When all the fans had left the Georgia Dome, celebrating the Falcons victory, the cheerleaders finally left too. I stepped out into the brisk November weather, pulling my jacket tight around me. And standing outside, waiting for me, was Cole Davis.
“Hey.” My stomach fluttered at the sight of him. Everything should have hurt to even see him, but instead, all I saw was possibility.
“What a game,” he said.
“Yeah. Falcons victory always makes for a good day.”
“Dad thinks so too.”
“I bet,” I said. Considering Hal Davis was the offensive line coach, I would think that he’d been pleased. “Where are you parked?”
“I drove in with my dad. Can I catch a ride with you?”
“Definitely.”
Cole fell into step with me, his elbow brushing against mine as we walked. We cleared the parking lot and came
