Impulsively, I shrug mine off. It’s my letterman jacket, which I hardly ever wear. We’re supposed to have them on for game days, though, so I grabbed it from my locker after I showered. It’s not that warm, but better than nothing.

Without saying a word, I drape it over her shoulders. She looks over at me, then sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. It’s the worst possible thing she could do because I can’t think about anything except seeing her do that same thing when I was buried inside her.

“Thanks.”

I nod as we continue walking.

“You’re acting weird.”

An involuntary smile tugs at my lips as she parrots the words I told her last week on my front porch. “I’m just…we’re playing a rival tomorrow.”

“I know. Covington, right?”

I glance at her, surprised. “How did you know?”

She shrugs, tugging my jacket closer around her. It looks good on her. Really good. I look down at the sidewalk, trying to think about something else.

“My dad follows the team pretty closely,” Cassia says after a beat of silence. “It’s sort of our thing, if I’m up before he leaves for work. Sometimes I feel guilty for not playing in high school. I guess it’s my way of making up for it.”

I hesitate before speaking. For one, I’m processing the fact that Cassia and her father follow my team. That it’s their thing. Also, the last time the topic of her not playing high school ball came up, it wasn’t exactly a relaxed conversation. I’m treading carefully.

“I’m sure your dad wouldn’t want you to feel guilty,” I finally say. “If you didn’t want to play, you didn’t want to play.”

“I started playing because of you,” she states. “So…in high school…there didn’t seem like much of a point anymore.”

I steal a glance at her. Cassia is staring straight ahead, obviously not interested in discussing the topic any further.

“You’re not in a big rush to get back, right?” she asks.

“Uh…” I’m not sure how to answer. I was in a hurry to leave Fellini’s. Now that it’s just the two of us, I have no sense of urgency, honestly.

“I kind of want a waffle.”

“You and Baker didn’t split a dessert?” I huff a breath as soon as the question is out, thoroughly annoyed with myself for bringing him up.

“I voted no on dessert. I was sick of third-wheeling.”

“It looked more like a double date.”

Her eyebrows pull together as she stares at me. “I went to Fellini’s with Sydney and Graham right after school. There weren’t any open tables. Harrison was already there with some of his teammates and invited us to sit with them. They left before us and he stayed.”