Archive of Our Own

You didn’t know who Jamie Tartt was when you first met him. You don’t have much of an interest in sports, and any knowledge you do have of the game is second hand from family and friends. You might have heard Jamie’s name yelled around a bar or at a friend's house, but you’ve never given it much thought beyond that, and you certainly had no idea what he looked like.

So when he walks into your bookstore one night, you greet him like you would any other customer. “Hi, let me know if I can help you find anything.”

His head turns toward you at the sound of your voice, and he pauses, like he’s waiting for something else to happen. After an uncomfortable beat where the two of you just stare at each other, he finally speaks. “Yeah, thanks.” 

You give him a small smile and go back to your job. You’re standing behind the front counter finishing up the day's inventory, trying to go as quickly as possible so you can get home. You love your job, you love your store and your books and are proud of everything you’ve put into it, but inventory nights are far from your favorite. You’d usually have someone else here to help you, but you sent your employee home a few hours ago because you knew she had a date tonight. Some have said that you’re too nice to your employees, but you say it’s a way to foster a positive working environment. 

“Uh. Excuse me.” 

Your head snaps up from your computer, finding the customer from earlier standing in front of you. You’re momentarily hung up on how he says me , drawing out the vowel at the end of the word. You notice that he’s got his hands tucked into the front hem of his shirt, tugging on it while he speaks, and it makes you smile for some reason. “Do you have any…self improvement books?” 

“Oh. Yeah, we have a…a few in the back, hold on.” You turn your attention back to your computer, checking to see which ones you have in stock. “Did you have a specific kind in mind?”

“What do you mean?” He’s trying to peek around the counter and look at your computer screen, very unsubtly, so you tilt the screen so he can see it. When he leans over the counter to look, a lock of his hair falls over his forehead and across his eyes, and you’re a little dazed as you watch him huff and tuck his hair behind his ear. 

You’re distracted by his accent too and it takes you a second longer to answer than is acceptable. Get it together . “Well, there are all kinds of self-help books. Making money, being more confident, getting ahead at work, ones about making friends–”

“That one, the last one.” He cuts you off, voice suddenly gruff. He isn’t looking at you anymore, but you give him a small smile all the same. 

“Yeah, we have those. I’ll grab it for you.” Usually you would just tell the customer where the book was so they could get it, and maybe look around if they wanted, but you needed a second away from your desk. This is hardly the first time a hot customer has been a distraction, but it is the first time you’re letting it affect you this much. You usually have better self-control, you usually don’t get sidetracked by a customer’s hair or hands or anything . You tell yourself that for the rest of the time he’s here, you won’t notice anything else about him. 

You grab the book and make your way back to the front register, slowing down as you approach him. Holy fuck, you didn’t think someone could be blessed with a heart-stopping face and a body like that. Your eyes track over his broad shoulders down to his ass and thighs, and you’re only reminded to keep walking at the threat that he could turn around any second and see you checking him out. You don’t even know his name . 

You shake yourself out of whatever is happening to you and start ringing up the book for him. It would probably be bad for business to get caught checking out one of your customers, so you don’t give yourself anymore opportunities to linger on him. “Can I help you with anything else tonight?” 

“No, just this.” He takes out his wallet and pays, but he signs the receipt too illegibly for you to figure out his name. “Do you really not know who I am?” 

“No.” You draw out the word and tilt your head, giving him a once over. He’s beautiful, there’s no denying that, but you don’t recognize anything about him. You like to think you would have remembered someone who looks like that , with a sharp jawline and full lips and hazel eyes. Not to mention his accent. You don’t miss the self-absorbed aspect to the question though, which might be part of why he’s looking for self-improvement books. “Should I?” 

“No, it’s fine.” He grabs his book and shoves it into the duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, and it takes every ounce of self control to not wince. You have to remind yourself that not everyone has the same reverence for books as you do, and that’s fine. “Thanks again.” 

Then he’s gone. You don’t expect to ever see him again, you expect him to be nothing more than a memory or a story about that one hot customer. You look back to your list of everything you still have to inventory and sigh. At least you’ll have something fun to think about for the next few hours. 

~

He does come back to your store, which is surprising, but what’s more surprising is that he comes back with Keeley Jones. Keely fucking Jones. Who you’ve been half in love with ever since you read her article in the Vanity Fair business issue. You can’t believe this is happening, you can’t believe Keeley Jones is in your store , that you might actually get to talk to her. You watch, practically starstruck, as the two of them make their way to your register, but for all your talk about how beautiful that man is, all you can focus on is Keeley. 

“Hello.” Keeley says, and you limit yourself to three seconds of obvious staring before you blink back to reality. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that you would meet her, that she would ever be standing in front of you. “Do you have a romance section?” 

“Yes, it’s– it’s to your right.” You point over their heads to where you stock all your romance books, your largest and most popular section. She’s even more beautiful in person, and the photos in the article made her look very beautiful. You’re thanking whatever higher power is listening that you’re not making a fool of yourself in front of her, that you haven’t lost your ability to speak normally. “Let me know if you’re looking for a specific book, I can help you find it or order it if we don’t have it in stock.” 

“Thanks, love.” Keeley smiles at you, and it’s probably the best thing to ever happen to you. She’s got the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, eyes that sparkle in a way you didn’t think was possible outside of cartoons. This was probably the best moment of your life. 

You watch as Keeley bumps her shoulder into the man’s shoulder, and you suddenly remember that he’s there. Right. Other people exist right now than Keeley Jones. You smile at him and are about to ask him how he’s enjoying his book, but then you realize he might not want it advertised that he bought a self help book about how to make friends, and your mouth clicks shut. No one seems to notice, luckily, because Keeley is shooting the man a look that’s making him look very put out. 

