“Take your time.”
Emily inhaled softly, and as my eyes opened, I took a stolen moment to watch her sitting there. She moved — fingers flexing, shoulders shifting. I traced the angle of her jaw, the slope of her smooth neck, the curve of her lips.
Fuck, I wanted to kiss her.
“Whenever you’re ready, open your eyes,” I said.
Her eyelids fluttered open.
And her gaze landed on me.
For an extended breath of time, neither of us moved.
The air shifted, the floor melting beneath us, everything in that dark room warm and weighted like something had changed in the space between us while we weren’t looking.
Her lips parted just slightly, her throat working as she swallowed.
“How do you feel?” I asked, my voice quieter than before.
She blinked, like she was still catching up to herself. “I…” Another swallow. “I don’t know. That was—”
She let out a soft breath, shaking her head once.
“It stirred something up.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. That happens sometimes.”
Her gaze searched mine, like she didn’t know what to do with this discovery.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked.
She shook her head almost immediately, a small, quick movement. “No.” A beat passed, and then her eyes found mine again. “Do you?”
I let out a long breath, deciding. A smarter man would have said no. He would have rolled up the mat, thanked her for joining, and dipped out of there. He would have walked out of this room and never looked back.
But I was apparently a very dumb motherfucker when it came to this woman.
“I feel like shit after the game on Sunday,” I admitted. “And before you say what all my coaches and teammates have, I know it’s not just one player who earns a loss like that. It’s not all on me. Butpartof it was. I had four drops.Four. So many that Coach pulled me to ride the bench and get my wits about me. It was a poor showing and I’m ashamed of it.”
Emily’s brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. That has to be really hard, when you don’t perform as well as you know you can.”
I nodded. “It’s brutal.”
“I know it’s not the same, but it happens in dance, too. I’ll run a routine perfectly at rehearsal and in my room, landing every twirl, kick, jump, and tumble. But sometimes, when the stadium noise and lights are so loud, I just… stumble. I miss something. I fuck up — no matter how hard I practiced.”
“How do you deal with it?”
She shrugged. “I just keep going. I pretend I meant to do it, make every misstep an intentional move. I find the next beat and join right back in, and before I know it, I’ve found my groove again.” She paused. “I know it’s not as easy for you. With a dance, no one really knows you messed up unless they’re entirely focused on you, or you show it on your face somehow. But in agame like the one you played Sunday, all the eyes in the stadium are on you. They see your every move — good or bad.” She swallowed. “I can’t imagine how hard that is.”
I lifted one shoulder. “It’s hard,” I admitted. “But it’s also incredible. When you get it right, when you snag the ball out of the air with one hand, or pull it into your chest against all odds and secure the first down…” I shook my head. “It’s fucking magic.”
Emily’s smile mirrored mine, her eyes floating down to where she was picking at the fraying rubber on her mat. “I have no idea what I want to do with my life.”
The words hung heavy between us, her throat constricting like they’d hurt coming out.
“I’m twenty-nine. I’m the oldest member of the squad. And let’s be honest, I’ve gotmaybetwo more seasons before I’ll be too old to achieve thelook.”
“You’re stunning, Emily.”
