My heart caught in my throat. It pounded and ached. I was inches away from throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my entire body into his. “You're not serious.”
“I am,” he said with a groan. “My head also seriously fucking hurts.” He brought his hand up to his head and took a staggering step toward his room. I moved to his side, helping him to sit on the edge of his bed. My heart raced and I glanced around for my phone. Should I call the ER? Was he ok?
I knelt in front of him, trying to get him to look at me. “Breslin?” He leaned forward, resting his head on my shoulder. My heart caught some invisible strings holding my insides together and pulled them all into a knot. I brought my arm up to hold him.
He stayed that way for a long moment. I couldn't move, I was afraid . . . of hurting him.
He took a seething breath. And finally lifted up, his whole face clenched in pain.
“Hey. Come on. You need to take your meds.” I fumbled for the bottle of painkillers on his nightstand.
“It makes me tired,” he rasped and poured himself into his mattress.
“But you can’t do this to yourself. It’s OK to rest. To be human. To need help.” I righted him and handed him painkiller and water. He didn’t fight me.
He buried his face in my neck, again, and I held him. Ran my fingers through his hair. Shushed in his ear the way Curt comforted me as a child.
“Livvie?”
My heart held its breath. There was something in his voice. “Yeah?”
“We could try?” He lifted his head and those dark blue eyes—they weren't hazy, but focused and clear. The corner of his mouth quirked up into an expression filled with warmth and promises.
His lips on mine felt soft and juicy-thick. Thousands of warm, shimmering tingles surged through my system. It wasn't like his other kisses, no rushing or crashing. This one was deep and slow and all consuming. And melted me from the inside out.