Page 65 of Campus Heat

“Do you not attach meaning to everything?” I asked, sounding a lot more cocky than intended.

“I’m just very specific,” he mumbled. “I choose what holds meaning.”

I quirked a brow, and that made him pause. He probably just realized that he had talked himself into a trap that he couldn’t get out of. I reached out and wiped a faint streak of glitter from his knuckle, where he’d clearly brushed me earlier without noticing.

“You were very intense for someone who wasn’t playing,” I teased.

He cleared his throat and said, “I’m a big supporter of women’s athletics.”

This time I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “I bet you are.”

I stepped closer to him. Not close enough to draw attention, but just enough for our conversation to shift from public to private.

“You looked so happy,” he said quietly.

I gave him a weak smile. “I was really happy out there.”

“Even when you fell down?”

“Especially when I fell down. It was an experience, not a competition, and I went into it with that thought in mind.”

He studied me as if he were trying to figure out how that could be possible. That was when I realized he wasn’t confused about my joy. He was trying to understand and learn it. Without thinking, I grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him toward the shadows behind the bleachers. It was hidden, barely, but it would do.

“Elizabeth—”

I kissed him before he could finish. It was deliberate and maybe a little frantic, but his vulnerable side had a way of driving me absolutely insane. His hands immediately moved to my waist. His fingers pressed in against the warm skin just above the waistband of my shorts. The world behind us faded into distant music and cheers. But then I pulled back slightly, and his forehead hovered near mine.

“You’re pushing your luck,” he murmured, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes.

“You like that about me.”

He bit his lip and groaned. “Maybe more than I should.”

I searched his face carefully, trying to see how he’d take the information I wanted to share with him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kinda like how this is just our thing,” I admitted, running my fingers over the stubble on his jaw.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or not.

“The sneaking, not having to explain ourselves or our actions, the way you look at me when no one else is paying attention. It’s so simple and uncomplicated,” I said, praying he wouldn’t take it as it was meant.

His grip tightened. “Do you really think I only look at you when no one else is paying attention?”

I felt heat rising up my neck. I knew exactly when he was watching me because his eyes burned a hole right through to my soul. And yet I didn’t know if he meant that as a good or bad thing.

“I think that for some reason you’re very careful about who finds out about what’s going on between us.”

He didn’t deny it, and even though I couldn’t explain it, that actually hurt. Was he ashamed of what we shared? Or was there another reason for him to keep this secret?

Students began to drift toward the stadium, and lights flickered on in the distance as the sun began to set. The atmosphere shifted from celebratory to anticipatory, and I instantly knew we didn’t have much time left. Ethan looked at the stadium and then back at me.

“Will you come with me tonight?” he asked shyly.

“I was already planning to.”

He shook his head slightly. “Not like that. I don’t want us to be at the same place but admiring each other from a distance.”

I raised my brow at the blatant contradiction he had just created.