Page 22 of Friends to Lovers

The second round kicks off, and Stevie and Oliver guard our flag.

On offense this time, I run through the forest with Sasha.

She stays in front of me, crouched so as not to disturb any of the lower hanging branches and alert someone to our presence.

We stick close to the trees, pausing every few seconds to listen for footsteps.

We’re about to cross the path when a hand lands on my shoulder, jerking me to a stop.

I whirl to find Ren, who’s frowning down at me in a sorry you had to lose way, eyes shining at the same time as Sasha howls, “No!” and Thad pops out of the trees above us and lunges to ward her. I’d assumed that fatherhood ended his tree-climbing days, but apparently I was wrong.

“Come on,” I say as Thad begins to lead us toward jail. “Were you guys just lying in wait?”

Ren jogs backward up the trail, grinning. “Got to keep up!” he calls.

We reconvene at the swing set before the next round, circle close around Sasha.

“You,” she says, pointing at the lead guitarist. “You’re our jailer this round.”

He nods and heads toward the slide, rubbing his hands together in preparation.

“Joni,” Sasha says to me. “You run like hell toward the flag.”

“She has the shortest legs,” Stevie says.

“I am not that short,” I say, indignant. It is my lot in life to be of average height but surrounded by enough tall people that I seem shorter than I am. I was devastated when I reached my early twenties and had to make peace with the fact that a final growth spurt was never coming for me.

“You are,” Sasha says.

“I’ll run,” Stevie says.

“ I’ll run,” I cut in. They both glance skeptically at me. I roll my eyes. “I’m fast.”

“Better be,” Sasha says as she spots the waving beam of Leo’s flashlight, his signal that the round is beginning. Stevie ducks into the trees next to us, ready to keep an eye out for anyone approaching, and Sasha looks at me, eyes going wide. “Go!” she says, thrusting me forward.

“Oh, shit,” I say. I take off in a dead sprint across the yard.

My two-second error cost us, though. Just as I’m about to cut through the side yard, Ren steps into my path.

I let out a sound that’s half scream, half laugh and dart around him, but I’m not fast enough.

His arm comes around my middle and he hauls me up against him, my knees bending as I grasp to push him off.

“Oh my god ,” I say once he’s set me down. “Are you coming after me on purpose?”

“It’s kind of the point of the game. Making sure you can’t get the flag.”

I throw a hand out, indicating the side yard still stretching out behind us. “I’m yards away from your flag!”

“Be proactive, not reactive, Joni,” he says instructively, then lets a wry smile slip.

“Do you say that when you’re coaching too?” I ask, taunting him.

“Of course.” He hooks a finger under my chin just long enough for me to have to look up at him. “Got to keep an eye on your opponent,” he adds quietly.

“Sabotage!”

We both jump at the sound of Thad’s voice.

“Stop!” he shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Stop the game! Conspiracy!”

“Thad,” Ren says, dragging a hand down his neck, tugging at his bandana. “Come on.”

“Nope,” Thad says as footsteps come toward us. “You and Joni can’t be trusted.”

“Kindly step away from our runner,” Sasha says as she reaches us, Stevie behind her.

“Your runner?” Ren says. He looks down at me. “Sure you made the right call there?”

“It’s not funny ,” Stevie says. “You two are standing out in the open, conversing . Whose team are you on?”

“Yours,” I say as Leo comes hurtling out of the trees and halts next to her. “Totally yours.”

Stevie and Leo turn to Thad and Sasha and they all mutter together. I hear bits of it: Do we put them in jail? Switch teams? When I look at Ren to try to parse his reaction, he flashes a suppressed smile at me, shaking his head.

They break apart. “We’ve decided to give you each one more chance,” Leo says. He holds up a finger when I start to smile. “But if either of you are found so much as breathing in the direction of the other, you’re out.”

Sasha leads me back toward the swing set, glaring over her shoulder at Ren. “If you could refrain from distracting any more of our team members, that would be excellent!”

“Yes, Captain!” Ren calls back. When I catch his eye, he winks.

Stevie complains that talent is split unevenly between the teams, but we finally win the following round, Sasha racing back to our camp with the blue flag raised in triumph, and we have to call a tie on the next when Stevie and Leo both end up at the middle point with each other’s flags at the same moment.

He grabs her, tossing her over his shoulder and pretending to carry her in the direction of blue’s jail.

When he sets her down, she swats at his chest, then kisses him once, quickly, and runs back over to us.

During round six, I follow Stevie into the trees along the side of the yard.

The stars are fully out now, any remaining gray in the sky gone, and we make our way down the slight slope, staying well into the woods, the flashlights Oliver handed out aimed at the ground.

Since we were accused of sabotage, Ren and I haven’t crossed paths again.

But just as Stevie and I head toward the place where the woods meet the yard and the firepit comes into view, there’s a crunch of leaves underfoot next to us and he pops up out of nowhere, tagging Stevie.

I narrowly skid away, retreating down where the path curves toward the lighthouse.

“Ren!” Stevie growls loudly. “How the hell is someone as tall as you so quiet?” As he drags her toward blue’s jail, which is really just one of the wicker chairs around the firepit, she shouts, “Run, Joni! Avenge me!”

It’s enough to give me a new burst of energy.

I yank the hood of Ren’s sweatshirt over my head and dash between the trees, keeping my flashlight tucked up into the too-long sleeve, despite how dark it is.

Something about the soft, well-loved hoodie buoys me, like I’m absorbing from it some of whatever confidence Ren’s using to slink around so skillfully.

I pick a careful, quiet route deeper into the forest, head uphill again so I might be able to tag Stevie out of jail from behind.

I make it back to where I can see the house, the distant orange glow from the windows lighting up the deck and the patio below.

