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Well. That’s that, then.
He made it clear how he felt about me. A soccer ball to the face obviously hasn’t changed his mind.
CHAPTER 28
Mac
The only reason I’m driving to Katrina’s house is because I want to make sure her face is okay. It’s purely medical. I’m the one who kicked that ball; I’m the one who should be checking on her.
It’s not because my stomach has been writhing like a pit of snakes since I saw her ex-husband with his arm around her. It’s not because she dismissed me and stayed with him on the sidelines.
I was being a fucking idiot when I kicked that ball. I’d seen her hungry gaze on me every few seconds since I ran out of the school, and like a hormonal, idiotic teenager, I wanted to show off. I kept hitting the soccer balls harder and harder in the warm-up drills, until that one hit my cleat wrong.
The sound of that ball hitting her face has been echoing in my head ever since.
So, when I pull up outside her house and cut the engine to my truck, I look at the yellow light spilling from the curtained windows and I let out a deep breath. Grabbing the flowers I bought at the grocery store from the passenger seat, I run my fingers through my hair and push the car door open.
One thing I realized today, when I watched Shitstain Kevin be the one to comfort her, is that Trina is worth it. I need to get over myself, get over my fears, and tell her how I feel. Who cares that she’s a parent of one of my students? Who gives a fuck?
Not me, that’s who.
Okay, so it might not be a purely medical visit.
These flowers might not be saying, “I’m sorry I hit you in the face with a soccer ball,” but instead they mean, “I’m sorry I pushed you away because I think I might actually be in love with you.”
I freeze halfway up the path as that thought clangs through me.
Am I… Am I falling in love with Trina?
I stare at the colorful bunch of flowers in my hand, smelling the sweet scent of them as the world whirls around me.
I am. I’m in love with Trina. What other explanation could there be for these feelings? For the abject misery I’ve felt since she showed up in my classroom wearing those pale-blue pants? For the complete disinterest I’ve had in every other woman? For the near-obsession I feel every morning, hoping she’ll show up at my classroom door with Katie even though I know she won’t?
What other feeling could be so great and also so damn horrible? It has to be love.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m hurrying up the last few steps to the door and pressing the doorbell. I hear girly laughter and a little squeal—Katie—as my heart bangs against its cage. Because my ribs feel like a cage right now, like they’re the only thing preventing my heart from jumping right out of my chest and into Katrina’s hands.
Then the door opens, a halo of golden light around her head, and I’m breathless. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts, with those wide, hazel eyes and her perfect rosebud mouth.
There’s a bruise forming around her eye—from the soccer ball, no doubt—and I hate that I’m the one who put it there.
“Mac.” Her brows jump as she takes me in, then glances at the flowers.
I thrust them toward her. “For you.” Nothing else comes out.
Tentatively, she wraps a delicate hand around the stems, then glances at me again. “Thank you.” Those lips I miss kissing curl into a smile. “Is this because you kicked a ball in my face?”
I angle my face away and rub the back of my neck. “Look, I—”
“It’s fine.” She laughs, and my heart nearly breaks at how good it sounds. “Although I’m going to have a nasty black eye thanks to you. Concealer works wonders, but even I’m not sure it’ll be able to cover this up.”
“I hate that I did that to you.”
“Stop it.” She lifts the flowers to her nose and smiles as she inhales. “Thank you for the flowers.”
There’s a pause, and I know this is my chance. This is when I open my coward mouth and tell her how I feel. This is when I say that I’m sorry for pushing her away, that she’s nothing like Belinda, that I don’t give a shit about propriety and professionalism.
This is when I tell her that I’m falling for her, even if it freaks her out, because I don’t think I can keep those words held in.
