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“I agree,” she says, followed by a sheepish laugh.
Her smile flirts with her cheeks, pushing them higher, making them rosier. She starts to blush from my attention, or maybe the power of the moment. It’s adorable.
She leans in for a chaste kiss and grazes the tip of her nose against mine before falling against my chest and sliding her hands to my back.
“I’m really sorry, Cutter. About everything. I’m just scared.”
I slide a strand of hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear as I cradle her head to me.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to up and leave. I wasn’t even really going to move out. I was going to forfeit the bet.”
She snuggles in tighter.
“Bets don’t really work that way. You’d still owe me,” she says, and I cough out a laugh because she’s right.
“Yeah, I guess I would,” I say.
“It’s not you leaving that I’m afraid of, though.” She leans back and looks me in the eyes. “I’m afraid of letting you down. Of not showing up when you need me. Of picking me over you. Because that’s what my dad does, and I know how it feels to be on the other side of it.”
I hold my breath and study her face for a beat, thinking of the right words.
“So I’m the one who should technically be scared then. Wouldn’t that make sense?”
Her brow furrows but she says, “I guess,” as she shakes her head.
“And I’m not,” I say, meaning it to the roots. “I’m not afraid of being hurt by you. I’m afraid of not trying for us at all. I’m afraid of regret. Of missing out on something amazing. Of being there for you when you break more records and show thousands of little girls that growing up to play volleyball for a living is possible.”
“But what if I up and run?”
She blinks then stares at me with wide, genuinely worried eyes.
All I can do is laugh then kiss her hard enough to lean her back in my arms, her hair tickling the seat of the bench.
“I guess I’d have to chase you,” I say.
Because that is who Laney and I are. Push and pull. Run and chase. Dig in and fight. And fall in love.
epilogue
five years later
cutter
“You know,just because our boarding group is B does not mean that we somehow lost. B is not for losers.” My girlfriend can turn everything into a competition, including, apparently, checking in to board a flight.
“This is why we fly separately. You don’t get it.” She’s a little grumpy because she’s afraid she won’t be able to get a window seat now. I’ve done the math, though. We may be near the back, but she’ll get a window.
“I think the guy who willingly takes a middle so his girlfriend can look down at farmland gets it,” I grumble, thinking about how skinny I’m going to have to make myself in order to fit. I’m bulky on my own, sandwiched between two travelers makes me feel like a hotdog in the microwave, close to bursting open.
Laney hugs my arm then kisses my cheek.
“You’re right. You do get it.”
Every time she tugs on my sweatshirt I panic. The ring is nestled in the front pocket, and only because I want to be able to check on it constantly. I was too nervous to put it in checked bags, and Laney is in and out of our carry-on too much. The damn box sticks out in my joggers, so this was the best bet. Nothing feels safe from her uncovering it, though.
“We’re next. Come on, we need to get to staging.” She tugs my sleeve to pull me closer to the gate and I stuff my hand into my hoodie pocket to make sure the ring is safe.
“For the record, there is no such thing as staging. There is crowding. What we are doing now is crowding,” I say. Laney glances over her shoulder at me, and I know that look.
