Page 66 of Kickoff

“Ohmygod, your ego. Let’s finish this because you promised me you’d spend the afternoon timing my laps at the pool.”

“I’m almost done.” I stretched to grab the plate and devoured two pieces of brownies.

“Geez, Mase. You’re disgusting.”

I chewed with an open mouth, and Melinda burst out in peals of laughter, hiding her face in her hands.

“See? Irresistible,” I said once I washed the crumbs down with a sip of the juice. “I thought I was the only one liking orange juice with dessert.”

“Nope. Chocolate and orange are the best combination.”

“Do you want some?”

“Nah. Not hungry. Thanks, though.” She held out her hand. “Let me see what you’ve done so far while you finish the last few problems.” She studied my homework. “Good. I think you understand it now.”

The truth was that math had always been a favorite subject of mine. One I aced and needed no help with. Melinda and I had never been in the same math class, so she had no way of knowing that fact about me unless she pried it out of someone, which I knew she would not do.

Earlier, we had gone on an eight-mile run together. Melinda took that getting-back-in-shape challenge seriously. If it had been left to her, all we’d do these days would be running and lifting weights in addition to our regular training hours at school. I didn’t want her to overdo it and hurt herself in the process, so I had offered to make a schedule, starting next week.

We worked side by side in comfortable silence for a little longer.

Melinda’s bedroom resembled mine a lot. Posters of athletes we liked were pinned on the walls. Hers were Olympic swimmers, while mine were pro-football players, whose footsteps I aspired to follow someday. The walls were painted in a cream shade. The decor consisted of matching pieces of white furniture in the form of a double bed, nightstand, and dresser. A golden velvet plush chair was positioned in one corner next to a shelf that had books along with trophies and medals she’d collected over the years. A rectangular bright-pink rug was spread between the bed and closet, the same hue as the throw folded on the dresser and the comforter.

I glanced at Melinda, admiring her profile while she scribbled in a notebook.

By now I could decipher every telltale sign of hers. When she was deep in thought, she’d bite the end of her pencil. When she questioned herself, a frown that I longed to erase with my finger creased her forehead. When she got bored, she twisted a strand of her hair around her middle finger.

“I’m only smarter because of the tutor,” I said out of the blue.

Her gaze lingered on me for a long moment, her face unreadable. “When you put in the work, Mase, you do amazingly.” Her praise beelined straight to my heart and blossomed there. All of me loved it when Melinda Shepard gave me a compliment. Even though I got accustomed to her eye rolls, and they kinda did something to me, I preferred her words of encouragement.

I finished the last two questions and passed the sheet over so she could check them out while I stuffed my books into my backpack, knowing I had nailed both problems. I jumped to my feet, ready to bolt out of there, and slipped my black hoodie with my jersey number printed on the front in gold ink over my head. “Wanna get some food before we hit the pool?” I kicked my legs to remove the numbness that had taken over my lower limbs before squatting down to put my sneakers on.

Melinda stood and grabbed the powder-blue cardigan she had discarded on her bed earlier, buttoning it up over her white T-shirt. “Is your stomach bottomless? You just had a snack.”

“I’d like to think so.” I shouldered her gym bag over mine and carried the empty dishes to the kitchen downstairs before we headed for my car parked next door.

On the way to the athletic building behind the school, we grabbed takeout and ate in the car—well, I inhaled two chicken burritos while Melinda only nibbled on a side of guacamole and chips because she said her muscles would cramp if she trained with a full stomach, which kinda made sense. Thirty minutes later, sitting by the pool, my feet dangling in the water, I timed her on my phone. Every one of her motions was precise and perfectly executed. I could see concentration taking over her features when she was in the zone, reminding me of myself on game day.

Melinda did a few warm-up laps before swimming three one-hundred-meter sets. She stopped in front of me on the last one, her hands clutching the pool edge between my open thighs, breathless. “How did I do?”

A whistle passed my lips. “Careful or Team USA will snatch you and train you for the next Olympics.”

“You think? That would be like the ultimate dream.”

“Definitive. Let’s see how you did.” I pretended to study my phone, feeling her sharp gaze locked on my face. “Okay, so… Fifty three point one seconds. Fifty three point seven seconds. Fifty two point six seconds.”

She whipped off the goggles from her face and blinked at me. “You sure?”

I flipped the device so she could read the screen.

“Mase…” She blinked fast, drops of water hanging from her long eyelashes. “The last one is my best time ever. I’ve never swum the one-hundred-meter under fifty two point nine seconds.”

Pride flashed in her eyes. And right now, I would have given anything to be able to claim her lips and kiss her senseless. The timing still wasn’t right. Too soon. We weren’t quite there in our friendship yet. I swallowed, trying to chase the discomfort spreading through my body. My blood felt like lava as it traveled through my veins. My heart pounded like I’d put it through intense exertion when in fact I’d been sitting by the poolside for the last twenty minutes. With my head tilted back, I stared at the high concrete ceiling, sucking air through my mouth to calm the tug-of-war playing inside me.

“You okay?” Her voice helped release the tension coiling me tight.

I cleared my throat. “Sure. I was thinking about something.” You. Me. Kissing. More than kissing. Your body. My body. Those kinds of things really.