“Right, uh.” You didn’t realize how much you missed his overexaggerated accent until you were hearing it again. He looks embarrassed, and his hands are tucked into the front hem of his shirt again. You wonder why he does that. “Thanks for the book. It’s been…helpful.” 

“Oh, good.” You give him a genuine smile, and he seems to lose some of his tough exterior. You’re always glad when someone enjoys a recommendation or finds something positive in a book they bought from you, but you so rarely hear it from your customers after the fact. He’s still looking at you, like he might be expecting something from you again, and you’re reminded of his question. Do you really not know who I am?  

You realize he must be someone , to have asked you that question or expect a different reaction from you when he walked into your store. You wrack your brain for ideas of where you might have seen him, or where someone might know Keeley Jones from since they seem to be friendly, but you still come up empty. You still don’t even know his name, so figuring out who this guy is is still next to impossible. 

“Great, well, we’re going to have a look around. Thanks again.” Keeley gives you another bright, show stopping smile and drags whoever this guy is away with her, toward the romance section. You force your eyes not to follow him as he walks away, but it’s admittedly difficult. You don’t know how many more times you’ll have the opportunity to check him out as he walks away, but there are more important things happening right now. You wonder why he wanted a book on how to make friends, since it looks like Keeley is a close enough friend already, but you guess there could be a lot of reasons someone might want more friends. 

Keeley roams around the romance section for about a half hour, and you occasionally hear a squeal or a high pitched expletive that helps you keep an eye on her location. You hope her squeals are positive, because if Keeley came into your store and hated it or wasn’t impressed by your book selection, it would probably kill you. No one else would ever really know, but you would know, and every morning when you walked into work you would have to think Keeley Jones hates my business. You try and get a glimpse of her face to gauge her reaction better, but she doesn’t wander much from the aisles, and you refuse to walk over there and check on her directly. Even you knew that would be too much. 

When she comes back to the counter with her books, you’re pleased to see that it’s a series of modern Jane Austen retellings, starting with Pride and Prejudice . “I love this series.” you tell her as you’re scanning her books at the register. 

“Yeah? You’ve read them?” Keeley sounds like she’s genuinely asking, not like she’s just being polite after you shared your opinion. 

You jump at the opportunity to tell her why you like the books she picked out. “I think the author does a really good job of keeping the important elements of the story while adding enough of her own new ideas to keep it fresh. This is the series I always recommend when people ask for retellings, I think it’s the best one out there.” 

“You hear that, Jamie? I have good taste.” Keeley throws a wink over her shoulder, and Jamie gives her a smug smile in return. 

So his name is Jamie. It still doesn’t help you recognize him or place him anywhere. You’re ringing up the last of her books and printing the receipt, and you’re realizing your time with Keeley is running out. This is your only chance to tell Keeley that you admire her, that you loved her in the issue of Vanity Fair and that she’s a total inspiration to you. 

You start talking while you pass her the receipt and her bag. Now or never. “Um, I’m sure you get this a lot, but I just wanted to say that I loved you in the Vanity Fair article. You really inspired me to follow through with my business idea and keep working at it, even when it would have been way easier to just give up. So– thank you.”

Keeley’s eyes go wide and a little misty, and you’re worried for a split second that you said the wrong thing, but then she’s leaning over the counter and pulling you into the tightest hug you’ve ever received. You quickly return the hug, shocked but knowing that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. When Keeley pulls back, she wipes a little under her eyes and takes hold of your forearms and looks directly into your eyes as she speaks. It’s the most intense conversation you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s wonderful. “You’ve just made my day– my week! You have a wonderful store and you’re such a delight, you’re gonna be great!”

“Oh, wow. Thank you.” You’ve never been the recipient of such intense, direct praise, especially about your work. It’s nice. 

“Alright, Keeley.” Jamie says from behind her. Keeley rolls her eyes playfully, for only you to see, and you can’t help the smile that grows on your face. “We only had an hour, we’re going to be late now.” 

As they leave and walk past you toward the door, you hear a little bit of their conversation. You blush almost immediately at Keeley’s compliment, not believing a woman as beautiful and successful as her would compliment you about anything, but whatever Jamie says gets lost in the door and over the normal volume of the store. 

“Can’t believe I haven’t found this place before, she’s great…and fucking fit too, just like you–.”

“Okay, but you see how she doesn’t–” 

~

The third time you speak to Jamie, he comes back alone and twenty minutes before close. You’re prepared to give this customer a vicious eye roll behind their back as soon as you hear the door open, because today twenty minutes from close might as well say Closed in neon letters, but then you realize it’s Jamie. 

“Oh. Hi.” you say, your anger quickly redirects to something more pleasant. Which is weird, and something you don’t want to read too much into, because you barely know him and have spoken a handful of sentences to him. And he’s probably famous, but you have no idea what for. 

“Hey.” Jamie walks right up to the counter, hands in his jacket pockets and looks around like it’s the first time he’s taking it all in. You're not too proud to say that your store is pretty, you’ve put a lot of time and effort into making it look exactly how you want and it’s noticeable. All the books are organized on antique oak bookshelves, grouped by genre, backed against walls that you painted a pale green. There are a few shelves separate from the main groupings, like staff recommendations, new releases, and popular books, all lined up near the large windows that face the street. You scoured the internet for the best, softest chairs for reading, and landed on these cozy, dark green barrel chairs that are placed in every corner of the store, which almost everyone asks about so they can buy one for their home. 

