I don’t want to look.
I really don’t.
But instinct is a difficult habit to break.
My eyes flick sideways for half a second.
And that’s when I see she’s already winding up her foot.
I move at the same time.
She tries to knock the ball past me again but she’s misjudged where it’s stopped, her foot catching slightly on the top of it instead of the side.
That hesitation is all I need.
I step forward and catch her around the waist before she can recover, lifting her clean off the ground as she lets out a startled laugh.
“Hey!”
“No cheating,” I remind her.
“I waved!”
“You lied.”
“I distracted.”
“You’re impossible.”
She’s laughing again now, hands automatically gripping my shoulders as I spin her once before setting her down.
Neither of us moves straight away.
We’re both still smiling.
Breathing a little harder than we probably should be.
Her hands are still on me.
My hands are still on her.
And suddenly I’m very aware of that fact.
Her eyes lift to mine.
And for a second the joking disappears completely.
I notice the tiny things. The way her breath catches slightly. The way she doesn’t step back. The way she looks like she might say something and then doesn’t.
I should let go.
I don’t.
She doesn’t move either.
My thumb shifts slightly against her side without me thinking about it. Just enough to steady her. Just enough to feel the warmth of her through her coat.
I lean forward slightly.
