“Well you’re something because whatever spell you cast is going to have him winning this race, Witchy the Pooh.”
Under normal circumstances, I would’ve continued glaring at her, but there’s an electric pulse of excitement in my veins and my heart has swollen to the point of bursting. So when I smile and roll my eyes, she blinks at me in shock for a second before grinning back, her shoulder pressed against mine as we crane our necks to watch Remy round the bend for the fourth and final time.
I have tunnel vision and it’s solely focused on Remy’s lengthening strides.
One guy hanging off his right speeds up.
Andrea grasps my wrist.
Remy’s arms pump faster.
The bastard keeps pace.
Come on, baby.
“You got this, Rem!” Andrea shouts.
It’s too close. They have less than five feet.
A collective gasp—
Chants become excited cheers and stomps shaking the stands as Remy pulls ahead over the finish line. Andrea throws her arms around my neck, bouncing and shrieking.
“Holy shit, holy shit!” She laughs. “He beat their top runner!”
My entire face splits into the biggest fucking smile. Pride swells in my chest. Before I know it, Andrea is dragging me through a maze of excited parents and sweaty athletes toward a ray of pure sunlight.
Hazel eyes find mine in the crowd and everything else falls away.
But it comes crashing back when Andrea releases me to pounce on him, babbling nonsense. He catches her with a laugh that both warms and bruises my heart.
Because I wishmyarms were wrapped around his neck.Mylips kissing his cheek as I tell him how incredible he is. My body clutched tightly against his heaving chest, his hot pants in my ear.
As if reading my mind, his smile falters.
My knuckles brush his hip. “First place, huh?”
He wets his lips and I can’t look away.
“I was given some prettysweetmotivation.”
Fucking hell, I need to get him alone.
Andrea peels off my boy and squints suspiciously at him. “What are you talking about?”
Remy shoots me a knowing look. “Don’t worry about it."
Her brow furrows further. “Since when do you keep secrets from me?”
Rather than answer, he slings an arm around my shoulder, steering me toward the parking lot as I pass him the M&Ms. Snickering, he rips the bag open and chomps away. The ground becomes clouds. I’m lighter than air, sparks igniting at every point we connect.
“Remy Sullivan!” she barks. “Where the hell are you going?”
He cranes his neck back. “Can you give Ma my bag? I think she’s still sitting with Coach Mills!”
“That’s not an answer!”
He winks at me for the second time tonight. I’m a puddle.
