Page 50 of Catch and Cradle
“I mean...” She pauses to suck in a breath. “I could have said you were really great at penetrating the crease.”
I snort and clutch my stomach, but as cringey as it is, it still turns me on to hear her joke about the crease—AKA the half moon-shaped line that marks the no-go zone around the goalpost. I can see her cheeks getting a bit red, and she avoids my eyes as our laughter dies down.
Turns out the word penetrate can be sexy if you’re desperate enough.
“Becca...” I push my luck and take a step closer. I still feel invincible, and if there was ever a moment to ask her if she wants to hang out again—on purpose and for a long time, not just as a quick post-practice hang out or coffee run—this would be it. “Do you—”
“Hey, look! It’s the stars of the show.”
I freeze as the bottom of my stomach drops and a shard of icy dread shoots up my spine. The reaction is instant. I’ve been braced for this moment all semester, and it’s finally here. I don’t even need to turn around to be sure it’s him.
I should have expected this. His best friend is dating one of my teammates. He hangs out around the jock crowd just like me and all my friends. I thought he’d have the decency to stay away from my games this season, but I guess I gave him too much credit.
“Hope! Hey. Was hoping I’d catch you.”
I can’t move, but it turns out I don’t need to. Ethan strolls up from behind and comes to stand in front of me and Becca. From the corner of my eye, I see her cross her arms over her chest and plant her feet in a wide stance a couple inches ahead of me. I’d probably feel grateful, if I could feel anything at all.
Instead, I just stand there with my mouth hanging open like a gaping fish in the harbour as I take the sight of him in. He hasn’t changed. I don’t know why I thought a single summer would make a difference, but I realize now that part of my brain was expecting him to be taller and broader and just more after everything that happened. In my memories of the last time I stood face to face with him, it felt like he was looming over me, like I was this tiny little mouse crouched under his shadow.
As I look at him now, the opposite seems true. He looks small. Unexceptional. Desperate even, as he stands there shifting his weight from foot to foot and running his hand through his sandy blond hair in an effort to look casual. It’s pathetic, really, that he thinks I’d want to talk to him at all.
I find my voice.
“What do you want, Ethan?”
“Uh...” He drops his hand to his side. “Just to, like, say hi.”
I cross my arms over my chest and take a step past Becca until Ethan and I are only a few inches apart.
“Hi,” I say, the word sharp and short.
The adrenaline of the game is still pumping through my veins. I’m not going to shrink. I’m not going to let anyone make me shrink ever again. I spent the whole summer in a spiral over one conversation with this guy. I’m not going to let him take my year. I’m not going to let dyslexia take my year. It’s my year, and I’m going to live it.
No ragrets.
“Are we done here?” I ask when he just stands there blinking at me instead of coming up with a reply.
“I—I mean, I just thought maybe we could...um...we...”
“There is no we, Ethan.” I move even closer. “We aren’t going to get a drink or have a talk or whatever it is you came over here to ask. Your window for apology closed a long time ago. I texted you three times this summer to ask if we could talk, and you only even replied to one of them. I didn’t owe you that, and I don’t owe you anything now. You disrespected me in front of everyone I care about at this school. You broke my trust and made a very private conversation an extremely public one. It wasn’t me who didn’t take our relationship seriously. It was you. You bit off more than you could chew and then made me the problem, but I am not going to make myself less for you or anybody. Ever.”
My heart is pounding so loud in my ears it’s hard to hear the chatting and laughing of all the people milling around on the field, but my voice is clear and even. The post-match celebration continues around us, everyone but Becca oblivious to the showdown.
I glance back at her out of the corner of my eye and see her looking between Ethan and I with a barely contained grin on her face.
She looks proud, and something in my chest roars to life at the sight. I want to spin around and throw my arms around her neck. I want to tackle her to the ground and kiss her right here on the field. Everything in me is burning—burning with a fire that sparked and flared into an inferno as soon as I scored that goal. I followed it through the air with my eyes and felt everything else get singed away.
There’s nothing left but power. I feel unstoppable, like I could have anything I want.
What I want is Becca.
I don’t know what’s going to happen today. My whole body is thrumming with the certainty that something will, but first I need to deal with this dude in front of me.
“I think we’re done here,” I say.
Ethan stands there opening and closing his mouth a few times.
“Hope, I came over here to ask if we could talk,” he finally gets out. “I want a chance to say I’m sorry. I really fucked up, and I—”