Hate You Still by Lyssa Lemire
EPILOGUE
EMMA
The roar of the crowd becomes an explosion as the ball sails into Knox’s hands and he runs it into the endzone to score the game-winning touchdown.
Clare jumps up from her seat, the little old lady’s voice booming with more passion and excitement than any of the beer-fueled college kids around us. “That’s my boy! You show ‘em, Knox!”
I clap my hands together laughing.
It’s the first home game of Senior year. It took Knox a couple more games last year to get back to his old form, but he got there. He put in the work, he adjusted his attitude, and by the end of last season he was not only as good as he ever was, but better.
And this year, though we’re only a few short games into the season, he’s been on a totally different level. Even I can notice it, and I’m no expert.
Knox stands in the endzone. Instead of engaging in a triumphant celebrating, his eyes find mine in the crowd. He places his hand to his lips and then angles the palm he kissed in my direction. I feel my cheeks glow warmer than the sun that beams down on the field on this bright, mid-September morning.
Clare nudges my side. “I bet he’s got plans for you tonight.”
I gasp and my cheeks burn even hotter. “Clare!”
She cackles. “Actually, probably more like this afternoon!”
“You’re so bad,” I shake my head, embarrassed. Luckily, I doubt anyone around us overhears her raunchy comments, as they’re all too busy celebrating the win.
We wait outside the locker rooms after the game. We can hear the sounds of jubilation reverberating throughout the stadium. All the sports commentators are saying that the Eagles are the odds-on favorites to win the college championship this year, and most are throwing Knox’s name around as a first-round draft choice come this Spring.
Knox saunters out of the locker room. He’s freshly showered, looking and smelling clean and fresh, dressed in a perfectly fitting pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt that should be a crime. The thin, tight fabric hugs his powerful, sculpted frame.
I recall Clare’s comments earlier and a chill of excitement and anticipation travels up and down my spine. I can’t wait to pull that tight white fabric off that huge, powerful torso.
“My two favorite girls,” he says, beaming from ear to ear with an air of unflappable confidence about him.
He grabs me and hoists me up in the air, lifting me as if I were no more than a feather. I yelp and giggle in his arms while he spins me around. He plants an assertive kiss on my lips before lowering me back to the ground.
He then bends over and drops a much different kind of kiss onto Clare’s cheek.
“I can’t believe we finally dragged you out to a game,” Knox says to Clare.
“I’ve been missing out!” she exclaims. “I’ll have to come more often.”
“I’d love that,” he says, smiling.
“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” Clare says. Knox protests, asking if she wants to join us for an after-game lunch, but she turns us down and returns to her car in the parking lot.
“How about that lunch, then?” I ask Knox.
“My lips want to feast on something right now, alright,” Knox says, before bending slightly toward me and rumbling into my ear in a lush, pantie-melting timbre, “But it isn’t food.”
My nipples stiffen and a warm ache spreads through my center. “Let’s go, then,” I say, coyly.
“I have something to tell you, first,” he whispers into my ear again.
“What?”
He places his hands on my hips and then stands up straight, looking lovingly down on me from his towering height. “I love you.”
A deep, happy smile is etched on my face. “I love you, too.”