I think it should.
I trust Callum’s kiss.
It spoke volumes.
So, Rosalie and Moni can keep their noses out of it.
Eight
I tossthe last ball to Zev, who bags it up. Another school, another fun day. A particularly interesting day, actually. Thanks to little, brown-bobbed songbirdFran.
She’s funny. And cute. But mostly funny.
And while I’m not looking for a partner—I am happy to be on my own, focusing on the game, I do needsomething. At least, that’s what Zev and my other teammates keep saying.
It is a little crazy that she happened to be at the school where I came to volunteer. Zev would call it luck, possibly even fate. I’m not sure I believe in that. I can admit that the woman is attractive. And it was interesting seeing her again. But?—
“So,” says a shrill voice. “You’rethe guy who kissed my best friend.”
I pivot to find the second-grade teacher whose classroom I hung out in earlier today. She must be talking about Fran—I mean, she is the only girl I’ve kissed lately.
Which means, no sense in denying the truth. She knows.
I clear my throat. “Yes, I did.”
“And why was that again?” She sets both hands on her hips. “I told her she should have kneed you in the groin. But she’s nicer than me.”
Yikes. Thank goodness.
Her eyes narrow. “And a whole lot crazier.”
Wait.Crazy?
Crap. Did I kiss an actual insane woman? Am I going to start getting freakish fan mail? Tracked at games? Followed home at night? I cough—on my own stupidity. “When you say crazy, you mean funny, right?” The woman was funny. I could see that. But crazy? “How crazy is crazy?”
She puffs out her cheeks and blows a raspberry. Miss Conrad shakes her head at me as if I should already know this answer. But I’m still waiting for her to tell me how much trouble Lucca Cruz has gotten me into.
“Crazy as in she’s adorable, wonderful, the sweetest in all the world. But when it comes to ideas about love, she’s a little cuckoo.”
“Cuckoo?” My brows knit. That doesn’t make me feel any better than crazy. What have I done?
“Yes, cuckoo, and you’ve officially given her a”—her hands raise on either side of her head, and she holds her fingers up in air quotes—“romcom moment. Do you have any idea what that means?”
Sweat pools at the back of my neck. “I really don’t.” But it sounds serious when she says it like that. It sounds like I’ve gotten myself into a lot of trouble.
Miss Conrad crosses her arms over her chest, still killing me with that very irate glare. “Yeah, well, me neither. None of her stunts have ever panned out before, and then you came along.”
Have I seriously buried myself in the stupidest way possible?
“Are you saying I need… protection?”
Her brows raise with my question. “That depends, Mr. Serendipity on Second Street. What kind?”
Mr. who? I do not find her funny. “From Fran? Do I need a bodyguard? Is she going to try something?”
Miss Conrad exhales, her chest deflating with the breath. “No. Dummy. You do not need protection. Fran is, in fact, the sweetest.”
My beating heart pauses before returning to its regular rhythm. “Miss Conrad.” I puff out a breath through my nose. She’s got me riled and utterly confused. “I’m not sure what you’re warning me of.”
