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“We’ll, uh, be in the car,” Emma says, basically dragging a shocked Anne out the door. After a few seconds, Cressida unfreezes and follows them outside.
“One second,” I tell Beck, then pass him.
My dad and Sandra are standing just past the steps. I paste a smile on my face as I approach them.
“Good morning!” Sandra says cheerily.
“Morning,” I reply.
“Looks like a busy one,” my dad says.
Jenny is here, her car loitering along the curb next to my dad’s. Emma, Cressida, and Anne are cramming themselves inside. We always squeeze in more than the number of seatbelts for the short trip.
“Yeah. I’ve got practice, so…”
“Right, of course. You mentioned it last night.”
I nod.
“Well, enjoy practice and we’ll talk soon, okay?”
I nod again. “Okay.”
“Hopefully we’ll have the chance to come up again before the end of the season.”
“You don’t have to do that, Dad. It’s a really long trip.”
“I want to,” my dad tells me. He glances at Sandra, who smiles encouragingly. “We want to.”
I swallow hard, then clear my throat. “Okay. Just let me know which game, and I’ll get you tickets.”
“Sounds good.” He steps forward and gives me a hug. That, I’m expecting. The whispered “I love you, sweetheart,” I’m not. If he’s said that to me before, it faded with memories of my mom.
I’m not ready to say it back, but I squeeze him a little tighter. I hug Sandra too, and then they’re leaving, heading for the car parked behind Jenny’s.
I suck in a deep breath, then walk over to the driver’s side window. “Go ahead,” I tell Jenny. “I’ll meet you guys there.”
She looks surprised. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I avoid the stares from my housemates in the backseat, then head back toward the house.
Beck has moved into the living room. He’s standing by the couch, studying the plates littered with brownie crumbs and the glasses that still smell like smoky tequila. His gaze swings to me as I enter the room, and his presence hits me all over again. It still doesn’t feel real that he’s here. That he dropped everything and flew to see me—again. I’m flattered. I’m also anxious, registering what that means. He takes soccer as seriously as I do. Yet he came all this way—while in season—to talk to me. I’m not the only one strongly affected by this thing between us, like I’d selfishly assumed. Him telling me I matter to him was a lot to take in. Him showing it by coming to Lancaster is even more shocking.
I’m a little better with actions than with words. So instead of saying anything, I walk right up to Beck and kiss him. I try to pour everything I’m feeling into it. Everything I haven’t found the words to say to him.
It takes him a few seconds to react. Then he’s kissing me back, and I rapidly lose track of…everything. I didn’t forget what this heat between us was like, but my memories don’t compare to the real thing. To his smell and the softness of his warm lips pressed against mine. Kissing him makes his presence feel even more real.
“Was it me you missed, or this?” he asks when we finally separate, his hands roaming my back and tangling in the end of my ponytail.
I think he’s teasing, but we haven’t gotten to that easy place yet, so I’m not sure. I don’t miss the pointed reference to the phone call that was our last conversation.
“Can it be both?” I reply, smirking. “I haven’t gotten laid in a while.”
I haven’t gotten laid since him.
“Been a while for me too,” Beck tells me.
Hopefully as long as I’ve been gone, but I don’t ask for those details. “I’m really late for practice. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, and then we can talk.”
