“I do,” she admits softly. She licks her bottom lip and my eyes drop to her mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss her pillowy soft lips. To taste them. “That’s why I’m going to apply for the coaching position at Santa Isabel.”
I force my gaze back to hers, relief flooding my chest. “I was hoping you would bring that up.”
“Thanks for passing along the information.”
“I meant it when I said I’d help you, Carla.”
She nods, her expression thoughtful. “Do you think I have a real shot for the job? It feels like…I don’t know, am I posturing? Like, here I am, about to teach girls how to play when I’m not even on a team?”
I shake my head, chuckling. “Honestly? You’re overqualified for the position. Stop selling yourself short. Those girls will be lucky to have you.”
She wrinkles her nose.
“Trust me, Carla, girls need a coach like you. Someone with your skills and experience, but also someone who can relate to them. Besides, isn’t empowering girls in sports your thing?”
“Yes. It is.”
“Apply for the position. You’ll have it by the end of the week.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I’ll send in my CV tomorrow.” We turn a corner and she looks up at me, bumping her shoulder against my arm. “Thank you. Again. Every time we’re together lately, I make a fool of myself.”
“Nah.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“You can always be yourself around me. I like getting to know the real you. Just don’t cut me off at the knees because I like cats or dip my fries in mayonnaise instead of ketchup.”
Her mouth drops open in horror.
“Carla!”
She snickers. “Kidding. I’d never cut you off, DiBlanco.”
“Good.”
“But will I get to know the real you?” she questions, stopping in front of a light blue building.
I stare at her, noting the curiosity and hope flickering in the cool pools of her eyes. In many ways, we’re similar. We’re affable and easy to talk to. We can engage strangers and make them feel like friends. But when it comes to our true feelings, we’re closed off, concealing our truths under layers of bright smiles and quips. Carla’s comebacks just tend to be more sarcastic and off-the-cuff than mine.
The air tightens around us, the quiet of the night seeping through my skin. Strands of her hair frame her face. Her eyes never waver from mine. Her lips are pursed, as if in thought.
Reaching up, I brush my fingertips across her cheek. Her eyes flutter closed for a heartbeat as she leans, imperceptibly so, into my touch.
“Hope so, cucciola.” The words come out huskier than I intended but fuck if she isn’t affecting me. On levels I don’t want to admit. In ways I shouldn’t fucking feel. Not with her.
Slowly, she lifts onto her toes. Her hands hook over my shoulders and she uses my height for leverage as she presses a kiss to each of my cheeks. But the movement is intentional and sends a rush of heat through my blood. “I’m here for you too, Luca.” She lingers, her lips practically ghosting mine. “I always have been.” She drops back to her feet and gives me a smile that could light up the night sky. “Buenas noches.”
“Buona notte.” I wait as she slips into her apartment building.
Right before she enters the elevator to ride up to her flat, she turns and gives me a little wave.
And the simple sweetness of it slams into me.
My phone beeps with an incoming message.
Ale
Thanks for making sure Carla got home safe.