You poured your heart into this store, and you like when people take notice. But Jamie has been taking notice for a long time, and it’s getting uncomfortable. He’s looking around now like he’s avoiding making eye contact with you, which is weird because he’s the one who came into your store. 

It does give you an opportunity to look at him, though. He’s as pretty as you remember, maybe even more so now. He’s let his hair grow out a little and added blonde highlights to the top layer, but it’s all pushed back in a headband tonight. It takes the hair off his forehead a little, and you notice that he’s got a small scar on his eyebrow that you hadn’t seen before, and you wonder where he got it from. He looks a little sweaty, but he’s wearing athletic clothes, so you assume he just came from the gym. You don’t let your eyes wander over his shoulder and arms like you want to, because you do have some self restraint, but you trust they look good in his long sleeve athletic shirt. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

“Yes, I’m here for a book.” Jamie says this with a little smile on his face, like it didn’t even occur to him that he just said something ridiculous.

You smirk. Of all the things to say when in a bookstore. “Yes, I would imagine so.” 

“A specific book.” Jamie continues, undeterred. “A recommendation this time— your favorite book.”

“My favorite book.” you say slowly. No one has ever come in asking for your favorite book as a recommendation. It’s…it’s sweet, if not unexpected. You didn’t really think of Jamie as much of a reader, since he came in once for a self help book and didn’t even bother looking around, and when he came in with Keeley he didn’t buy anything. 

You feel a blush spread across your face when you realize why he’s asking for your favorite book. He wants to get to know you, he wants to know what you like. Suddenly flustered, you pretend to straighten things in front of you that are already perfect, this time it’s you avoiding eye contact with Jamie. You know it’s stupid, but you’re worried if you give Jamie your favorite book, it will be like bearing your soul to him, that it will be something too intimate for you to handle. In reality you it’s just a book that Jamie is going to read, but it’s also so much more than that. It’s a window into who you are, a clear picture of what tugs at your heart strings and what you value, and you aren’t sure you’re ready to let Jamie see all of that in you. Then there’s the implication of Jamie asking for your favorite book, because he wouldn’t ask for it if he wasn’t…interested, in some capacity. Right?

“Yes.” Jamie rocks forward on his toes a few times, a stupid, cocky smile on his face that you shouldn’t like so much. 

“Did you have a, um, a preferred genre?” You doubt Jamie is a fan of romance books, but that’s all that’s coming to your mind right now. 

“No. Just your favorite.” 

“Alright, give me a second.” You walk out from behind the counter and make your way to the romance section, immediately walking to the section your favorite book is. You hear some scuffing behind you and turn to see Jamie following you into the shelves, but you quickly turn to face forward again. Way to play that cool .

You were hoping for a second alone while you got the book, for some time to calm yourself down and convince yourself that this wasn’t anything more than it seemed. But with Jamie following so close behind you and the unmistakable feeling of eyes on you, you’re having a hard time convincing yourself of anything. 

Once you get to where your favorite book is on the shelves, you pretend to look for it so you can not so subtly look at Jamie. He’s got his hands tucked in the front of his shirt again, which makes you smile to yourself, but you quickly move your eyes away from his hips before you get even more distracted. You try to sneak a glance at Jamie’s face, but find him already looking at you, and you quickly look away and grab the book you came for. You hope your face isn’t as red as you feel it is. 

“ Beach Read is my favorite book. But it’s not about the beach. Mostly.” You hand the book over to Jamie, overthinking the simple gesture. Hour fingers brush as Jamie takes the book from you, and you know he didn’t do that on purpose, because that doesn’t actually happen in real life, but it felt purposeful. You think. 

“Yeah. Neat cover.” Jamie flips the book over to read the description and you’re pleased when you see him nodding along. “But don’t I have to pay for this first?” 

“Right.” You grab the book from Jamie’s hands and head to your front counter. What is wrong with you tonight? Just handing books away to customers and getting caught checking them out. You are a business owner, you remind yourself as you ring up the book, and you need to be professional. No matter how distracting or endearing certain customers might be. 

“Your boss has you working this late?”

You pause, your brain feeling like a record scratch. This hasn’t happened to you before, someone assuming that you don’t own the store and that you aren’t in charge. It’s never come up in this way with a customer before, but it’s jarring all the same. You don’t really know what to do, so you awkwardly say, “I am the boss. This is my store.” 

Jamie makes an expression that can only be described as oh shit , and it breaks any awkwardness you were feeling. You leave him floundering for a minute and probably enjoy it way too much. “It’s not because you’re a woman. I think women can be the boss, my boss is a woman. You know— I support women. Go women.” Jamie makes a fist near his chest and bumps it a few times, and you press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say woman that many times in a single point.” You smile at him to let him know no harm done. If Jamie was the type to look down on women, it would have been noticeable before tonight, and you wouldn’t have given him a second look. 

“Well, you know, I’m a record breaker.” Jamie takes the book you hand him, again shoving it in his duffel bag. Something breaks in your heart seeing your favorite book treated like that, but you have to let it go. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask it genuinely, curious about what Jamie could be so good at that he’s known as a record breaker. Maybe he’s in those eating competitions, and that’s why he’s famous. 

But Jamie reacts like he’s been shocked. He startles and fish-mouths at you before he speaks. “Nothing. Gotta go, but I’ll be back to let you know what I think about your book.”

“I look forward to it.” You speak before you can think about the words, and the second they’re out of your mouth you wish you could take them back. You briefly consider slamming your forehead onto your counter, but Jamie surprises you and winks at you as he walks out of your store. 

