I step closer. “You heard me.”
He steps in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. I don’t know why I’m pushing him like this. Yeah, him acting like a simple correction is the worst part of his day is dramatic, but I know I’m making it worse.
His eyes pin me where I stand. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Even though it feels like my feet can’t move, my mouth has no problem. “Poor Lane. Being on the team must be so hard.”
Lane’s lips mash together, his head tilting, and I swear there’s the slightest hint of a grin. “You can’t stop thinking about it, can you?”
“Thinking about what?” I scoff.
“Me. Hard.”
That lands. I don’t flinch but I put a finger in his chest. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Quick, Lane grabs my finger, holding it between us. The air crackles and sparks, energy pulling tight around us.
His breathing changes. Slow. Deep.
“You’re the know-it-all. You tell me.”
The words aren’t defensive. It’s honest. Awkwardly honest for the heaviness between us.
For a second, neither of us moves. We’re standing in the middle of an empty press room, the air between us humming, everything unsaid pressing in.
We’re closer than we should be. I know that. But I can’t help it.
His voice drops. “Cora.”
My pulse jumps as the door opens behind him.
“Hey. There you are.”
Coach’s voice.My dad.
We jump apart like we’ve been caught doing something worse than arguing.
Lane turns first, shoulders squaring. “Yeah, Coach?”
"Pictures?” my dad asks, glancing between us before gesturing outside the door he’s holding open. His eyes linger just long enough to make my stomach twist. “Can’t get out of it that easily.”
“I was just—” Lane starts.
“I promise, this is the last part,” Coach interrupts, clapping him once on the shoulder and offering him a wink.
Lane nods, mutters something polite, and falls into step behind my dad. Just before they turn the corner, he looks back at me—long enough that my pulse stutters, long enough to feel like we’re still in the middle of something we didn’t finish.
I’m left standing there with my heart racing, knowing two things with absolute certainty.
Correcting that stat was the right call.
And wanting him like this is the wrong one.
Chapter 27
LANE
Fuckthisweek.Iwas hoping that once I got to play a game, wore an Otters jersey, this would stop being so hard. I’m not one to fall to public opinion when it comes to my reputation, but it stings to hear random people talk about my coach like he’s a dumbass for adding me in the off season.
