I shake my head. “Never mind.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a brief squeeze before hurrying to catch up with the other two.
Our bags are already loaded into the back of the Tesla, and I don’t miss the look one of the valets shoots Tyler, likely because he was also expecting us three hours ago, and it’s led to confusion for them as well.
Cooper walks around the car and gets into the seat behind Tyler, laughing at something Nessie said. I pull in a breath, reminding myself this leg is just shy of eight hours. I’ll finish my book, take a nap, start another book, and we’ll be there. Thank God for e-books.
The valet opens the passenger door for me, and I square my shoulders as I slide onto the soft leather of the front seat, working to ignore Tyler, who turns to look at me. “Asked Coop for a favor?” he teases.
“Are you ever humble?”
“What’s that?”
I fasten my seat belt, ignoring him as I open my book and hug myself as close to the door as possible.
Three hours into the drive, and I’m considering potential rules for the rest of this trip, starting with I get to sit in the back seat because right now, as Cooper and Nessie sleep in the back and I reread the same page for the fourth time because Tyler keeps looking at me, I’m debating walking to Austin.
“Why are you looking at me?” I ask, turning to face him.
“Are you ever humble?” he returns my earlier question.
I roll my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose to keep myself from yelling because although I’m known for having a lot of patience, Tyler manages to defy that fact and pushes me right to the brink of my sanity.
“I’m tired,” he says. “I need you to talk to me. Keep me awake.”
“Wake Cooper up.”
“He’s tired.”
I rub my fingers along my forehead. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Football?”
I frown. “Seriously?”
“Do you have something you’d rather talk about?”
There are a thousand things I’d rather talk about, and considering he was naked and licking my face last night and accusing me of wanting him the night before and then kissed another girl’s lipstick off, it seems there’s a much larger issue we should be talking about—or possibly several—but I scoff and shake my head. “No. By all means, let’s discuss football.”
“Brilliant. Do you like the game?”
“How do you even play football? You're British. Aren’t you supposed to play soccer or cricket or something?”
“I’m American.”
“And British, and you grew up there.”
“Did you Google me?”
I sigh deeply, my attention moving to the window in an attempt to find my patience that he just successfully destroyed. “You told us. Remember?”
He grins. “I was kidding.” He passes a slow-moving vehicle and then glances at me. “My uncle, on my mum’s side, lived with us for a while. He’s a big football fan. Taught me most of what I know.”
I glance across the space at him, the same tattoo I’d seen when he was kissing the woman winking at me from the inside of his bicep. It’s only the edge of the tattoo, tickling my memories of last night as I work to recall what is tattood on his skin.
“We moved to Miami when I was thirteen, and football was the quickest way to make friends. I joined a team, and I went from being the kid with the weird accent to the kid who could run really fast.”
“Yeah, right. Even our dad swooned at your accent.”
He looks at me briefly, and I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve seen him surprised, his lips slowly fighting a smile that he quickly loses to. He moves, rubbing his hand over his bicep and sliding the sleeve up, revealing the hard planes of muscles. “Swooned, did he? You think thirteen-year-olds swoon when they hear someone they can’t understand?”
It’s difficult for me to imagine anyone not swooning.
I don’t tell him this, though, no need to add more wind to his sails.
“So, my American side won out with football, but I prefer tea in the morning.”
“I only watch football because Cooper plays.”
“Not a fan?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. It just seems dangerous and slow and aggressive.”
He laughs, tipping his head back slightly as he rights his sleeve and moves his hand back to the steering wheel. “You sound like my mum. She hates it. She’d prefer I played chess or water polo.”
“Water polo is shockingly difficult. It might be the most underrated sport for difficulty.”
He laughs.
“I’m serious. We had to play once for PE, and it was intense. There are no fouls, and you can’t reach the bottom, and you’re supposed to swim while throwing a ball.” I shake my head. “Grossly underrated.”
“Besides your brief water polo career, did you play sports?”
“Very brief,” I point out. “I played soccer.”
He nods. “I can see that. But not in college?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“More time to study?”
I glance at him again. “Kids aren’t much nicer when someone passes out in the middle of a game.”
His blue eyes meet mine, his brow furled. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Good thing we have five hours, and I need you to keep talking.”
“I was born with a hole in my heart, and we didn’t know about it. Atrial septal defect.”
“Fucking hell,” he says, sympathy cutting his mouth into a frown that I itch to erase.
“It’s fine. Totally fine,” I tell him. “They fixed it. I just stopped playing because it was hard for others to forget that moment. I was no longer Chloe. I was Chloe, the girl who passed out and had to have emergency heart surgery. Everyone looked at me like I was about to keel over again and wouldn’t pass me the ball, and the coach wouldn’t make me run—”
“Sounds totally fine,” he says, his gaze dropping to my neckline, likely looking for a scar.
“I had a cardiac catheterization, so they were able to go in through a small incision on my leg.” I trace the tiny scar through my shorts. “But, seriously, it’s all better. They fixed it, and now I see a cardiologist every couple of years, and they tell me everything’s normal.” I rush to add the words, regretting having told him because though I’m technically better, the memory still makes me feel weak.
He looks at me again but doesn’t say anything.
“My vagina is also pierced.”
His eyes open wide with shock, and the car weaves.
“Kidding. Kidding. Completely kidding,” I say, shaking with laughter. “You were just way too serious, and I could tell you were starting to regret acting like a total asshat for the wrong reasons, so I needed to get your attention for a second.”
Tyler shakes his head. “But it’s a big deal. Does Vanessa have it also?”
“What, a clit ring?” I burst out laughing again, proud of myself for letting go and living in the moment.
Tyler still isn’t amused.