As soon as you hear the front door close behind Jamie, you press your face into your hands and let out an embarrassing scream. Everything Jamie does leaves you feeling flustered, leaves you more interested and wanting more from him. More conversation, more time alone with him, more of him . You haven’t felt like this in a long time, haven’t met someone who’s grabbed your interest so quickly and so completely, and it’s terrifying. It’s a little fun, if you’re being honest with yourself, but mostly terrifying.  

~

You’re at a friend's house when you finally learn who Jamie is. The game is on, everyone is in a foul mood because Richmond is losing, but you’re having an okay time. The food is good, all of your friends are together for the night, and you have nowhere else to be. 

A goal kick of some kind is happening on the screen, and you gather that it must be important with the way everyone is hunched forward and vibrating with anxiety. The camera on the screen slides from the commentators to someone’s back as they’re preparing to make a goal. You have a few seconds as the camera pans over their body to think, hey that looks familiar, before Jamie’s nervous face is taking over your friend’s TV screen. 

“Oh, my God.” you whisper, before you can think better of it. “I know him.” 

Three things happen all at once: Jamie scores a goal and all you can focus on is his smiling face on the TV, all of your friends start yelling and demanding information on how you know the Jamie Tartt, and you nearly have a heart attack. 

Do you really not know who I am?  

You get the impression that Jamie is kind of a big deal. 

~

Jamie is definitely a big deal. After you made enough excuses and ran out of your friend's apartment, you rushed home and laid in bed for hours reading about Jamie Tartt. The headlines, the gossip, the rumors. He’s one of Richmond’s top players, from what you understand. You’ve watched all the videos of his best on field moments, the rare interview clips, and one edit of Jamie before you became too ashamed of yourself to continue. 

You notice a change in Jamie throughout all the videos you watch and articles you read. Some of them can’t be trusted, but you notice that Jamie becomes less snarky during interviews, he passes the ball more, and he celebrates with his team after a goal, rather than alone. His new hair cut doesn’t hurt either. You could just be reading too much into videos that random people put together, but it seems like something. There are less negative things about him in the press the more recent you look, ‘insider sources’ reporting that Jamie has become more of a team player in recent years. 

So you know who Jamie is now. It doesn’t feel as satisfying as you thought it would, figuring out that mystery. You feel like you violated Jamie’s privacy somehow, even though you know that’s illogical. You don’t know if your dynamic is going to change, now that you know who he is. Do you have to tell him that you figured it out? Do you have to tell him that you don’t care about any of it? Will Jamie notice that you know who he is now, even if you don’t tell him? 

Questions and worries surround you until you eventually fall asleep, but you don’t even get any relief while you’re unconscious. You dream that Jamie comes into your store and tells you that he hated your recommendation and that he’s never coming back, that he’s too good to come back. You wake up feeling even more unsettled. 

~

You see Jamie two weeks later. You understand now why he always comes in late at night and always weeks after his last visit, his schedule must be hell this time of year. 

Seeing Jamie on TV is much different to seeing him in person. After you realized who he was, you may or may not have looked up Richmond’s schedule and made an effort to watch the games when you could, just to see Jamie play. He’s good, he’s really good, but he’s…different when he plays. He’s a little cocky, a little pushy. He’s never acted like that with you, so you figure it’s a game persona of some kind, and it seems to be highly effective. And against your better judgment, you found it insanely hot to watch Jamie goad the other players, not that you would ever admit that to anyone. 

But when Jamie comes back into your store two weeks after you gave him your recommendation, he has to wait in line until he can talk to you again. You spot him as soon as he walks in though— you’ve developed a bad habit of looking at the door immediately after it opens, each time getting your hopes up that it’ll be Jamie who walks through. It pays off this time though, because Jamie does walk through the door, and you see the scowl he briefly wears when he sees there’s a line of people between you and him. 

You focus on your customers as best you can, but you can’t help it when your eyes occasionally wander to Jamie. You see him standing there, lips pursed and looking around impatiently, and you force yourself to look away before you get caught staring, again. 

Jamie isn’t wearing his workout clothes today. He’s wearing jeans and a white hoodie with bunched up fabric around the neck, a couple gold necklaces and a dark green and plaid jacket over it. He isn’t wearing his typical headband either, and you get the sudden urge to run your fingers through his hair. Be professional, don’t be weird . 

By the time it’s Jamie’s turn at the counter, it’s been a few minutes but now it’s just the two of you alone in the store. “Hi.” your voice is embarrassingly breathless, your lips quirked up in a little smile just seeing him in front of you again. 

“Hey.” Jamie looks you over and gives you a little smile too. You wonder what he sees in you, wonder what he thinks when he looks at you. “You’ve been alright?” 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah I’ve been good, yeah.” You’re flustered at his question and regret how many times you say yeah almost immediately. “How’ve you been?”

“Yeah, not bad, not bad. Yeah.” There’s a moment where neither of you say anything, where you just look at each other, and you want the ground to swallow you whole. Are you making it awkward because you know about Jamie’s job now? You’ve never had a problem talking to him before, never felt so stiff and weird when he’s been in front of you before. 

“I read your book.” Jamie breaks the silence and you barely hold back your sigh of relief. Jamie reaches into his bag and takes out the book he bought from you, and this time you can’t hold back your reaction. You gasp at the sight of it, instantly reaching out to touch it. 

“What did you do to this thing?” The corners of the covers are all bent and half falling off, the spine of the book is cracked to hell, and the outsides of the pages are all curved and crackly, like there’s been extensive water damage. You press your hand down on the cover of the book to flatten it out, but as soon as you take your hand away it curves back up over the first page of the book. Your heart breaks at the sight of it, at the once perfect book suffering so much. 