At the firepit, Leo is pacing while Stevie sits in one of the chairs, arms crossed.

I shuffle sideways through the trees, crouching low, an eye on the firepit, waiting for the right moment to strike. If I can free Stevie, maybe we can create enough of a distraction that Sasha can swoop in and grab the flag. I haven’t heard any commotion, so I assume she hasn’t been spotted yet—

A hand wraps around my arm, and I jolt back, colliding with a hard chest. I twist fast, pulse hammering in my ears, to find Ren behind me. I thought I’d been so sneaky, keeping my flashlight off, blending in with the trees. Apparently, Ren is sneakier.

“What the hell,” I say. “Why are you so quiet?”

He reaches up, plucks the hood off my head. “Don’t think it would be a problem if we were on the same team,” he whispers, eyes luminous in the dark. He steps back, nods me in the direction of the patio.

But I don’t move. “You’re not really going to take me to jail, are you?” I say. Maybe if I can keep him here long enough, not alert anyone else to our whereabouts, I might be able to convince him not to give me up to his team.

Something flickers in Ren’s eyes, his smile faltering. “That’s the game, isn’t it?”

“You could break the rules, you know.” I take a step closer to him. “This one time.”

I fiddle with one of the drawstrings on the hoodie, trying to ignore how much the smell of it comforts me. Ren notices the movement, looks down at it and back up at me. He’s suspicious, but making a run for it would be futile.

There’s a rustling near us.

“Ren.” Thad’s voice rings out.

Ren seems to weigh his options, peering over my head in the direction of Thad’s voice and then back down at me. Make us known and win the round, or hide like this longer and risk being caught and accused of conspiring again?

I widen my eyes up at him, attempting to appear innocent, and he grabs my hand, tugging me over to a huge, mossy tree. He leans me up against it, grips my upper arms like he’s trying to keep me there, one of his knees just between mine as he stills our bodies.

“He’s not as quiet as you,” I whisper, and Ren presses a finger to my mouth.

Thad’s steps stop. “Ren,” he hisses again. “I can hear you.”

Ren’s eyes dart toward the sound. We wait for a minute, hardly breathing. Seemingly satisfied that I’ll be quiet, the hand he has on my mouth slides away and comes to rest where my shoulder curves into my neck, pinning me in place.

There’s another rustle from a spot on the other side of the tree, close to where we last heard Thad.

“Did you find him?” a voice asks—the drummer, Dev, I think.

“No,” Thad says. “I swear, if he’s defecting—”

Ren’s eyes fix on mine, questioning. I shake my head.

“I have to,” he whispers. “They’ll think we’re conspiring.”

“They’ll think we’re conspiring if they find out we’ve been hiding,” I whisper back. “And then we won’t be able to play anymore.”

His gaze drifts over my head, a muscle working in his jaw. He’s about to say something when their footsteps shuffle closer. Anxious not to be caught myself, I fist a hand in Ren’s T-shirt and draw him in so we’re pressed together, flush against the tree.

Something like surprise passes over his face before his expression goes serious. I feel it like he’s run the corner of an ice cube up my spine. His fingers slowly move from my clavicle up my neck, under my hair. I curl mine tighter into his shirt, tilt my chin up as his eyes drop to my lips.

“Blue wins!” Leo’s voice rings out, followed by Stevie’s wail of disappointment. Thad and Dev’s footsteps take off in the direction of the yard.

For the span of two breaths, Ren and I stay pressed together.

I’ve tried not to picture this moment, having him this close to me again.

But now that it’s here, I realize that even if I’ve been able to avoid envisioning this fantasy—cool night air, us together, in the dark—that doesn’t mean I’ve figured out how not to want it.

His chest rises and falls against mine, and I wonder if we stayed still, locked together like this, if anyone would come looking for us.

It’s the fact that I want to stay here that has my grip on his shirt loosening and my head ducking to the side. Ren takes the cue, steps away, running a hand through his hair while I remain propped against the tree, heart thrumming in my ears.

It takes him a minute to look at me, but when he does, all the life that was in his eyes earlier is gone. Time comes out of its slow crawl. “We should go,” Ren says.

I nod, still adjusting back to the moment. “Right. Don’t want them to think we’re conspiring.”

We walk back to the yard in silence. Sasha narrows her eyes at our late arrival, Stevie in a similar pose next to her, but neither says anything. Thad and Leo are too busy celebrating their victory to clock our presence.

We play two more rounds, but any competitive spark in me is gone. Sasha must notice, because she puts me back on guard at the swing set. When Thad sneaks in to steal our flag, I tag him half-heartedly at the last minute. We win. But it doesn’t feel like a victory.

When everything is said and done, blue wins it all, but only by one. Thad and Dev lift Leo onto their shoulders, the bassist bowing down to honor the king. Ren claps from behind them, but his smile is drawn in, the corners of his mouth tight.

“Where were you out there?” Thad asks him as we all trudge toward the house after. “We could have won by more if you didn’t totally choke the last two rounds.”

Ren pauses to untie the bandana around his neck, and Thad follows suit. As I pass them in the yard, my mind whirring, our eyes meet for a second before we both look down. “Sorry,” I hear Ren say, the enthusiasm in his voice forced. He slaps Thad on the back. “At least we won, right?”

I tune out the rest of their conversation.

Everyone cuts through the side yard down to the firepit, but I veer off to the porch and crawl into bed, determined to be asleep by the time Ren returns.

I can still feel his hands on my neck, the familiar smell of his sweatshirt, the faint look of surprise on his face as our bodies swept together.

I try to push it all away, remind myself it’s impossible.

But the image of him comes floating back, unstoppable as the tide, again and again and again.