The bench taunts that she’s going to run inside any second and let the heavy door slam behind her. Wide, scared eyes stare back at me, and my smile drops. I told her too much about how I feel about her—entirely too soon. Amateur move.
I pull my hand from my pocket and take a step closer. How do I soothe her nerves?
“Thanks, well, good chat, good game, byeee!” She dashes to the door to badge in and fixates on the pad on the wall, practically begging it to beep and unlock the door. She waves her ID in front, moving too much for it to register.
I shake my head, soaking in the extra five seconds with her.
Even as she tilts forward, waiting so impatiently to escape my presence, her gorgeous brown hair falls around her shoulders, catching the light of the building. She’s biting her lip again. Those perfect hips sway as she moves her weight from leg to leg. I wish I could wrap an arm around her back and hold her hand to sway with her right there,no music required.
There the door goes, and she disappears through it.
A beautiful girl who doesn’t like being beautiful. She’s fascinating. And funny and real and kind and brilliant. She loves Jesus so authentically, so wholly. I’m trying to play it cool, take it slow, be patient as she comes around to the idea of dating me. To think just three days ago I almost blew it.
Thank you for a second chance. Make me like you, Jesus.
“What are you doing,Tiguere?” Mia’s voice.
I resist the urge to snap my head around. Caught staring at the door like an idiot.
“Oh, hey.” My best imitation of nonchalance. “See you two tomorrow.” I start across the field.
Sophie starts singing “You Got It Bad.”
Touché.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Plastic trays in hand,my girls and I sit down to dinner on Friday. This spaghetti isn’t bad, but Mom’s is better. The pull home is strong, even though I love it here. I’m counting down the days until fall break. Sophie launches into a monologue about G1’s future flag football practices, undeterred by Saga’s dull roar. She played club volleyball in high school, so it makes sense she’s ready for some competition again. Across the room, our boys materialize in the cafeteria line, and a pack of A2-ers makes a ruckus at their table, standing to bro out in the cutest group hug.
“I asked Zoe what she thought about getting one of the Flooders to coach us this year,” Sophie says. “She loved the idea. So I talked Austin into taking the job.”
My head snaps up.Oh, did you?
“You know he played varsity running back in high school. His team won State. In Texas, no less. And the Flooders have won nearly all their games since he started playing quarterback.”
She’s so cute going on about Austin, though she’s never admitted her obvious thing for him. Not that I deserve the truth—especially in this department.
“We will have such”—her speech slows—“a leg up …”
I turn to follow her darting gaze. Another group of Flooders just walked into Saga. Just Leo and some other freshmen. Who is she looking at? She glances down the table and back at the door.
“… on the other …”
I edge forward and interrupt in a whisper. “Which one?”
Sophie jumps. Her eyes drill into mine. “It doesn’t matter. He blows me off when I try to talk to him. Not everyone can be Perfect Little Kit.”
I flinch.
What do I do? Please, not a repeat.
Ayumi gapes.
“Hey!” Mia says. “What is your deal?”
Sophie stands. “Whatever. I’ll see you guys later.”
Mia shakes her head. “No idea. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