“What?” Jamie looks at the book too, but he looks at it like he isn’t seeing a crime in progress. “I read it, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” 

Oh, well. You’ve never thought of it like that before, how a ‘damaged’ book could just be someone’s well read and well loved copy. You tilt your head at Jamie as you think about that, helpless to stop a smile from overtaking your face. All hopes of being professional and not weird fly right out the window as you look at him, as he returns your gaze and makes your heart feel like it’s going to beat right out of your chest. You want to learn all his thoughts like that, all the things he thinks of differently than you and everything that challenges you. 

“Well, what did you think?” You ask nervously, biting your bottom lip while you wait for his answer. You notice how Jamie’s eyes linger on your lips for a second too long, and you feel your breath hitch. You feel like this is an important part in your…friendship, if Jamie liked the book or not. It’s your favorite book, and if Jamie didn’t like it, you don’t know how you would ever recover from that. If you would ever recover. 

“I loved it.”

“Really?” A huge smile overtakes your face, a weight lifted off your shoulders. It feels better than you ever could have imagined to have the confirmation that Jamie enjoyed the book. 

“Yeah. Never thought myself much of a reader, but maybe I just haven’t found the right books.” Jamie leans his elbows on your counter and gets closer than is socially acceptable to you, but not so close as to not leave you any other options. You could pull away if you wanted, you could take a step back from your counter and that would be that, but you don’t want to. You want to see where this goes, you want to be close to Jamie and get that strong whiff of his cologne, you want to see all the imperfections in his skin and the exact shade of his eyes this close up. 

Jamie looks up at you from under his eyelashes, cocky smile on his face. You recognize it from the games you’ve watched, when the camera cuts close to his face after he pushes another player too far and they get fouled. You don’t know what it says about you that it sends a rush through your entire body to have that look directed at you. “Good thing I found you, huh?” 

That feels like a punch to the chest, like all the breath gets knocked out of you in a single second. You’ve never felt more lightheaded in your entire life, more unbalanced and unsure of what you should do next. You stare, struck by his words and proximity to you, and don’t know what to say. You weren’t ready for it, you 

You want to kiss him. You want to pull him over your counter and lay him out, climb on top of him and kiss him until he loses that smirk. You want to know what it would feel like to be kissed by him, to be devoured by him and all consumed by his kiss. You want to feel his hands on your body, you want to finally know what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair, you want to finally see how well the two of you would fit together. You want to kiss him, badly. But you don’t. 

He must take your silence as a rejection because he coughs and leans back. You want to pull him back and apologize, but it’s too late. The moment passed, and you can only hope that there will be another one. 

“You got any more recommendations for me?” Jamie looks sheepish, like he’s testing the waters after you didn’t say anything to him before, and you can’t help but notice how the emotion doesn’t suit him. 

“For you, always.” you hope your sincerity makes up for the missed opportunity before, hope it conveys something to Jamie. What that something is you aren’t sure yet, but you don’t want him feeling like he did something wrong. You walk Jamie toward your fantasy section and hand him a book. This time it’s you who holds onto the book for a little too long so your fingers will graze each other, and it’s just as thrilling as the first time it happened. 

“ Nettle & Bone . It’s about a girl’s journey to save her sister from an abusive husband, and she picks up people who will help her along the way.” 

“Sounds cool.” Jamie seems hesitant about something, looking you up and down and eyes lingering on your face, before he takes a step closer to you. You inhale quickly at his proximity, surprised to have him so close so soon. This time it’s you looking up at Jamie as he speaks, and it never really hit you until now that he’s so much taller than you, since you’re always standing behind the front counter. “I was thinking after I read this one, I could take you out and we could talk about it.” 

You bite your lip to contain your smile, but it’s hopeless. You know exactly what to do this time. “Yes. I’d like that.” 

~

You’ve never felt this way after a first date, embarrassingly giddy and like you weren’t ready for the night to end. You could have easily spent a few more hours with Jamie, but you’ve already been out all night and you both have things to do tomorrow. You started the night at dinner, a fancy restaurant that had you feeling incredibly out of place until Jamie started talking and you forgot all your discomfort. Then you stopped for ice cream after dinner and took a long walk through the park, somehow never running out of things to talk about. 

You knew it would be the best date you would ever go on halfway through dinner, when Jamie actually started to discuss the book you recommended to him and didn’t exclusively mean it as a line to ask you out. Nothing could top this gorgeous guy talking about one of your favorite books with you, making you consider it from a different point of view and agreeing with your views so passionately. 

Jamie walked you back to your apartment at the end of the night, which you appreciated him doing without you having to ask. You walk Jamie up to the sidewalk in front of your building and turn to face it awkwardly, which is something you thought people only did in movies. “This is me.” 

“Mmhm.” Jamie hums. At some point during the night, Jamie took hold of your hand and never let it go, swinging your hands between the two of your bodies while you were walking through the park. You’re not too big to admit that it filled your stomach with butterflies, doing something so cheesy and romantic that it felt like it was straight out of a movie. Things like that didn’t really happen to you, especially not with someone as beautiful as Jamie. Now he pulls your linked hands up to his face and kisses your knuckles, and it’s all you can do to stay standing. Just like out of a movie. “Did you have a good time?”

