A nice body. The words are both the balm and the blade. On the one hand, I’m intelligent and rational enough to know I should be glad he thinks of my body in better terms than I do. Intellectually, I know nice is as good as it’s going to get for a girl like me. On the other hand, part of me wanted to believe I saw heat in his eyes earlier. As irrational as it is, I want to believe he might think I’m beautiful, even while I know I’d never believe it if he used those words.

Emotions are dumb.

He holds up another finger. “And two, I’m going to need you to tell me what you mean by shamefully inexperienced.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

My face is on fire. Why did I say that? I would be fine if no one ever knew the extent of my innocence, but Easton is the last person I want to admit it to. “Forget I said anything.”

He steps closer. “I’ll tell you my secret if you tell me yours.”

“You go first,” I blurt. Because who am I kidding? Anyone who had to guess would know I’ve never kissed anyone. It’s not like I’ve ever had a boyfriend.

His eyes soften and something like pain flashes over his features for a beat. “I wish the Demons hadn’t drafted me.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but that came out of left field. Easton’s dreamed of the NFL his whole life, and tonight we’re celebrating him being selected in the first freaking round of the draft. Now he’s telling me that achieving this lifelong dream is what has him down. “Why’d you enter the draft if you didn’t want to be picked up? Carter said you could’ve waited until next year and finished school.”

“I wanted to be drafted. I suck at school and I . . .” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “I wanted to be drafted, but I was hoping Chicago or Detroit would draft me. I’m scared to move so far from home. Which I realize is dumb, but . . .”

“It’s not dumb.” Easton had his pick of colleges, and he went to Starling College in Grand Rapids. They have a good football team, but he could have gone to Florida or LSU—teams whose football programs are practically NFL breeding grounds. I figured it was because he wanted to stay close to home, but it never occurred to me that those preferences would hold true three years later. Only, this time the choice is out of his hands. “You can visit, though, right? A contract that big means you can fly home as often as you want.”

His gaze locks on his feet. “Right. Of course. It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s really not.”