Page 13 of (La)Crosse My Heart (Sweet Sports Kisses #7)

Clark

“ O kay, what are we working on?” I ask Jessa the next day.

I thought we’d be inside one of our houses working on the interviewing process. Maybe using a fake microphone, like a package of spaghetti or something. My house is quiet during this time of day because the other guys are all at their regular jobs.

Instead, we’re standing next to an empty playground at a local park.

“We’re going over some basic interviewing skills. Will you hold onto the monkey bars?”

I swallow and look at her, confused about the instructions. “You want me to go hang from the monkey bars? Aren’t I a little old for that?”

She chuckles. “Don’t you usually do that anyway when you’re working out? It’s just a body hang or something like that.”

She has a point, but it still feels weird that a grown man is playing on the playground.

I barely have to stretch from my standing position.

“Okay, tell me about the first time you held a lacrosse stick.”

I let go of the bars and stare at her. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Clark, we won’t get very far if you don’t shut up and just answer the questions I have for you.” She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a look that says I’d better listen. She’s trying to be intimidating, but she looks adorable when she’s mad at me.

I grin, liking it when she’s assertive. She’s grown into herself and that’s one of the hottest things about her. I mean, if I were interested in dying. Brock would probably not approve of me checking out his sister.

I reach up and take hold of the bar, pulling myself off the ground.

“To be honest, holding a lacrosse stick for the first time wasn’t that exciting. My mom signed me up for many activities back then, hoping I’d like one that would suck all the energy out of me before she had to take me home.”

Jessa laughs and says, “I can understand why she did it.”

My hands burn and I have to readjust my grip once or twice.

She pulls out her phone and points it at me.

“You better not be recording,” I say.

“This is just for practice. Sometimes it’s good to see what you’re doing after the fact so you can fix it.”

I wish she wasn’t right. I’m not good at watching video of myself, but that’s the one thing Coach Martin won’t bend on.

“Fine. What kind of torture is next?”

“I’m surprised you’ve stayed up there that long. Um, when did you know you wanted to play lacrosse more than just recreationally?”

“I think it was my sophomore year of high school. We were playing Groveton, our biggest rivals. I had a breakout game and became a regular starter after that. The adrenaline and scoring was addicting.”

“Okay, you can get down.”

I let go of the bars and start rubbing at my palms, trying to take away the sting as soon as possible.

She turns the phone around and presses play, showing me hanging onto the bars. In my brain, I was struggling, but I actually don’t look too bad hanging there.

“What are some good things you saw in this clip?” she asks.

“Please tell me I don’t have to write a paper on this,” I joke.

She puckers her lips and shakes her head. “There’s a reason I didn’t go into teaching. We’re talking about the positives. What are some things you see that went well?”

I glance back at the screen and blow out a breath, unsure of what to say. It was nowhere near the polished ones she’d sent me to study the night before.

“The only thing I can come up with is that I answered the question while still holding onto the bar.”

Jessa frowns, looking as though a storm is about to come in.

“What are you talking about? You went from looking terrified to your normal self. And you even smiled while the video was going.”

“Because this exercise is ridiculous.”

“Are we complaining about a process that might be outside of the typical box but is helping you? Because I can always smack you upside the head and see how you feel after that.”

I laugh loudly, bending over as I continue. “You definitely have some spunk,” I say when I finally relax a bit.

“There’s no way to get through life than to be more assertive.”

A thought pops into my head, and I wonder what happened to her that made her have that attitude. I know it hasn’t always been her forte, but it’s a good look for her now.

Maybe the deadbeat ex-boyfriend?

“Okay, this time I want you to hang upside down from the bars while I ask you a question.”

I stare at her for an extra few seconds and then sigh. It takes some work, but I finally hang upside down like a bat.

“Do you think I’ll suddenly have a billion dollars and become a vigilante if I hang here long enough?” I ask.

Instead of shooting me a warning look, she snorts and then we both laugh.

“You think you could fight for justice in black spandex?”

I laugh and shake my head. I have to lift up a little to give my head a break from the blood rushing to it.

“I fight for justice daily in my own home. I wonder if this is how my parents felt when I was growing up.”

She laughs again and says, “Probably. Anyway, let’s get back to the exercise.”

“Was this some idea you found on the internet?” I ask, pointing to me hanging from the bar.

Instead of addressing my question, she continues with her own. “What did you do with the awful pair of neon green and pink shorts you had as a teen?”

I’m so surprised by the question that I shift my legs and end up letting go of the bars, falling straight to the ground. My hands only help me miss my head, but I slam my shoulder against the sand. I always thought sand would be a cushion for any fall, but it’s maybe one level under cement.

“Are you okay?” Jessa asks, coming to kneel next to me. I lie there for a few extra seconds and take a few breaths.

“I’ll live,” I say, my breath blowing up some sand into my eyes.

Maybe it’s just easier to not worry about cameras.

“I’m so sorry. I thought it would be a good idea. Let me help you up.”

I finally push up off the sand, feeling the grittiness of it all over my body. That’s the one thing I hate about sand. It’s like glitter. It never goes away, no matter how many times you vacuum and empty stuff out.