He knows you had a good time, you can see it on his face. Smug bastard. But you can’t help the wide smile that overtakes your face, the blush that spreads across your cheeks, or the way you immediately say yes. “Course I did. It’s probably the best date I’ve ever been on.” Now it’s your turn to watch him blush, to watch him look down at your still tangled hands for a beat too long. You get why Jamie does it now, why he says and asks you things that he knows will make you blush. It feels good to be the smug bastard. You tug on your hands until he looks back up at you again. “When can I see you again?”

The moment breaks. Jamie pulls back, just barely but you notice, and you blink rapidly wondering what was wrong with what you said. You just spent all night together, you both confirmed you had a great time, but now he’s pulling back after you ask to see him again? Jamie doesn’t seem the type to care about a woman asking about dates, so your mind instantly jumps to the worst conclusions. Jamie has a secret girlfriend, you’re the secret girlfriend, or that this was never leading toward anything other than tonight. Maybe that’s why he offered to walk you home. 

You start to pull back from Jamie and let go of his hand, and you see him open his mouth to start talking, but you cut him off. It’s easier if you start the rejection, if you give yourself some false sense of control over the situation it’ll help you move on faster. “If you don’t want—“

“I do want.” Jamie says quickly, reaching out to you, but then seems to think better of it and lets his hands drop to his sides again. “Just— I have to tell you something first. Before this goes any further.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms in front of your chest and narrow your eyes at him. You briefly consider that you’re being too harsh, but you assume whatever it is, it has to be at least a little bad for Jamie to have reacted like that. You should have known nothing could be this perfect without a problem, that Jamie couldn’t have been someone special without there being a catch. 

Jamie takes a deep breath and breathes it out slowly through his lips, and you feel like every breath you try to take gets caught in your chest. What could be so serious that Jamie is reacting this way? You’ve never seen him nervous, let alone this nervous. “I play for Richmond. I’m a professional football player, and I’m really good so I’m pretty well known.” 

You burst out laughing. You try to stop it, you put a hand over your mouth and try so hard to stop laughing, but you can’t help it. That’s what was so serious? That’s what had him acting like it would be something that would change your mind? 

Jamie looks hurt, understandably, and you do feel bad about that. “What’s so funny about that?” His eyebrows are drawn in and his lips are pursed, and now it’s his turn to cross his arms over his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I am, I’m sorry.” You let out one more relieved laugh and grab onto his biceps and tug on them until he uncrosses his arms, then you let your hands glide down his arms until you’re holding his hands again. Jamie has nice arms, and that’s something you’ve always noticed, but you’ve never had a good excuse to touch them until now. “I’m not laughing at your skills, I’m sure you’re very good.” You know for a fact he’s very good, he’s better than good, but you don’t want to tell him that. Not yet, anyway. “I’ve just— I’ve known who you are for a few weeks now.” 

The surprise and shock on Jamie’s face almost makes you start laughing again, but you hold it in this time. He blinks at you and opens his mouth to speak a few times, but he’s unable to find the words. You take pity on him, because you do feel bad about the laughing and you have some more things to explain. “I didn’t know who you were when you first came in, but a while after that I saw you on TV when I was at my friend's apartment. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything— I thought maybe it would be weird, and I didn’t really know how to bring it up.” 

The only thing Jamie has to say to that is, “You don’t watch football?” 

You scrunch up your face like an apology. “No. Is that a deal breaker?” 

That seems to break Jamie out of his shock, and he drops your hands to instead wrap his arms around your waist. You let out a little squeak as he pulls you against him and tightens his arms around you, and you watch as a smirk slides across his face. You’ve never been this close to him before, never had his chest and legs pressed against yours, and it’s embarrassing how much it’s affecting you. You place your hands back on his biceps, because if he’s allowed to indulge and touch you, then you’re allowing yourself too. “Come to a game and watch me play. I’ll change your mind.” 

“I’ve seen you play already and it didn’t change much, so—”

Jamie cuts off your teasing with a much better incentive. “You can sit in the owner's box with Keeley.” 

“Are you serious?” You smile and jump up and down a little, conscious of how Jamie is still holding you. You don’t want to think about how obvious your admiration (or love, but that’s something you’ll only admit to yourself) of Keeley was that Jamie remembered it all this time later, but you’re grateful for the opportunity to see her again. “Okay. I’ll go to a game. For Keeley.” 

Jamie groans, playfully. You don’t think you’ve ever smiled this much on a first date, let alone enjoyed yourself this much. It’s strange how much fun you have with Jamie after only having a handful of conversations and one date with him. You don’t ever want to lose that feeling. It’s not something you’ve ever felt with another guy, and you hope that Jamie feels the same way about you. 

“I’ll bring you my jersey so you can wear it to the game.” 

Something hot rushes through you at the idea of wearing Jamie’s jersey, of Jamie wanting you to wear his jersey with thousands of other people around you. You typically don’t like possessive behavior in guys, but that’s not what this feels like to you. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Okay, good.” Jamie pulls back and lets his hands slide off your waist, going much slower than is socially acceptable and lingering too long on your hips. You bite your lower lip and swallow thickly, and you’re sure Jamie heard it. Jamie tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear and lets his fingers slide slowly down your jaw, and you don’t know how he has this kind of effect on you, but it’s driving you crazy. With Jamie’s eyes focused solely on you, you know that he can see your rapid breathing and your eyes shifting to and from his lips, and you don’t know how much longer you can wait. 

