Out of My League - Sarah Sutton Page 0,98
could read it. “I’m not the best at making signs,” I told him quickly. “So don’t laugh.”
I watched as his blue eyes roamed across the white poster board, as the expression on his face fell into a stunned sort of shock. In that moment, I totally could’ve thrown up. In the second between him reading and realization crossing his features, I could’ve thrown up all over his fancy little uniform.
“That circle thing is supposed to be a baseball,” I pointed out, words coming rapid-fire, feeling ten thousand kinds of silly. “It was dumb. I just—”
“‘He stole second base and my heart,’” Walsh read. And then the corners of his lips pulled high, showing me his beautiful smile. It lit a blue-flamed fire in his eyes, and it had that scar by his eye crinkling up. The butterflies were back in my stomach, making me feel like I couldn’t breathe. “Sophie.”
“Welsh.”
Walsh’s lips twitched, remembering that nickname from once upon a time, but he kept going. He reached out and put one of his hands on the sign, lowering it until it touched the ground. “Give me a chance. A chance for you to roll your eyes at me a million more times and for me to call you Sophie, a thousand more lame parties and baseball games and dog walking and fireworks. A real first date, where we can read more romance books that you love and eat Janet’s cookies. I want to give you everything because you deserve it. You’re worth it all, and I’ll prove it to you.” Then, quietly, almost self-consciously, he added, “Please?”
I couldn’t breathe for several moments—the thought of inhaling would’ve been laughable if I had any air inside my lungs—so it seemed like I was deliberating. I tried to play my silence off like he hadn’t just struck me speechless yet again. Like my heart wasn’t about to explode inside my chest and my knees weren’t about to give out in front of the baseball field. Like everything that I’d been wishing for wasn’t coming true.
“Did you recycle the speech you used the night of the party?” I found myself asking, insides quivering.
Walsh’s eyes curved as he smiled. “I bulked it up a bit.”
I stepped closer to him, stepping over the trash bag on the ground. “I’m not sure I can roll my eyes a million more times,” I said, reaching for him. “But I’d love to try.”
Walsh leaned forward and pressed his mouth against mine, lips just as velvety and wonderful as I remembered. His one hand found the dip of my waist, holding me to him. And this—oh, this wasn’t like our first kiss, all fire and desire. This was so much softer and slower, and technically the first real kiss of our relationship. This was the kind of kiss people wrote about in books—the toe-curling, heart fluttering kiss I’d always dreamt about.
I only heard the dull sound of applause when Walsh pulled away, and I turned to meet the eyes of Edith, Jewel, and Zach, all watching us.
“That was beautiful,” Edith said, leaning against Zach’s side. I noticed that his hand brushed hers. “Seriously adorable.”
“I second that,” Jewel added, clasping her hands together.
Zach didn’t say anything, but he grinned.
Yeah, I know. Mortifying.
Walsh ghosted his fingers along my temple, his skin cool against mine. If someone presented this moment to me months ago, I would’ve claimed I were high, drunk, or acting, because never would I ever be kissing Walsh Hunter in my right mind. But this was the realest thing I’ve ever experienced.
Totally threw that no-kissing rule out the window.
“Let’s go get ice cream,” Edith suggested, and Walsh picked up my sign, holding it close. “All of us.”
“We’ll meet you over there,” Walsh said, grabbing the plastic bag from the ground and pulling on my hand.
I didn’t glance over my shoulder as we walked away, but I heard Edith’s voice trailing after us. “You riding with Jewel and me, Zach?”
“Only if I get shotgun,” he said immediately in response, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Walsh tucked my hand close, giving it a squeeze. “I found something yesterday, something that I think you’ll love.”
Most of the cars were gone as we crossed into the parking lot, and Walsh’s rusting SUV stood out as we walked up to it. He fished the car keys from his pocket, and the car clicked as it unlocked.
“Is it better than my sign?” I asked, watching as he tucked it safely into the backseat. “Well, probably a lot