"Do you like it?" she asked, sitting on the bed next to me.

 I looked around the room and adjusted us so my arm was around her waist.

 It's perfect.

 Perfectly me.

 "Holy shit, Amanda. This is awesome." I faced her.

 "Yeah?"

 "Uh huh. I love it."

 "I tried to make it like your pool house, you know?"

 I nodded.

  "So you really like it?" she waited expectantly for my answer.

 I faced her. "I love it, Amanda. Really."

 "Good." She smiled.

 I finally tore my eyes off hers and looked around the room. "So you're really good at this—the design stuff. You don't want to study that? Make that your career?"

 She looked down, "No. I mean, I love doing it. And I think I'm good at it. But it's just having a good eye. It doesn't take a miracle to do it. But—"

 "But babies," I interrupted her, "babies are miracles."

 Her jaw dropped, as her eyes widened.

 "You remember?" she breathed out.

 I took her hands in mine.

 "I remember everything about that night, Amanda. I told you. Everything."

 ***

 Two hours later and the house was finally quiet. I'd been lying in bed, wide-awake, waiting for the talking and giggling from her room to stop. Now, it was dead silent and I don't know which one I'd prefer. My fucking imagination was driving me crazy. All I could think about is if people could fuck in silence.

 I was about to get out of bed, just to focus on something else, when the bedroom door opened. She stood in the doorway, in her oversized jersey, looking unsure of herself. I couldn't help the grin that took over my face.

 She chose me.

 Amanda

 He smiled when he saw me. Without saying a word, he lifted the covers and waited for me to get in. Once I was, his arms were instantly around me, holding me closer to him. His warmth surrounded me, my back to his front. His hand on my waist gripped me tighter. He moved my hair away from his face and kissed my neck a few times. Then he pulled back, "Huh," I hear him say.

 "What?"

 "Nothing."

 "Bullshit, what?"

 His hand moved from my waist and flicked the name on the back of my jersey. "Who's this Marquez kid? It's not Ty's."

 I tried to contain my laugh. "Why?"

 "Because I kind of want to punch him."

 I let out a snort, and looked over my shoulder at him. He was leaning on his elbow, his head resting on his hand. I turned to face him. I couldn't hide the smirk that'd developed.

 "What's so funny?" he asked.

 I rubbed my face on his chest. He placed his hand on the small of my back and brought me to him. I could feel him through his boxers. “So?" he asked.

 "So what? Are you jealous?"

 "Quit being cute, you know I'm jealous. I'm in bed with you while you're wearing some other assholes jersey."

 I laughed.

 "What?" he repeated.

 "What are you going to do to this Marquez kid when you see him?"

 "Punch him."

 I laughed again.

 "What's so funny?"

 "You'll be punching my brother. That would be awkward."

 "What?"

 "This is Ethan's. I just wear them because they're comfortable to sleep in."

 "What?" His brows bunch together. "How did I not know what your last name was?"

 "I guess it was more important for you to get in my pants." I block my chuckle with his chest.

 "Me?" he almost shouts. "What about you?" he continues, "You basically ripped my shirt off me that night."

 I laughed, harder this time, and so did he.

 "Are you complaining?"

 "Not at all, babe. Not one bit."

 Then I moved up so my entire body covered his, our parts against each other. My hands came up to his face, my fingers tracing his dimples. "I love these," I whisper.

 He leaned up and kisses me quickly.

 "Fuck, I'm so glad-" he said, the same times I say, "Shit, I missed you like crazy today."

 My eyes widened the second the words were out of my mouth. I moaned into his chest, annoyed that I let the words slip.

 His hand went into my hair, gently pulling until I was face to face with him.

 "What did you say?" He was trying to contain a smirk.

 "Nothing. I shouldn't have said it."

 His smirk turned into confusion. "What? Why?"

 "I don't know. “My eyes cast downwards. "I mean, you don't think it's too soon to be saying stuff like that?"

 He kissed me again, longer this time.

 "Maybe," he said, smiling. "But not for me, too soon, I mean. And even if it is, who gives a shit."

 Logan

 She wasn’t in my bed when I woke up the next morning. It's the ass crack of dawn, which meant she must've snuck out at some point in the middle of the night. I texted her and let her know that I was out for the day. Even though I told her I was free, I did actually have classes. I'd rather have spent the day with her. Too bad ex assholes get in the way.

 I'd organized with Jake yesterday for early practice this morning to get me ready for game day. It was still two weeks away, but I should be prepared.

 ***

 It was late afternoon by the time I got home and I was dead tired. No one was here when I got in so I napped for a few hours.

 I got woken up by a rustling sound coming from somewhere in my room. I slowly opened my eyes and saw her sitting at my new desk, her hands working away at something. I sat up, rubbing my eyes.

 'Don't look," she said, never looking up from her task. "It's nearly done. Just wait."

 I didn't bother replying.

 "Okay," she said, standing and walking over to me. She had her hands behind her back, hiding whatever she was holding.

 I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the floor with a thud. Her eyes widened when she saw I just wearing boxers. I'll never, ever, get sick of her reaction to my body. Ever.

 "I got you something really lame, are you ready?" she laughed.

 I chuckled, placing my palms flat on the back of her thighs and bringing her between my legs.

 "But first..." she raised an eyebrow, "...you need to put a shirt on."

 I shook my head no.

 "Fine," she exaggerated, then brought her hand forward and gave me something wrapped in newspaper.

 I ripped it open. It was John Mayer's Room For Squares album on vinyl. "Holy shit!" My eyes rose to meet hers.

 "You like it?" she asked excited.

 "I love it. But when? I mean how? What?" I can't seem to form a clear sentence.