“No.” I hold out a hand, almost knocking her in the knee. “I’m not going to sing about…” I lower my voice, even though we’re the only ones in this part of the stadium—in any of the stands, really. “...underwear while lacing up my spikes.”
“Are you sure?” Her evil grin is way too gleeful. “You’d be sufficiently distracted by the song while breaking this superstition.”
I shake my head like a little kid being asked if he wants a second helping of broccoli. “Nope. Uh-uh. No way.”
“Fine.” Alex gives me a dramatic sigh. “Sing ‘Baby Got Back’ instead.”
“Excuse me?”
She places her index finger along the side of her chin. “If you don’t like Sir Mix-a-Lot, there’s always ‘Rump Shaker,’ ‘Ms. New Booty,’ or ‘Bootylicious.’”
When I simply stare, mouth agape, Alex lifts her palms. “What? I thought for sure you’d be a Destiny’s Child fan. Didn’t you bring akaraoke machine to one of Trevor’s house parties and declare it ‘early 2000s’ night?”
I sit up straight. “My flawless rendition of Britney Spear’s ‘Toxic’ remains unchallenged.”
“Okay, then. Use that theatrical energy to break this superstition today,” she says, her smile twitching at the corners like she’s trying to keep it subdued.
I want to tell her to stop. I want Alex to smile fully, even if it makes my ribs ache.
“What game are you playing?” I ask, leaning too close for my own good.
Alex huddles forward like she’s seconds from sharing state secrets. “One I’ll win.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because I already have.” Alex winking at me does irreparable things to my insides.
“What are you—” My sentence cuts off in a shocked gasp as my hand flies to my chest, my fingertips hitting my tennis necklace.
This time, Alex’s full smile stretches her lips. “Look who’s not nervous anymore.”
I don’t really think when I go to tickle Alex. It just sort of happens, like how you pump the brakes when a car stops short, even when you’re in the passenger seat. Alex lets out a joyful screech whiletrying to bat my hand away.
Unfortunately for her, I’m undeterred. The tickle assault Alex receives is worthy of the record books. I’mruthless.The second Alex saysstop, I’ll comply, but she’s yet to ask me for a ceasefire. Instead, she wriggles in her seat, squealing while trying to fend me off.
“You brought this upon yourself,” I remind her.
“Tenny, stop.” She grips both of my hands tight, breathless from laughter.
I press forward until my lips almost brush her earlobe. “Emotional manipulation is generally frowned upon, Ms. Stevens.”
“But it worked!” Her words are a happy shriek that has me sitting back so I can catch her grin.
I match her smile, my gaze darting from her cheekbones, to the slight crinkle of her eyes, to the single freckle by her right temple. A heavy thud pulses behind my breastbone, but I catch the words just before they flee my lips.
I can’t stop thinking about your smile. It pops into my head first thing when I wake up, and it’s what I see on the backs of my eyelids when I lie down every night. The only thing that edges it out is your laugh. I freaking love your laugh. I want to hear it all the time.
Flipping my wrists, I easily break free of Alex’s hold. She’s here to help me because it’s a condition of our ‘intentionally transactional professional relationship,’ and I need to remember that.
“I think I’m ready.”
Alex nods, relaxing back in her seat while keeping her gaze on me. I take one long breath, and then, with steady hands, I lace my spikes.
“There’s only one thing to do now,” I tell Alex when I’m done.
“Win a baseball game?”
The spring sunshine seems to make Alex’s golden hair glow. My hand flexes as she leans toward me. One of Alex’s perfectly polished camera-ready waves falls over the front of her shoulder, tempting me to wrap it around my finger.
