Page 60 of Playing for Keeps

Then it was gone, replaced with a small, soft smile.

My hand found hers on the railing before I had even thought about it. Her fingers curled around mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. We stood there for a few seconds, our hands intertwined, until all I could feel was her skin against mine.

My breath stuttered. Subtle, but enough to embarrass the hell out of me.

I brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My knuckles grazed her cheek, lingering a second longer than they should have. She didn’t move away. She looked up, breath unsteady. “This feels… nice,” she whispered, almost surprised by it.

“Emma,” I said, rougher than I meant to.

Her breath caught.

I leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to stop me. But as soon as my lips touched hers, she kissed me back. Soft at first, tentative, then deeper, hungrier, like she’d been holding it back as long as I had. She opened her mouth and brushed her tongue against mine. For a moment, everything else – the glow of the tanks, the sound of the water, the whole damn city outside – disappeared. And something in me settled, like my whole damn chest exhaled at once just from touching her.

I held her jaw in my hand and stroked her cheek with my thumb. My other hand slid to the small of her back, bringing her closer until there was no space between us. She leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in even closer, like she needed the kiss as much as I did.

She made a small sound against my mouth – half gasp, half laugh – and I eased her gently into the quiet corner near the tank, the glow from the glass flickering across her skin. I drew back just enough to catch my breath, our foreheads touching and our breaths uneven. For a second I just looked at her – flushed, breathless, perfect – and my heart raced. Then I kissed her again, slower this time, just to feel the shape of her mouth against mine. Her fingers tightened at the back of my neck, keeping me there like she wasn’t letting me go – fuck, as if I’d ever want to be anywhere but right here with her.

When we stopped kissing, we just stayed there, close enough to feel each other breathe.

“Emma…” I started, voice low.

She swallowed, her eyes bright, as if she didn’t know what to say.

I planted a soft kiss on her temple before forcing myself to give her some space, even though every part of me hated the distance.

“You have no idea how much I want more nights like this,” I whispered.

Her smile was small but steady. “Then keep asking.”

31

EMMA

The pile of essays sat ominously in the corner of my desk, as if daring me to tackle them. I had in fact already battled through seven that morning, my red pen bleeding all over the margins like it was trying out for a crime scene. But the one in front of me… God help me. I rubbed my temples, while staring at the page as if it might suddenly make sense.

“Why are you hiding in here?”

I looked up. Simon stood in the doorway with his tie loose and disbelief on his face.

“Marking,” I said, waving at the carnage on my desk. “And this one is a disaster. The ideas are fine, but the sentences… Simon. They’re a mess. At first I thought that maybe English wasn’t his first language, but no, it is. And it’s appalling. I feel like I’ve aged five years since this morning.”

He walked in and looked down at the essay as if it might bite him. “Wow. You’ve managed to combine teaching with self-punishment. That’s a rare talent.”

I leaned back and snorted. “I keep telling myself I’m shaping the next generation of literature. And then I read this.”

“Well,” Simon said as he sat down in the chair across from me, “not everyone’s destined to be Woolf or Atwood. Some will always just be… Kevin from second year.”

That made me laugh, which helped my shoulders relax. He always knew how to cut through my irritation.

“I know I should be less harsh,” I said, fiddling with my pen, “but this one’s brutal. Every sentence feels like it’s out to get me.”

“Pour yourself a large gin when you’re done. Or better yet, make Finn read it out loud in his hockey voice. It might even sound exciting then.”

The mention of Max’s nickname stirred something inside me, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “I had my first date with him.”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”

“It was… wonderful,” I admitted, letting out a sigh as if the word itself was too heavy. “Dinner, then the aquarium. It was fun and romantic. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.”