The Love at First Sight Box Set

to grab his favorite blanket off the back of the couch. It smelled like him, like my best friend. Burrowing my nose in it, I took a deep breath and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 6 Levi
"If you think you ran that third mile faster than me, you're on drugs," I told Connor as he pulled his truck onto our street.
My brother side-eyed me. "I absolutely did."
"This is why I don't work out with you anymore. You're a pathological liar."
He was grinning. "Okay, sweet cheeks. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
My phone vibrated from the side pocket of my gym bag. I pulled it out and scrolled down until I found the email notification. "Awesome," I muttered. "Another 'your resume looks impressive, but we're looking for a candidate with more experience' reply." The third such one I'd gotten in the past three days. Tossing my phone down into the bag, I shook my head. "How the hell are you supposed to get experience if no one will give you a shot?"
Connor frowned in sympathy. "It's tough out there."
"I'm getting bored, man."
"Being J's personal chauffeur isn't cutting it for you anymore?"
The look I gave him should've shriveled up his balls, but he merely grinned back at me. "I'm spending the same amount of time with her that I do every summer."
"Mmkay."
"Shut up." I swallowed, not ready to admit out loud what I'd already started to think about in my head. "Man, what if I can't find a job around here? Green Valley doesn't have anything for me, and no one in Maryville is hiring. I've submitted to every place in Knoxville that's even close to what I want to be doing."
Connor sighed. "And if you start looking much farther …"
I nodded. "I'm gonna have to move, and I don't want to leave her. I don't even care how pathetic that makes me sound; it's the truth."
"But you need a job, too. You've worked your ass off for the past six years. You can hardly blame yourself for not knowing she existed when you started school and picked your major."
"Picking my major is how I met her," I reminded him. "I never would've coached that team if I was in business school or something."
We pulled into the driveway, and there was her car, parked in front of the house like it belonged there.
"Have you called Hunter?" Connor asked, referring to our oldest brother who lived in Seattle.
I gave him a weird look. "What's he gonna do? He's like, a school administrator or something."
"Yeah, at that uppity rich people prep school, man. Maybe he's got some connections he can call." Connor pulled his truck in next to Joss's car, and he looked over at it meaningfully. "Isn't it worth it to check? Let's be real, sometimes pulling a few strings is the only way someone will finally give you a shot. Or maybe Samantha does," he said, mentioning our brother's wife with a pinched forehead.
We only looked at each other briefly before he started laughing. "Yeah, I know. We've talked to her like, twice ever. Maybe not Samantha. But it can't hurt to ask Hunter."
"I suppose."
"Ask Grady too," he said, referring to our cousin. "He's got that … whatever the hell he does."
I laughed. "Don't ask me. He loses me every time he brings it up. But it's nothing to do with sports either. Some tech thing that goes way over my head."
"Can't hurt, little brother. That's what family is for, you know." Connor slugged my shoulder as I got out of his truck, and I nodded as I got out so he could head back to his place just down the road, the house Sylvia would be moving into with him after they got married.
I glanced over at my apartment, but it looked dark, so I walked through the garage and let myself in. The kitchen was empty, as was the family room. There was no answer when I called out for my mom and Joss. Hooking my gym bag over my shoulder, I walked back to my place slowly, typing out a text to Hunter.
Me: Hey, big brother, I'm tapping out all my options here for a job, and it's not looking promising. Know anybody who might talk to an incredibly intelligent Southern boy with impeccable manners and a master’s degree in sports medicine?
I hit send just before I opened the door, and through the window next to it, I saw her asleep on the couch.
As quietly as I could, I turned the knob and walked in.
Her chest rose and fell evenly, and her face was smooth as she slept deeply. She was curled on her side, my blanket covering her up to her chin. Sitting carefully on the chaise that extended out of the other side of the couch, I set my chin in my hands and watched her sleep.
In five years, I had the thought often that my life would be easier if I didn't love her. If I could look at her and not have my chest pinch painfully from the force of my tightly bound feelings. If I could be next to her and not wonder what it would feel like to tilt her mouth up to mine and kiss her smooth pink lips. It would be so much easier if I could lay awake at night and not have to wonder if I'd live with this yearning for the rest of my life.
I'd felt wild physical attraction before her—the kind of lust that only a seventeen-year-old boy could—and I wasn't a virgin. That ship sailed a solid year before I met Joss, but it wasn't something I regret. How could I have possibly known what it would feel like the day I met her? There was no way.
In the years since, I'd dated other girls. I'd kissed them, touched them, and let them touch me—sometimes spurred on by a desperation for that same spark, that same tug in my chest that Joss pulled on