“Live a little, Cap.”
The thing is, I’m sure Rowan thinks this is the perfect solution. And maybe it would be for him. But not for me.
“I appreciate you trying to help, but I’m not in the mood to socialize tonight.”
“Don’t say no yet. Think about it. I’ll ask again after practice.”
I nod, already knowing my answer will be the same then.
Rowan moves ahead of me when we enter the lunchroom, heading to our usual table. I pause, gaze going straight to where Lacey sits. I can’t help but want to find her, even if I’m not ready to see her.
She’s sitting with her profile to me, and her shoulders shake with laughter at something Claire says. My gut tightens and I turn, walking away from the cafeteria.
I go to the gym instead. Dad is in his office when I pass through the locker room. He looks up from his laptop and arches a brow.
“I’m going to get in some extra practice,” I say without stopping to offer more of an explanation. It’s not exactly out of character for me to get in additional workouts, though I rarely skip lunch.
After I’ve changed into shorts and a T-shirt, I grab a ball and head outside to the soccer field. The burn of my muscles and the chill of the air helps me forget, at least temporarily, about everything else.
I love a lot of things about playing soccer, but the ability to tune out everything else has served me well in tough times. I move up and down the field practicing my drag and step over, then switch to fake cutbacks. It feels good to push away all the noise and just focus on this one thing I can control. I like that about soccer too: it’s a demanding sport and you can spend an infinite amount of time working to get better—always striving for more. I like losing myself in themore.
When the bell rings, I’m shocked that so much time has passed. Though I’m breathless and sweaty. I’m wiping my forehead with the back of my hand when I spot someone else walking out to the field.
My feet falter.
Lacey.
I can’t read her expression, but she looks stunning. Her long brown hair is down, and the confident way she struts toward me has her hair whipping around her head like someone’s aimed a fan from the perfect angle. My chest feels funny, and my mouth goes dry.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask as she comes to a stop in front of me. Her brown eyes are lit up with some fiery emotion. Anger? Possibly, though she doesn’t look mad exactly.
“Looking for you, dummy.”
I open my mouth to reply, but wait, did she just call me a dummy? Fair, I guess, but ouch.
“I’m sorry about Saturday night.” I go straight for the apology. This is all my fault. I take full responsibility.
Did I say she didn’t look mad? Because she does now.
“You’re sorry?”
Am I not supposed to be sorry? I shift my weight around while I think how to respond. She ran off mid–make out, so I obviously did something wrong.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asks.
I already told her I’d been thinking about it for a while, so I can’t exactly lie and say it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.
“I wanted to.”
“You wanted to,” she parrots back.
“Yeah, but listen, I know I should have talked to you about it first. If I made you uncomfortable or took advantage in any way, I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends.” I hold out a hand for her to shake. Instantly it feels like the wrong move, but I keep it there anyway. A truce.
“Oh my god, stop talking.” She steps forward and before I know what’s happening, her right hand reaches up and pulls my head down to hers, and then she’s kissing me.
I have about a million questions running through my mind, but I’m smart enough not to ask any of them right now.
My arms circle her waist, and I pull her in closer so I can kiss her better. Lacey’s fingers slide into my hair. Just like Saturday night’s kiss, this one is rough and fumbling. Our mouths move, pressing hard into each other, tongues tangling like we’re fighting for control.
