Page 51 of Catch and Cradle

“Like I said,” I interrupt, “window of apology is closed. We’re done here, Ethan.”

His eyebrows furrow into a glare, and his shoulders tense.

“Fine, whatever. This is why we broke up in the first place.”

He turns and heads back for the bleachers. I wait for the sting of his words to hit, but instead, they just bounce right off me. I barely even hear them. I turn around to face Becca after he’s taken a couple steps, and the two of us start beaming as soon as we lock eyes.

“Holy shit, Hastings!” she shouts. “You’re a boss.”

I shrug. “I have my moments.”

“You obliterated him! That was iconic.”

I’m smiling so wide my cheeks are starting to hurt. “It helped to have you here.”

Something flickers in her eyes, so fast I only just manage to catch it. “Oh, don’t even. That was all you. You’re amazing.”

The fire in me climbs even higher, and before I can decide if it’s a good idea or not, I throw my arms around her neck just like I’ve been aching to do since the game ended. I know to anyone else, we’ll just look like excited teammates hugging, but as soon as I’m holding her, all my senses go into overdrive.

I can smell something flowery in her hair mixed with the salty tang of sweat on her neck. Her body is warm against me, her curves pressed to my chest, rising and falling in time with mine as our breathing gets faster and faster. For a few seconds, that’s the only part of her that moves. She’s gone completely still, and I’m about to pull away thinking she doesn’t want the hug when her arms wrap around my waist.

I really am burning for her. Everything is heat and hunger and the bright red of her hair.

I can’t pretend we’re friends anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t want this. She has to know. She has to want it too, and right now, I can’t see any reason to stop. I played one of the best matches of my life today, and these feelings for her just made me work harder, run faster, be better. I’m better with her. What about this could possibly be wrong?

I’m about to pull back enough to look at her face, to see if she’s standing on the same ledge I feel myself edging closer and closer to, when the sound of someone calling my name makes me whip my head around.

Becca’s arms drop to her sides. I let mine fall from around her neck.

“Hope Elizabeth Hastings!” Jane is sprinting toward us, Iz and Paulina trotting along behind her. “Please tell me I just saw you serve it to Ethan like the rotten leftovers he deserves.”

The laugh that bursts out of me is slightly manic. I’m still trying to process the hug.

“What does that even mean?” I ask.

“It means you’re a hero!”

She slams into me at full speed and crushes me in a hug of her own. I grin at Becca from over her shoulder, still a little dazed, and feel a few sparks crackle in my stomach when she smiles back.

Something is happening, something I couldn’t stop if I tried.

I don’t want to stop it, and I don’t want to slow it down anymore.

“Party toniiiiiight!” Iz shouts as they crash into me and Jane and worm their way into the hug. “It’s celebration shorts time.”

12

Hope

Dry season never stops the lacrosse team from having a good time. Even fueled by nothing but the free Italian sodas Mario gives us to celebrate our win, we still manage to be the loudest group in his bar. He makes fun of us for eating more than the football boys as the staff keeps bringing us pizza after pizza.

I reach for what’s got to be at least my fourth slice as I strain to hear the story Paulina is telling about one of her herbs. All the thumping music, clinking glasses, and rowdy conversations make it hard to hear anything quieter than a shout. The place is packed to the rafters tonight, and the team is spread out over a few different tables.

Becca and her roommates are sitting with me and mine. She’s directly across from me, and we keep locking eyes, smiling and looking away, then locking eyes again.

It’s very gay.

So gay, in fact, that I should be worried about our friends noticing, but I’m not. I don’t have room to worry. I’m full of lemon-flavoured Italian soda and an unshakeable belief that tonight is my night.