Delicate Us

Chapter 7

Trace

Seeing Syler in the box supporting him sent a happiness spiking up Trace's spine that he hadn't felt in a long time. He hadn't asked her to be there... but she was. It wasn't until halftime in the locker room did he realize that she was probably there because of the contract. And by the end of the game, he didn't totally care if they had been the case. The more they were together, the more he thought he could sway her to like him in real life. Because that was what he wanted... wasn't it? His reputation didn't matter as much as she did. And the thought of a piece of paper potentially taking her away from him before knowing if her feelings were solidified sent a haze so thick over his head that it smelled of her lavender shampoo he had smelled when he tackled her.

Trace had scored the winning touchdown for the team. And in the celebration, he spotted Syler running out of the suite. It sent a wave of disappointment over his head. It was just the contract. The game was over and she bolted. Trace sighed and turned his attention back to the celebration.

Someone slapped his back and asked muttered, "Looks like your girl's upset you won."

Trace's eyes whipped to his teammate, Preston, who was pointing at the box. "Upset?"

"Sure looked that way, man."

Without another word, Trace left the celebratory mob and sprinted off the field, through the locker room where he tossed his helmet on a bench, and rushed to the hallway that connected to the suite on the other side of the stadium. Several stairs and a never-ending turn finally opened up to the sight of her posing for a photo from a stranger. Her lips were painted a bright red, her eyes were drawn into sharp points, but her smile seemed to soften all her features. Even her golden hair that fell over her shoulders in waves elevated her beauty, like a halo hovered above her head in an ever-lasting crown. She was smiling, and if he hadn't seen her genuine smile the day before, it would have fooled him into thinking she was happy. But this was a touch different. A sadness that didn't allow her mouth to curve up all the way.

She hugged her fan and Trace caught her by the arm gently before she turned to leave.

Her piercing blue eyes settled on him and a crease formed between her brows. "Trace?"

"Hey," he breathed out, enjoying the sound of his name on her lips.

"What are you doing all the way over here?"

He released her and scratched the back of his buzzed head. "Yeah, um, I wanted to..." He swallowed hard, not willing to ask her blankly if she had been upset and why. He just needed more time. How to get more time? "...invite you to the after party before you leave for the night. Would you like to go? Meet the team?" More sadness seemed to roll through her sky-blue eyes, and it stunned him. It caused the words to release themselves without warning. "Are you okay? You seem upset."

She grinned, blinking away the slightest glisten of tears. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. And no, that's okay. I don't want to make things more complicated by meeting everyone."

She had a point. And it wasn't until just then that he realize he didn't really want to share her that evening anyway. "Then let's duck out of here together. Just us. Let me get you dinner. As a thank you for showing up to the game for me." Trace stepped in closer with nerves boiling at the surface for just having asked her out. A real fear of rejection sat idle in anticipation for her response. When her lips parted ready with a decision and there was a subtle shake of her head, he reached out and tucked the shimmering blonde tresses out of her face and behind her ear to make room for his lips to whisper, "Fake boyfriends and girlfriends still have to date."

He could feel her body shudder, even though there was still space between them, and he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

"Um... Okay. Let's do dinner, fake boyfriend."