“I’ve gotten used to it. But hearing it over and over again does get old.”

“I thought you hadn’t been home in a while?”

“I hadn’t, but it’s no different at school. My teammates, coaches, random people on campus? They all bring it up in some form. But next spring I’ll either get drafted or I won’t. The number of people who bring it up to me won’t change that.”

We’re both silent again.

“Max asked if we’re dating.” I blurt. I don’t look over at Jace, instead focusing on sliding the plates into place. “Actually, first he asked if I idolized you, and then he asked if I’m your girlfriend.”

Jace lets out a wry chuckle. “He didn’t bother with any small talk, huh?”

“We were pulling the green stuff off the corn,” I inform him. “So it was actually the perfect time for a serious discussion.”

“Sure it was.” Jace smiles. “So, what did you tell him?”

“That I have a shrine to you in my dorm room.”

He smirks. “I know that’s not true.”

“I told him the truth. That I don’t idolize you, but I admire you.”

Jace looks at me with surprise. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. That surprises you?”

“I haven’t exactly gotten the sense it’s admiration you’re experiencing when we’ve discussed football.”

“Who said I’m talking about football?” I counter. “But since you brought it up, I may know barely anything about the sport, but even I can tell you’re good. Really good. But you don’t just take it for granted, you work hard at it, too. You go for extra runs. You help out your teammates. That’s admirable.”

“My extra runs don’t have much to do with football these days,” Jace admits. He takes a step closer, effectively caging me against the countertop. “So…what do you admire about me, aside from football?” His voice is husky and his stare is intense.

I consider making a joke about his looks, but something in his earnest expression keeps me from doing so. I open my mouth to speak, still uncertain of what I should say. The list of things I admire about Jace Dawson is long—longer than I realized until he asked.

The prospect of admitting that to him is both exciting and terrifying.

“Okay, Claire finally—” Mrs. Dawson walks into the kitchen, and abruptly stops speaking when she sees Jace and I standing inches apart in the corner of the kitchen.

I startle at the unexpected interruption, not having heard her come downstairs.

“—Oh, sorry,” she finishes. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reply, suddenly grateful for the intrusion. “I was just telling Jace I’m headed to bed. Thank you for dinner tonight, Ellen. Everything was delicious.”

Mrs. Dawson smiles warmly. “I’m glad you liked it. Don’t forget we’re going shopping tomorrow morning for the wedding.”

“I won’t. I’m looking forward to it,” I promise her.

I risk a glance at Jace to find he’s studying me closely.

“Good night, Jace.” My words are heavy, bogged down by all the others I decided not to say.