I sit on the sand, not wanting to move too quickly.

“What if instead of having me hang from things, we build a sandcastle or something? Is this exercise trying to get in touch with my inner child?” I ask, struggling to keep a straight face.

Jessa frowns and shakes her head. “No. I just thought of the playground so you could do something while distracted from the camera.”

“Well, it turns out it was almost too good of an idea. Anyway, what question did you ask before I tumbled into a concussion?”

Her eyes go wide, and she says, “Please tell me you don’t have a concussion. Coach will kill me.”

I chuckle a bit and say, “I didn’t hit my head, and I’m pretty sure Coach would pick you over me.”

“He’s only met me twice.”

“Exactly,” I say, laughing. I take a couple handfuls of sand and bring it together. It’s too dry, so I dig deeper, finding the sand that will stick together.

“Okay, so the question was your neon shorts. Did you finally give them up? Or did your mom keep them to make you a quilt later?”

“That’s a good idea, actually. She’s kept all of my jerseys over the years, but I don’t think the neon fabric would go well with the rest of the colors.”

“Your mom can do some incredible things with fabric and a sewing machine.” Jessa digs in the dirt, which is surprising because of her nails. They’re not super long, but they are well taken care of. “Have you been back to see her recently?”

I nod, thinking of the trip I took over for Christmas. “She seems to do well. I told her to move out here by me, but she’s got so many activities with her ladies’ civic club and the quilting stuff that it’s easier for her to stay there.”

“She’s always been a busy lady. I’m sure she appreciated having you visit.”

“I’m not sure. I wonder if I actually hinder her schedule when I’m there. How are your parents?”

“Also enjoying being empty nesters. I hear from them twice a month. I’m sure they’ve been around the world at least six times in the past eightish years.”

“Do you see Brock very often?” I ask, doing my best to shape the sand into a square. This is a lot harder to do without those plastic molds.

“Sometimes. He’s dating a gal, and I think they do a lot with her family since she’s from Chicago and they live close.”

I shake my head. “That’s right. I was going to visit him this past weekend, but I was so flustered from my botched acting abilities I forgot most of the things I needed to remember.”

“Are you happy here?” Jessa asks, turning her head to tame one section of hair that fell out of her ponytail. The action is graceful and makes me want to lean over and kiss her. Except we’re sitting in a big kitty toilet. Not the best place for something like that.

“Yeah, I like it. There are a lot of things I miss about the East Coast, but there’s plenty to do, depending on the season.”

“That’s good.”

I construct the next part of the small tower I’m working on, but the base isn’t completely sturdy.

“So, um, what happened with Dan?”

Her eyes grow wide, and she takes in a deep breath before she looks away.

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?” I ask, stopping my building so I can watch her expression.

“I mean, there’s nothing to tell because we rarely did anything of note.”

“So what made you break up?”

She breathes out, letting the bits of sand fall to the ground as she watches it.

“I wanted more. I want more. I don’t want to be stuck in a cycle out of convenience. If I’m going to be with someone, it’s because I’m learning and growing with them, not tugging them along to do anything.”

With a small smile, I say, “Well, I’m glad you finally realized that with Dan the Dud. The guy’s personality was awful.”

She regards me before saying, “Yeah, but maybe that was how I look to him, you know?”

“Is that what spurred on the fresh start out here?”

She nods and says, “Absolutely. I knew if I didn’t change scenery, I’d end up in the same position, not making any significant progress in my life.”

“And how has it changed you for the better?”

She laughs. “Maybe we should have you on the other side of the camera. Your questions are good.” She thinks about it for a moment and says, “Well, in my less than a handful of days experience, I’ve learned how to move across the country, for one, and I’ve had to be outgoing because I don’t know anyone yet. ”

“Except for me,” I say, giving her a cheesy grin.

“Except for you,” she says, smiling. “Then again, there’s been a lot of years in between when we were teens and now. It’s kind of fun getting to know the older you.”

Something in her eyes is different, as if she’s seeing me for the first time. And with all of her openness about her past relationship with the golfer wannabe, I have this urge to be that for her. To be the one who helps her experience things and enjoy the big and little things in life.

What’s going on with me? I’ve never had the thought of wanting to pursue a relationship with a woman while still playing lacrosse.

My health is good and I hope to continue playing for the next ten years.

The endorsements help, but could I support a family on what I’m making now?

Who am I kidding? There’s no way she’d even look at me as anything other than Brock’s friend.

Something about that hurts and I wish I could fix it now.

Jessa stands up, swiping the sand off her pants and working to get it out of her sandals.

“Did I pass, Coach?” I ask, trying to change the mood. Not that there’s anything wrong, but I need to shake this from my system and now.

Lacrosse needs to be my focus, as well as helping my teammates improve.

Jessa laughs and says, “Maybe. Hopefully, there’s no lingering injuries with your shoulder.”

I roll the shoulder I landed on and say, “I think we’re good. Why don’t you ask me another question while we stand here? I can probably handle it now.”

She raises her eyebrows and says, “Okay, let’s do this.”