They go to my nose first, then my lips, followed by my throat.
I swallow and he watches it.
I take a deep breath and he watches that too, studying my soccer uniform issued by the school. He studies my white t-shirt, my mustard-colored shorts. My knee-high socks and finally my soccer cleats.
He stares at them a beat like he did the other night when he gave me that hint, before lifting his eyes back up to my face and murmuring, “We are.”
“So, why aren’t we?” I ask, injecting all the fire in my tone even as my heart pounds under his thorough perusal.
From the corners of my eyes I see Coach TJ trying to say something, probably to set me straight, but Arrow beats her when he drawls, “Because we were waiting for everyone to arrive.”
Okay, so I guess we were a little late arriving on the field.
I should probably acknowledge that. Especially after what he said the other night about being punctual.
But I don’t.
Instead, I raise my chin. “Well, we’re here now. All of us.”
He runs his eyes – I swear, they’ve become dark,darkerthan they were a second ago – down my body once again and I have to fist my fingers.
“So I can see,” he says finally after he’s done studying me for a second time.
And for some reason I feel like…
I feel as if he was doing all this flirting on purpose. To provoke me and make me march up to him like I did in the bar the other night.
But that’s stupid, right?
Why would he provokemeof all people?
So I try to be sensible, sort of, and ask, “Can we play now?” But for some reason, I can’t stop myself from adding, “I thought punctuality was one of the cardinal rules around here.”
And then, he does something that I swear I’veneverseen him do in the past eight years that I’ve known him. Not to the cameras, not to Sarah, not to that girl even.
He licks his lips.
It’s not even a full lick or an obvious lick or anything. It’s simply a slight peek of his tongue followed by a little swipe of his lower lip.
It makes him look so… wicked, so provocative.
So opposite of how I’ve known him that I have to actually do what he did. I have toactuallylick my own lips like a moron to believe that it happened.
“Yeah, it is,” he says, nodding slowly, his arms still folded across his chest. “Although I had no idea you cared about them. The rules.”
I shift on my feet, trying not to think about his lip-licking. “I do.”
“You do, huh?”
“Very much.”
“Well then, this place is having a tremendous effect on you. Because I can’t seem to remember a time when you were so enamored by them.” He pauses and adds, somehow saying the words in italics, “The rules.”
Something about that makes me narrow my eyes at him. “That’s because you never paid me any attention before. Since you’ve always been so busy with soccer and other things.”
I don’t know why I said that. There’s no possible explanation for it, for why I’d goad him further like this.
But now I have and he takes the bait.
