A sparkling idea crystallizes.
“I can’t do it,” Liam says.
“You can, Liam.”
“I’m going to hurt you.”
“I’m literally wearing a helmet, a chest guard,andkneepads.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t bruise,” he says. “And your arms and upper thighs are completely exposed.”
“What are you, a cranky youth pastor? Have a little faith in me.”
“Bristol, I’m half a beer deep. I don’t have faith inme.”
Watching him through the grate of this helmet is somewhat comical. I’m sure I look ridiculous, and itisa little big for my head, but I’m set on this.
I fiddle with the pocket radar Liam keeps in his own bag, turning it on and propping it on the bench. He trails behind me, repositioning it to his liking, even as he continues to proclaim he won’t throw me a proper pitch.
I go back to home plate and squat. “Like this?”
He grins, tossing the ball into his glove on repeat. “Put the knee down on the opposite side of your catching hand.” I do as told. “That’s how you keep your stability right before you catch the ball.”
“Noted.” I pop the knee back up. “I’m ready. And if that thing isn’t going ninety miles per hour, I’ll know you’re cheating.”
“Paige.”
“Liam.”
“What if we did literally anything else?” he asks. “We could go find Evan and ask for a wine recommendation. We could sneak into an accounting night class.”
“I’m asking you to throw me one pitch.”
“That’s not the proper terminology, which tells me you aren’t seasoned enough for this.”
“Next you’ll demand I name five Def Leppard songs.” I rip off the helmet, fling off my glove. Liam’s face is greedy as I approach him. He hooks a finger into the side of my chest guard, pushing his lips together in amusement. “Please?” I ask, dropping my voice, batting my eyelashes.
I don’t know why I want this so much. I just do. I want to watch his body work, see the ball fly at me, try to catch it.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “What’ll you give me if I do?”
My body incinerates. “Would you settle for one kiss, without the promise of another?”
“Settle?” He tuts, eyes falling to my lips, his face hungry. “Paige, that’s definitely a privilege.”
Already, I find my head tipping up, my body leaning in. The more time I spend with Liam, the less it makes any sense at all why Maisy’s singular date with him a year and a half ago should be such a holdout for me.
Or even forher, given how thoroughly she’s moved on since Liam.
Maybe she just wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt me?
What’s the harm in one kiss?
I pull away and say “Deal” before reaching for the helmet. Liam grins, helping me adjust it, his fingers in the grates. He walks away, and I slide my glove back onto my hand.
From the pitcher’s mound, he instructs me to lift the glove higher. Then he rolls out his neck. Bends his knee. Draws back his hand.
Falters.