“Can I kiss you?” Jamie whispers as he cups your cheek. You don’t say yes, you don’t say anything, you don’t want to waste any more time. You stand on your tiptoes and pull Jamie into a kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair like you’ve been dying to. Jamie hums against your lips in surprise, the vibrations making you shiver, but he quickly parts his lips and wraps his hands around your waist again, but much tighter this time. It’s everything you imagined and more. You feel lit up everywhere Jamie is touching you, feel electric where Jamie’s fingertips are digging into your lower back. It’s too good to be a first kiss, you don’t know how you’ll ever be able to experience kissing someone else and not feel let down. 

You give Jamie one final quick kiss before you separate from him and start walking backwards toward your apartment building. “For the jersey, I wear a medium.”  you call out to Jamie, and you can see his smile all the way from the lobby door. 

~

Jamie drops by the next morning and even through your surprise at seeing him you can see that he’s in a rush. He rushed through your front door, breathing heavily and pushing his hair out of his face. He’s never been in your store in the morning and you feel your brain record scratch at seeing him in the morning, at seeing him in your store when the morning light is shining through your front windows. 

“Hi. Can’t stay long.” Jamie rushes to say. He leans over the front counter and kisses your cheek, then drops back down on his feet and reaches into his duffel bag. “This is for you. Can’t wait to see you wear it.” 

Then he’s leaving, and all you manage to say is, “Okay, bye.” before Jamie’s flying out your front door. You lightly touch your cheek where Jamie kissed you, only now processing what happened so quickly. You look down at the counter where Jamie left a small box, and you know it’s going to be the jersey and a ticket to a game, but you still feel a rush at opening it. 

You pick up the jersey and immediately turn it around, seeing Jamie’s last name printed big over the number nine. You double check to make sure no one’s around to see you do this, but you lay out the jersey on your counter and run your hand over Jamie’s last name, imagining it splayed across your back. You pick up the ticket next and don’t recognize anything special about it, but you see the scrap of paper paper clipped to the ticket. 

Keeley said to give you her number and to text her on game day so she can walk you to your seats. She told me to make it clear that you should NOT feel weird about texting her, even if it’s not about the game, so please use her number or else I’ll never hear the end of it 

Can’t wait to see you ;)

~

You go to the game and sit with Keeley and Rebecca, who is intimidating and scary and a wonderful person, and it’s fun to sit with Keeley and get to know her more casually. She explains all the parts of the game that you don’t understand, but at the end of the day you don’t leave the game with a greater understanding than you came with. 

At some point during the game, Jamie is gearing up to score a goal, doing some last minute stretches and bounces in front of the ball that you’ve come to learn are customary. Jamie looks up in the direction you’re sitting and gives you a little wave, and even though you know he can’t see you, you give him a little wave back. You don’t comment on the little glances and smiles Keeley and Rebecca give you when they see you do that. You made the mistake of looking at them when you were cheering wildly for Jamie earlier, and their grinning was warning enough. 

Jamie scores, and his first look is to the section you’re sitting in before he gets surrounded by his teammates. You’re cheering and clapping with the rest of them, but the smile you’re wearing is just you, just for Jamie. Once their celebration ends and you can single out Jamie again, it’s like the next few seconds play out in slow motion. The camera for the big screen is still on Jamie, so you can see perfectly as he kisses his fingertips and points to your section, pointing to you . The camera zooms in close to Jamie’s face when they realize he’s saying something, and the commentators are quick to pick up that he’s shouting “That was for you!” 

You have a split second to worry if the camera is going to pan to your section and put you on the screen before you realize how stupid that sounded. No one could ever figure out it was your exact section that Jamie was pointing to. Once the panic of being projected on the big screen fades, you process what Jamie just did for you. He dedicated a goal to you in front of thousands of people, and normally that would make your anxiety skyrocket, but today it…doesn’t. You loved the gesture, you’ve never had someone dedicate something to you, and it was very sweet of Jamie to think of you after his success. You slowly cover the lower half of your face with your hand, hiding the blush that you’re sure is spreading all over your face. You watch Jamie walk away from the goal casually, like he didn’t just secure the game for his team, like he didn’t just send shockwaves through your entire world. 

After the game ends, you wait for Jamie with Keeley a handful of steps away from the locker room doors, watching all the guys leave. Keeley points out each of their names and what they’re like, but you’re only half listening, anxiously waiting for Jamie to leave. 

You spot him as soon as he walks through the double doors, but you don’t call out to him right away. He’s wearing his athletic shorts and what looks like an old workout t-shirt, and his skin is pink like he got out of the showers recently. He’s not wearing his headband anymore, so when Keeley calls out “Oi, Jamie!”, his hair flies around his face as he turns toward the two of you. 

“Hey.” Jamie jogs over toward the two of you with a smile on his face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders when he gets to you, and you’re leaning into him before you can even think about it. He’s solid next to you, warm and a comforting weight against your side. You never really liked feeling small, but if it means you can rest next to Jamie comfortably, then it must have its perks. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. We’ll text about drinks later, yeah?” Keeley asks you before she walks away, a big smile on her face as she watches you lean into Jamie’s side. 

“You guys are friends now?” Jamie asks as he starts walking you toward the parking lot. His arm is still around your shoulders, making you occasionally walk crooked and bump into him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You say excitedly before something dawns on you. “That’s not weird, is it? Because you two used to…” After you learned who Jamie was and read everything online about him, you saw that he and Keeley used to date, but that was a while ago and you got the sense that it wasn’t super serious. 

“No, course not. It’s good.” Jamie sounds sincere, and you scan his face for any sign he might be lying before you believe him. You would have told him off if he had a problem with you being friends with Keeley, and you’re relieved you don’t have to. 

