She tilts her head back, her gaze meeting mine. “Are you really sorry, Rhett? Or are you sorry I didn’t agree with you?”
Fucking really hate it when she calls me out like that. “I’m sorry for what I said, and how I made you feel. I don’t ever want you to think you’re a disappointment to me, or to anyone.” I take her hands and clutch them in mine. “I can’t help it if I’m a jealous dick.”
She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “You’re not a dick. You’ve never really been a dick. You’re too nice.”
“I’m not that nice.” I pull her into my arms, holding her close. Damn, she feels good. Smells good. I’ve missed her even though I saw her earlier this morning. “You’ve called me an asshole more than once.”
“I never really meant it.” She turns her head so her mouth is at my neck, her lips brushing my skin when she speaks. “You’re the nicest guy I know.”
Curling my fingers around the base of her ponytail, I give her hair a little tug. I don’t doubt for an instant that I’m the nicest guy she knows. She’s met up with some major losers. “I’m sorry.”
“You already apologized.”
“Just wanted to say it again.” I press a kiss to her forehead and she leans in closer, a tiny smile on her face.
“Hey Jen, do you need a ride from me or not?” Savannah asks.
Jensen pulls away from me to look at her friend. “I’m going home with Rhett.”
My heart soars, I swear to God. Sounds corny as hell, but it’s true. I hustle her into my car before she changes her mind, and we drive back to my house. We waste no time making our way to my bedroom, both of us shedding our clothes until we’re just in our underwear, Jensen’s teeth chattering when she dives under the covers. I climb into bed and haul her to me, my arms going around her waist, her head resting on my chest.
“How is it I always wind up in your bed?” she asks, her voice laced with amusement.
I run my fingers through the ends of her ponytail, my eyes closed, my thoughts drifting. This worked out way easier than I thought. I figured she’d put up a major fight, and even told myself I shouldn’t be disappointed if she didn’t come home with me.
Looks like I got what I wished for.
“I’m very persuasive when I want to be,” I murmur.
She lifts her head and I can feel her watching me, but my eyes remain closed. “Are you tired?” she asks.
“Yeah. I played that basketball game earlier.”
“Oh, right. Did your team win?”
“We did, but it was a scrimmage, so it doesn’t count toward our season. That starts next week.”
“I’m sure you’ll be very busy.”
“You should come to one of my games. They’re fun.”
“I don’t want to go alone.”
“Bring Savannah.”
“I’d love to watch you play,” she admits.
I smile. “I’d love to have you there. You’d need to make me a sign, though.”
“A sign?”
“Yeah, something with my last name on it or my number—which is twenty-one, by the way—that’s how you can show your support.” I sound like I’m joking, but I’m actually serious.
“My being there isn’t enough?”
I crack open my eyes to find her looking totally perplexed. Like she can’t imagine making a sign for me. “Your being there would be more than enough.”
She rests her head back on my chest with a sigh. “Good. I’m artistically challenged, so my sign would look like total crap.”