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Her response doesn’t come for a little while, but then my phone buzzes in my hands.
Her: If anything, I’m YOUR dirty secret.
Me: Sit your ass next to me.
Her: I’m already sitting.
Me: Fine. I like being behind you. It’s a nice position.
I catch her reflection in the window, and she’s smiling down at her phone. That’s a good sign.
Her: Great game. Turns out, you’re really good when you’re not tackling a spectator.
I can’t help the pride that bubbles inside me. Some days you make the big plays, and some days you don’t. But it’s always amazing when someone you care about acknowledges what you did.
Sitting back, I think about what transpired between Charley and me. The connection we had. The sparks during our conversation. Something about her is magnetic, calling to the parts of me that I don’t like to share. Plus, she’s different and exciting.
I take a deep breath as the depth of my feelings wash over me at once. Charley thinks I have everything figured out, but this is new. A little scary, a little bit fucking awesome.
Me: Thanks. I’m sure you were the best assistant you could be.
Her: Oh yeah. I’m beginning to think it’s an occupational hazard to get run over on the sidelines.
Worry pinches my chest.
Me: Are you okay?
Her: Fine now that I have this Snickers.
Me: Hey, pass a piece back to me. I gave you my only food.
Her: Are you serious? You gave it to me.
Me: But now my stomach wants some.
Her: You should have thought about that before you gave it to me.
Movement catches my eye, and I flick my gaze up to find Charley peering through the gap…popping the last piece of Snickers into her mouth and chewing it with a big grin.
I lean forward, sneaking my hand through the crack to grasp the nape of her neck. Her eyes go wide, and I marvel at the uncertainty there. I rub my thumb under the base of her ear and whisper, “I’ve got some things for you to do with that mouth.”
Her eyelashes fan over her cheeks, and we stay that way for a while until I pull my hand back.
I try to relax in my seat, close my eyes, and enjoy the silent drive home, but I can’t. The jostle of the bus and thoughts of Charley keep me up, so I tap the equipment guy on the shoulder.He peers around and has to take his headphones off to hear me ask, “Hey, switch seats with me? I’ve got one to myself.”
He shrugs and stands, and I grab my bag and plop into the seat next to Charley. Round eyes meet mine. “What are you doing?” she hisses.
“Sitting next to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to. Plus, I want to prove that you’re not my dirty little secret.”
“I was only joking.”
“No, you weren’t.” I stare into her brown eyes, and I know I’m not wrong. “Besides, I intended on texting you the whole ride home anyway, so now we can just talk.”
She looks past me, her stare darting around the interior of the bus.