When you reach Jamie’s car, Jamie walks you forward until your back is pressed into the car door and Jamie is standing in front of you, boxing you in. You barely hold back your gasp as Jamie presses his body against you and plants his hands on either side of your head. He gives you a second to adjust before he pulls you in for a kiss, not wasting any time. Jamie parts his lips, kissing you fast and deep, leaving you breathless embarrassingly fast. Jamie digs his hands into your hips, fisting the jersey you're wearing and pulling you as close as physically possible. You let out an involuntary whimper, which only spurs Jamie on more. 

Jamie slides one of his hands from your hip to the back of your thigh, a quick squeeze all the warning you get before he’s hiking your leg around his body and pushing himself even closer against you. You gasp into the kiss, and Jamie takes the opportunity to deepen it, practically devouring you. It’s intoxicating, being this close to Jamie and having him want you this way, this much. 

You pull back first, breathing heavy, and Jamie whispers against your lips, “I really like you in my jersey.” His words send a rush through you, making it very difficult for you to not pull him in for another kiss. You don’t know how much you would enjoy any stragglers in the parking lot catching you making out with Jamie. You figured wearing the jersey would bring this kind of reaction out of Jamie, but you thought he would at least wait until you made it in the car to kiss you. 

“Yeah?” You wait until Jamie is still looking at you expectantly, squirming under the weight of not asking what he wants to ask before you break. You know he would have asked you, but you also know that he would like it more if he didn’t have to ask for it. “I thought you were very good out there. Definitely the best.” you whisper, satisfied when Jamie smiles wide. “But you knew that already.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it.” Jamie gives you his signature cocky smile, which you shouldn’t like as much as you do. 

“I think you hear it too much.” 

“They’ve gotta keep me happy somehow.”

You shove Jamie’s shoulder playfully and roll your eyes. Jamie starts to untangle himself from you and gently lets your thigh go before he opens the car door for you. The drive home is quiet except for the music playing until Jamie speaks. 

“When I came into your store that first time, I bought that book so I could learn to be a better teammate and friend. I used to be really selfish and self-absorbed, so I wasn’t always…” Jamie trails off, and you grab the hand he isn’t using to drive and squeeze reassuringly. The news isn’t a total surprise to you, courtesy of your in depth internet research after you learned who he was, but you’re surprised he admitted it to you. It’s not something you would have ever needed to hear from him directly, but you appreciate his honesty. 

Jamie wraps his hand around yours and gives you a quick look before he turns his attention back to the road. His grip on the steering wheel is tight, you can see the whites of his knuckles as his fingers clench and unclench on the wheel. He’s nervous, you realize. There isn’t much you can do from the passenger seat of his car, so you squeeze his hand again and hope it’s enough for now. “Then I came back and you gave me that other book, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way reading before. My dad is kind of…I— I don’t know, but when I got to the parts about Gus’s dad and his outlook on life, I felt seen by a book for the first time. No book had ever felt so personal to me before, like the author was seeing me and was writing what I needed to read.” 

“This might sound stupid,” Jamie continues, sounding insecure. You want to reassure him it isn’t, but he talks over you. “But I— I felt like you saw me too. By recommending me the book. Like, if you gave me the book then you must have seen something in me that needed to read it.”

You don’t know what to respond to first. Jamie’s admission of why he needed the self help book, his heartfelt declaration about what Beach Read meant to him and how you gave it to him, or sharing about his own dad. You’ve never seen this side of Jamie, truly vulnerable and cautious about what he’s saying. He’s always so confident and sure of himself, and while that isn’t a bad thing, you realize that you’ve needed to see this side of Jamie. Jamie, who’s always so self-assured and skilled and bold, does get nervous to share things with you. 

You realize you’ve been silent for too long when Jamie looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide and eyebrows scrunched together. You should probably work on that, since it’s the second time you’ve left him hanging after he put himself out there. “Thank you for telling me.” you blurt out, instantly closing your eyes in embarrassment. It sounded too clinical, too formal for what Jamie had just told you. “I didn’t realize any of that, but I’m— I’m glad you got that out of the book. It’s special to have that experience with something you read, and it makes me happy that I could give it to you.” 

Jamie doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but he does bring your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles. He lingers for a moment, and you watch You don’t know what to do when Jamie does things like this, when he’s earnest and kind and sweet. It still knocks you off your feet, still takes your breath away to receive this kind of attention from Jamie. It’s not anything you’re used to, but you’re starting to understand that it will become something to be expected.

“You’re actually very sweet, you know that?” you whisper, afraid to break the moment. You think about him asking for your favorite books as recommendations as a way to talk to you, you think about how he asked you out and how serious he was when he told you he played for Richmond, you think about him dedicating his goal to you. He’s very sweet and thoughtful, and you don’t know if he truly sees that in himself yet. 

“Yeah, but don’t let it get around.” Jamie grumbles, shooting you a glance out of the corner of his eyes. You see the smile he’s trying to hide. “I’ve got a reputation to protect here.” 

“I didn’t know that about your dad.” you say softly, testing the waters. 

Jamie’s jaw tenses and you get the impression that things are worse than he’s admitting. “Yeah. I don’t really see him a lot.” 

“Okay.” you drop it. It isn’t really any of your business, and when Jamie was ready to tell you about it, he would. He just showed you that, and you weren’t going to push his boundaries when it wasn’t necessary. 

Jamie glances at you, looking you over as much as he can while driving. You were serious about dropping it, but Jamie must have needed to look at you to confirm that. His eyes are cautious while he looks at you, like he can’t really believe that you’re letting it go that easy. Jamie must approve of whatever he sees in you because he nods and squeezes your hand that’s still tangled with his. “You’re pretty sweet too.”