Page 237 of On His Team

I don’t turn around.

Gianna sees me before I get to her. “You came looking for me.”

“No.”

“You absolutely came looking for me.”

“I wanted water.”

She looks at the empty glass in my hand.

I didn’t know I was holding one.

“Sure.”

I fill it.

Gianna waits. Then she leans closer, watching me. I drink my water. Then she follows me back to the couch.

The week narrows toward Saturday. Practice, lift, video, class. Then more video. Michigan sits underneath all of it.

My grad application is still somewhere in the university system, unchanged by how many times I check the portal. I look twice that week anyway and get the same answer both times. Nothing yet.

By Wednesday night, Gianna is at Hawthorne with a backpack and the claim that she is going to study. She lasts maybe half an hour. I’m at my desk watching Michigan clips when she gets off the bed, comes over behind me, and closes my laptop.

I look up at her.

“You’ve watched that same entry six times.” She settles into my lap before I can open the computer again, one arm looping around my shoulders while the other stays on the closed lid. “They’re doing something different?”

I put my hands around her waist. “Their weak-side defenseman is stepping earlier when Benson carries. Last game they gave him more room before they closed.”

“So if they step?”

“Somebody else opens. We have to move it before they recover.”

Gianna nods like she understands. Then her attention leaves the laptop completely.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

She studies my face.

I know that look now.

I let out a breath. “Just overthinking it.”

Her fingers move slowly along the back of my neck. “I like when you tell me things.”

“Yeah?”

That gets a small smile out of her.

I pull her closer and kiss her.

The rest of the night gets easier after that.

Later, she is stretched across my bed in my T-shirt, and I’m beside her with one arm resting over her lower back. Neither of us is really doing anything anymore.