He grunted and then studied me. “Are you two a thing?” he asked, wearing a frown. “Because it kind of feels like you are.”
My hands shoved deeper into my hoodie pocket. “Nope. Definitely not a thing.”
“I mean, you’re both adults. You can do what you want. It would just make family dinners awkward, you know?” They were just words. He didn’t mean them. If he watched the security footage, I would be dead.
I sighed. “Like I said, not a thing, bro.”
“All right. If you say so.” He turned on his heel. “Well. I’m gonna head. The faster I do this, the faster I get home.” His eyebrows wiggled. Then he turned and strode his stupidly long legs toward the Downward side of the gym. When he reached the leg press, he called, “Why are the pins all over the place?” He bent down and began collecting them.
I snickered. “No idea.”
I sat down at the hack squat machine and popped in a pin, the gym all to myself. I inserted my Air Pods and flipped my playlist up full blast trying to get that sexy, blond spitfire out of my head.
But my brain did the opposite, replaying that intense kiss over and over. Her soft lips, the way her hands slid up into my hair.
Stop it.
I exhaled and forced myself to think about the conversation and pin shenanigans afterward. That was safer. Stickingmy toe in the water but at least I wasn’t diving in head first. Toe dipping never drowned anyone.
“Tink.” I snorted, wondering what Silas had meant about it being cool until it wasn’t. It wasn’t until I was three hundred calories down, according to my watch, that a sick realization slammed into my brain.
Christy’s brother-in-law, Rowan, had called her Tink.
eight
CHRISTY
For at least the fifth time that night, I looked across the high school gym and snickered.
Anna, still glowing from the five kills—five—she’d scored during the JV game, was now sitting in the student section. Right next to Blue Bishop, our uber-talented JV quarterback. And Silas, on the top row, fifty feet away, couldn’t stop glaring at the guy. Lemon kept biting back a smile. I couldn’t tell if she was happy for Anna, laughing at Silas, or a combination of the two.
And I was proud of myself.
I didn’t hate Lemon for stealing my “trailer.” My heart was still a little sad about the loss of what could’ve been. Silas had been my future, at least for a little while. But I could sit across from them in this gym and it wasn’t all-consuming. Even when they were constantly touching—hand-holding, arm around the shoulder, a squeeze of the knee. Most of the time, I forgot they were here.
In truth, it was hard to think about Silas and Lemon while Holden and his cocky, swole self sat right next to me, divertingmy attention every few seconds. That and the fact that my varsity girls were killing it.
Holden chuckled too close to my ear, throwing my heart into a canter. “Sophie was right to pick Silas to be Anna’s ‘dad.’ I’m not ready to deal with a teenage daughter, dating.”
“Poor Blue. I don’t think he even knows that Silas is on the verge of ripping his head off.”
“Pretty sure all he sees is Anna.” It was true. If I’d ever seen a couple with stars in their eyes, it was those two.
I leaned over and whispered, “What’s Silas gonna do when Blue touches her? Like actually holds her hand and stuff?”
“We’ll have to hide the guns,” he hissed back and I could almost swear he was a little breathless being that close to me. But I must’ve imagined it. The girls on his social media posts were the breath-hitching kind. Not me.
The ref blew the whistle, declaring the game back in play.
Holden’s knee bounced next to me, his hands resting stiffly on his thighs. I didn’t know what was up with him tonight, but he was on edge. His back hadn’t touched the seat the entire evening. And his eyes were everywhere. On the game, the people in the stands, and me, all at the same time.
Ming tossed up the serve. My hand shot over, gripping the top of Holden’s. I’d done this same thing every time one of our girls had served tonight. I kept telling myself to stop but I couldn’t. Every time I touched him, he flinched, like he was repulsed. Too bad. I needed something to squeeze in those tense moments.
Ming’s ball came down and she smacked it hard. It sailed over the net but it was too far right. And if Highland’s player had restrained herself it would’ve been declared out, tying the set back up. But she went for it, starting a thirty-second volley that tried to give me a heart attack. When Jade, our middle, slammed a kill down onto the other side as if she’d had enough, I exhaled.Me too, Jade.
That was the match.
The stands cheered and our girls jumped around, hugging one another. Holden and I smiled at each other, relieved that was over. Coaching is not for the faint of heart.
