Page 49 of Curveballs & Kisses


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“Won’t she notice?”

“Probably. Don’t care.” I serve the risotto, sliding a bowl in front of her. “Now, prepare to be amazed by my culinary skills.”

She takes a bite, and her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“This is actually good.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am surprised. Athletes can’t usually—” She stops, catching herself. “Sorry. Stereotyping.”

“It’s fine. Most athletes can’t cook. I’m exceptional.”

“And humble.”

“That too.”

She laughs, taking another bite. The earlier tension has dissipated almost completely. We’re back to easy, comfortable, the way it’s supposed to be.

But part of me knows this won’t be the last time Lena tries something. She doesn’t give up easily. Never has. And now that she knows I’ve moved on, she’ll push harder.

I glance at Ava, who’s telling me some story about a client who wanted a tattoo of their pet iguana. She’s animated, hands gesturing, completely present. Beautiful, unguarded, and entirely mine in this moment.

Whatever Lena throws at us next, we’ll handle it.

Together.

Because casual or not, rules or not, I’m in this now.

Fully and completely.

And I’m not letting go.

Chapter Ten

Ava

Reece and I are sprawled on his couch after dinner, my feet in his lap, his hands absently massaging my arches. We’ve been here for two hours, talking about everything and nothing. The Lena drama from earlier feels like days ago.instead of minutes.

“Tell me about the design.”

“What design?” I ask, though I know exactly what he means.

“The one you’re going to tattoo on me.”

“I never agreed to tattoo you.”

“You will.” He presses his thumb into my heel, and I bite back a moan. “You’ve been thinking about it. I can tell.”

“Cocky.”

“Observant.” He shifts my feet, turning to face me fully. “Come on. You’ve had weeks to consider it. What would you give me?”

I have been thinking about it, probably more than I should. Late at night when I can’t sleep, I sketch designs in my head. Ideas that would suit him. Symbols with meaning he’d understand.

“Why does it matter?” I ask. “You could go to any artist in the city. Better artists. More experienced.”