“You're here!” I turned in his arms and laced my fingers behind his neck. “I'm so proud of you!”
Derek grinned down at me, his eyes shining happily, before he captured my lips.
Kissing him was dizzying. I loved the way my body shivered, how he woke up the thousand crazy butterflies in my stomach.
“Gosh,” he groaned against my lips, tilting his forehead to mine. “I couldn’t wait to hold you like this, without having to look over my shoulder and wonder if anyone would see us.”
I nuzzled closer to him, and he smiled. “It feels good.”
“I kept looking for you,” he murmured against myhair in a quiet confession. “In the stands. Every time I scored, every time something happened, I looked for you.”
“I was there. Screaming so loud, Nova threatened to kick me out.” I pulled back just enough to see his face. “I'm so proud of you.”
“I couldn't have done it without you.”
“You absolutely could have.”
“No.” His hands framed my face. “Thorn, you're the reason I'm still playing. You're the reason I didn't give up. You're the reason I believed I could do this.”
My throat closed up. “Derek...”
“I love you,” he said, his blue eyes intense and unwavering. “I know it's way too early to say it, but I need you to understand. I love you. Not because you helped me recover. Not because you teach me Pilates. Not because you make me better at soccer. I love you because you're you. Because you understand me. Because when I'm with you, I feel like I can breathe again.”
Tears spilled over. “I love you too. So much. Sometimes it scares me how much.”
“Don't be scared.” His thumb wiped away my tears. “Be here. With me. Right now.”
“I am. I'm here.”
He kissed me slow and deep and full of everything we couldn't say during the game, during the past week of careful distance. His hands slid into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, and I grabbed his hoodie, pulling him closer.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, Derek rested his forehead against mine.
“Dance with me,” he whispered.
“Derek, you just played ninety minutes of soccer. You must be exhausted...”
“Dance with me,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “Please. I want to celebrate with you. Just you. The way we should have been able to celebrate all along.”
How could I say no to that?
I took his hand, leading him to the center of the studio. The song changed to something slow and romantic, all soft guitar and tender lyrics about finding home in someone.
“No technique tonight,” I said, positioning his hands at my waist, my arms around his neck. “Just feel.”
“I can do that.”
We swayed together, barely moving, just existing in the same space. His body was warm and solid against mine, and for the first time in weeks, I felt completely safe.
“Tell me what you were thinking,” I said softly. “When you scored that first goal.”
Derek's hands tightened on my waist. “Honestly? I thought about you. About that night we went stargazing, and you told me I was brave. I heard your voice in my head telling me to do it anyway.”
“And the second goal?”
“That one was pure instinct. But after?” He pulled back to look at me. “After, when everyone was celebrating, all I could think of was that I wanted to share it with you. Not just see you in the stands. I wanted to hold you, kiss you, tell you that we did it. Together.”
“We did it together.” I touched his face, feeling the slight stubble on his jaw. “I know I wasn't on the field...”
