next level.
And yet, when I looked up into those unfathomably blue eyes, I looked into a mirror. We’d both been forced to grow up fast. We’d both had to play our parts to fit in. We’d both been put through the wringer, and somehow, we had found it in ourselves to still feel.
After Josh, I’d never thought I’d feel again.
Court had ruined it all.
Or saved me.
Depending.
“I like you, too, Anna,” he breathed an inch from my lips.
“You do?”
“Yes. I like your ambition and your wit and your insufferable need to always be right.”
“I do not—”
He pressed a finger to my lips. “Like I said.”
I snorted.
“I don’t know where this leaves us,” he admitted, trailing his fingers back into my hair. “But I know I want to try.”
I breathed out at those words and nodded. He fitted his lips to mine, sealing it with a kiss.
Part IV
Reality’s a Bitch
25
English
The sidelines of the first youth lacrosse game of the year were a surprisingly loud event. The parents clearly knew the rules much better than I did. I had no idea what was happening. Court had tried to explain the mechanics of the game to me, but it just made little sense.
So, I watched him in his natural element and tried not to laugh when I overheard some of the moms going on about how hot the coach was. Couldn’t blame them for that assessment. It was half the reason I braved the brisk October temperatures.
The referee blew the final whistle for the game. Court’s team had lost terribly. They’d only had a few weeks of practice, and it was a brand-new team. So, it wasn’t surprising, but it was disappointing.
After slapping hands with the other team, everyone huddled up around him. He swiped the red hat off of his head. He must have given some pep talk that energized them because they went from looking defeated to optimistic. They did a chant and then raced to their bags.
I stepped out of line with the parents and trotted forward with a grin on my face. Court flopped the hat back down and met me at his bag.
“Good game, Coach,” I said with a barely suppressed grin.
“Did you understand any of it this time?” he asked with his own smile.
“Ball goes into the mitt thing. You use the stick to try to get it into the net. They did not do enough into-the-net action.”
He shook his head in dismay. “You catch the ball in the head of the lacrosse stick. The stick part is called the shaft. And yeah, scoring could have gone better.”
I snorted. “Head and shaft. This sport was clearly created by a man.”
“I can’t with you.”
“Oh, come on. Try to tell me it’s not phallic.”
He shrugged. “Fine. But isn’t everything?”
“You can show me later.”
“That I will.” He gestured for me to stand to the side while he answered a few parent questions. He waited until his entire team had left with a parent, and then we walked off of the field.
Despite the wind, it was a beautiful day. The trees faded from vibrant green into gorgeous fiery red, burnt orange, and golden yellow. Leaves lined the walkways, crunching under our feet. And already, the sun lowered earlier on the horizon.
It was most people’s favorite time of year. But as a California girl, I was not looking forward to my first year with seasons. And absolutely dreading the snow. Why couldn’t it be seventy-five degrees everywhere?
“Bummed that you didn’t win?”
He shrugged. “My competitive side says we should up practices to two or three times a week. That maybe I should recruit some other kids from better teams. I could probably convince the parents to switch.”
“You’re insane. You realize these are, like, ten-year-olds, right?”
“Yeah. It’s just supposed to be fun, right?”
I laughed at his distressed face. “It will be fine. You’re not doing it to win championships anyway. You’re doing it to help kids with an outlet. Most of them wouldn’t even be able to play lacrosse if it hadn’t been for your donation. Between uniforms, masks, sticks, cleats, and all the fees. You’ve done a great thing.”
“I still want them to win,” he said, determined.
“I like this side of you. Why did you ever hide it from me?”
He grinned and slipped his arm around my waist. “Mostly, I didn’t want it to be a publicity stunt. I thought you’d see it as one.”
“I probably would have,” I agreed.
“And now?”
“Now, we’ll just use it if we have to.”
He snorted. “You’re a trip.”
I wished