Page 49 of Catch and Cradle
I blink back the tears as I whoop and pound my teammates on their backs.
I don’t know why I ever let myself believe otherwise. This moment right here is proof of everything I need to know: there’s nothing I can’t accomplish.
“HOLY SHIT, THAT GOAL!”
Jane hauls me out of the pile-up so she can give me a hug of her own. She’s already ditched her mouth guard. She backs up so we can do a chest bump. I oblige, and we slam our bodies together. It leaves us winded and rubbing our boobs—the same result as every time we do a chest bump, but we keep doing them after winning games anyway.
It seems like everyone on the team has something to say about the goal. By the time we’ve gotten through all the post-game formalities, I’ve gotten compliments from almost every single player.
“Hastings, get over here!”
Most of the team is still milling around, slinging back water and talking with friends who came out to watch the game. I turn from where I’ve been talking with Iz and find Coach Jamal waving me down. He’s holding Khadija and standing with Becca a few meters away.
I haven’t had a chance to get a word in with Becca since the end of the game. I’m still buzzing with the high of the win. I can’t even stand in place without bouncing up and down on my toes. It’s all I can do not to sprint over and grab her face to pull her into a triumphant kiss.
This feels like the moment for a triumphant kiss. I’ve been beaming at everyone for so long my cheeks are starting to hurt. I feel so light, like a giant weight dropped off my shoulders in the middle of the game and left me flying.
“What up, Coach?”
I jog over and tickle one of Khadija’s feet to distract me from how close I am to Becca. A few strands of red hair have slipped out of her braid, and they’re now curling around her flushed, freckled face. The whole team is glowing, but Becca is shining. Even Khadija’s cute baby laugh isn’t enough to keep me from stealing glances at her.
“Becca and I were just talking about that goal. What a shot. I think I’ve seen somebody score from a position like that maybe...four times? And that’s since I started playing lacrosse myself.”
“Oh wow, so we’re going back to ancient history,” I joke.
Becca giggles. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her giggle before.
“Hey now.” Coach puts on a stern face. “Just because you’re the star of the game doesn’t mean I can’t order you to do push-ups if you keep talking like that.”
“How many do you want?” I ask as I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet. “I could do laps too. I feel like I could go all day.”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Let’s save some of that energy. We’ve got a long journey to get to our next game.”
Our next game isn’t for two weeks, but it’s all the way in Montreal. We’re in for a twelve hour drive since we have to ration out funding for flights.
The cons of being the only coastal team in the league.
“My wife is giving me some kind of signal about bottles,” Coach announces, “so I better get this baby back to her. Good job again, Hastings. You too, Moore. You’re quite the pair.”
I glance at Becca and see she’s gone stock-still just like me. My pulse has picked up like I’m back in the game, and my throat is so dry all I can do is make a weird squeaking sound in answer. Thankfully, CJ is already walking away and doesn’t hear it. I stare at the back of his red coach t-shirt and then force myself to swallow and turn back to face Becca.
“So, uh, seems like we’re quite the pair.”
I cringe as soon as I say it. I expect her to shoot daggers at me and silently warn me to knock it off, but my jaw drops when all she does is smile—partially because I’m shocked, and partially because she’s just so goddamn beautiful.
“Yeah, we did good out there today. You did good out there. Coach is right. That goal was spectacular.”
“I wouldn’t have made it without that pass from you.”
She laughs. “I wasn’t expecting you to score from there. I was just as shocked as everyone else. You were like the ball whisperer today.”
I gawk at her. She stares at me blankly for a second and then claps her hands over her mouth as I start laughing so hard I lose my breath.
“Did you really just use the phrase ball whisperer?” I choke out after a moment. “Really, Becca?”
“Lacrosse balls!” she insists as she doubles over with laughter too.
“I’ve been called a stick master before. Now I’m the ball whisperer. I’m just working all the equipment.”