Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Chapter Nine
Tia
It's amazing how much you can fit into one giant suitcase and a carry-on if you really try. What isn't amazing is how long it takes for said suitcase to appear in baggage claim…or how many people you have to elbow aside to try to haul it off the conveyor belt before it inevitably disappears around the back for another rotation.
I reach it just in time to see it slip beyond my grasp.
"Dang it," I grumble, hoisting my carry-on a little higher on my shoulder and planting my feet, determined to stand my ground so I don't miss it again.
Except, right as it reaches the back of the belt, it's snatched off.
"Hey! That's—" I break off, blinking at the gorgeous giant hauling it off the belt like it weighs nothing.
Briggs.
My heart does a flip before racing away. It's startling how intensely you can miss someone you speak with multiple times a day, but here we are. I've never missed anyone or anything the way I've missed him since he left last week.
Unless it's the Playoffs, I don't usually even watch Kingston's games. But I watched both of Briggs' games, just so I could stare at him in the net every damn time the camera panned his way.
It's ridiculous how giddy he makes me feel without even trying. Every time we talk, I want to keep him on the phone, just so I can keep listening to his voice, so I can keep feeling close to him.
A week ago, I didn't even want to come to Chicago. For the last few days, I've been dying to get here already, just to see him again.
And now, he's standing in front of me.
Gulp.
I think he saw me before I saw him, because as soon as he has my bag under control, he turns toward me, his head tilting. His denim eyes lock with mine, his expression intense. He doesn't look at me like anyone else ever has. He looks at me like he's staring at pure magic, like he's awed and humbled at the same time, trying to figure out how to keep it all for himself.
I love knowing I'm the thing he looks at that way—that I'm the one he wants badly enough not to try to hide the greedy need or the heat in his eyes.
The young guy in a hoodie standing beside him recognizes him and does a double take, but Briggs doesn't even notice. His lips curve into a grin as he lifts a hand, crooking a finger at me.
I'm not even embarrassed by how quickly I rush toward him. Maybe I should be. Maybe I should try to play it cool and act like I haven't been dying to see him again…but I think he'd know that's bullshit. I think he knew I was falling for him before I figured it out myself.
I spent all day after he left, trying to tell myself that this isn't what this is, that it can't be that, that I'm just confusing lust for love. And every damn time, I arrived back at one simple fact: lust doesn't make you see yourself more clearly than you have in years. Love does that. Lust doesn't make you want to be a better version of yourself than you have been in years. Love does that. And lust doesn't heal the pieces of you that you thought would always be a little raw and humiliated. Love does that.
I'm falling for him. Somehow, inexplicably, he burrowed his way into my heart. He's only burrowed deeper in the days since I had that realization. Every time we talk, he gives me a new reason to fall, like when he told me that he's going to be the only first I remember because I deserve perfection. Or when he told me that his biggest regret is not being big or old enough to properly protect his sister back when she needed it most.
I guess I thought I was the only one with scars and trauma. Turns out, his run deep, too. Deeper than I expected. And somehow, despite everything he and his siblings have been through, he still believes in love. He still believes in it enough to fight for it.
Maybe that's why I'm here now, a little bit terrified, a little bit excited…but ready to fight, too.
"You looking for this, beautiful?" he asks, motioning toward my bag when I'm standing in front of him. "Because I'll give it to you, but it's going to cost you."
"What's your price?"
He crooks a finger again, smirking at me like the devil.
I step into him, so close, he's everywhere again, eclipsing everything and everyone around us. His head tilts toward mine, his breath warm against my lips.
"Kiss me," he breathes.
I lift on my toes, planting a light peck on his lips.