The tension flows from my muscles like water from freshly melted snow as I turn and take her in. “Hi, Sunshine.” I quirk a brow as I tilt my head at the tension visible on her face. “What’s wrong?”
She waves away my concern. “Just a little headache.” A smile brightens her tired eyes as she takes the empty seat next to me. Her attention swivels around the table as she greets everyone else. “Hey, guys. You all played great tonight.” Her eyes snare mine once again as her grin turns into a beaming smile. “Two goals are pretty impressive.”
Dax scoffs from his seat across the table. “Nah. A hat trick would have been impressive.”
The quick flash of a smile is the only indication of Wyatt’s pride in my performance tonight. “A hat trick would have been nice, but pair two goals with four assists, and you’re on track for Best Playmaker.”
Lila’s brows furrow in confusion as she settles into her seat. “What’s a hat trick? And what’s Best Playmaker?”
Mace wipes salsa off his chin with one hand and reaches for the basket of chips in front of him with the other. “A hat trick is when a single player scores three goals in one game. And Best Playmaker is given to the player with the most assists that season. We’ll turn you into a hockey pro eventually, Sullivan.”
The conversation moves on around us as I lean closer to Lila. “Where are the twins?”
A flash of anxiety zings across her face before she buries it under a neutral expression. She can’t hide the worry from her eyes, though. “I just dropped them off at my grandparents’ house.”
My eyebrows rise. “How do you feel about that?”
Her shrug doesn’t convince me. “I’m dealing with it.”
I open my mouth to respond, but am cut off by our server with a pad and pen in her hand. “Are you guys ready to order?”
A smile blooms on Lila’s face as she turns to greet her coworker. “Hey, Sammy. How’s your shift going?”
I nearly stop breathing when I see my name written across her back. Obviously, I knew it was there. I gave her the jersey, for Pete’s sake. Seeing it, though? That’s an entirely different ball game.
My eyes trace the block letters as my breathing turns shallow. I force my eyes away from my name, only to discover a red bow in her hair.
I need to get out of here before I do something stupid.
Something I can’t take back.
Like kiss the hell out of her.
The legs of my chair squeak against the floor as I rush to stand.
I have to stop looking at her.
My fingers glide along the smooth fabric as I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants. My thoughts feel like a runaway train as I search for an excuse to get out of here. I have to fight not to let out a relieved breath as the tips of my fingers connect with my wallet in my pocket. “I, uh, I forgot my wallet in the car. I’ll be right back.”
My throat constricts to a painful level as I struggle to swallow. My friends share confused glances as an amused smirk blooms on my sister's face.
The other tables become a blur as my legs carry me through the restaurant and out the front door. I’m thankful for the first signs of fall as the cool night air washes over my face.
My fingers dig into my still-damp hair as the chilled air fills my lungs.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I sync my breathing to the numbers as I count to twenty.
One.
She has my name on her back.
Two.
I want to kiss her.
Three.
