Page 9

8

I’M THE ASSHOLE

Jamie

I groan as I roll over in bed, my head pounding with a hangover level of headache despite not having a drop to drink.

Last night did not go well.

I’m a fucking idiot. Again.

Why did I think I could waltz into that event like Prince Charming and Amanda would just fall all over me? I can’t waltz. And Prince Charming is way smoother than I’ll ever be.

Which is obvious by how hard she shut me down.

She was right. I should’ve called her over the last month. I should’ve made a real effort to apologize. And I shouldn’t have tried to do it at her work.

I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if someone ever did as she pointed out and marched up to the mound in the middle of a game to apologize to me. I’d lose the respect of the team and my coaches.

Add that to the list of things I’m going to apologize for.

Things I’m going to show her I’m sorry for.

Because I’m not giving up .

No matter how it might look, I’m sure about my feelings for her. It’s not that it took me kissing her to realize how much she means to me. I already valued her as a person and as a friend. I felt a connection to her. I stupidly thought maybe we could take advantage of that friendship and enjoy each other in a different way, but when we kissed, I realized that connection is because of feelings that have taken root somewhere deep inside me.

Either way, I should’ve talked to her before I kissed her, but that desperation for her is what pulled me in. Spending a month without her name lighting up my phone, without seeing her in the bleachers at any of my games, or without seeing her mischievous smile, has been hell.

She has so much vibrance inside her, and I hate myself for taking away even a piece of it.

It’s also clear that connection between us wasn’t just my feelings for her, but also her feelings for me.

Feelings I disrespected, which hurt her. I’m not going to be dramatic and say I broke her heart, but I definitely broke something special between us and maybe put the tiniest crack in her heart.

All of it has to be fixed. All of it has to be healed.

And it will be.

As soon as I figure out where to start.

If our conversation last night was any indication, this won’t be easy—or quick. Not that it should be.

Last night wasn’t groveling. It was the desperate apology of a boy.

I’m going to man up and tackle this like an adult. If I want a real relationship to grow between us, I’ve got to plant seeds and water them—not a sex joke.

Amanda deserves to be shown not just how sorry I am or how much I want her, but how special she is.

She’s amazing, and any guy—any person—would be lucky to have her. I have the whole damn world to compete with. Luckily, competition motivates me. Not as much making things right—better—with Amanda does.

Now I have to figure out how.

And I think I know the perfect person to ask.

“Ouch.” I rub the back of my head where Trevor smacked me.

He sits back down in his chair across the table from me, arms folded over his chest. “You’re lucky that’s all I did. After everything you just told me, you’re lucky I don’t kick your ass for hurting Amanda. She’s awesome. You were a dick.”

Something like a growl rumbles in the back of my throat.

Wow. It’s safe to say my feelings for Amanda are on a whole new level. I’ve never felt possessive over anyone before. Never wanted to claim them as mine. Suddenly I understand how Aaron is with Rae in a way I never have before.

“I know I was a dick. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”

While Aaron might love Rae and has done a lot of things that make her—as she says— swoon , they’re a mess, so I don’t fully trust his judgment on this one. But Trevor dated Sarah for like three years in high school. Even though they broke up, it’s not because he did anything wrong, it was because as they got older, they realized it wasn’t the right fit. While they were together, though, I remember Trevor always going above and beyond to do things for her and setting the example of what a good boyfriend should be.

I’ve decided that’s how I’m going to treat this. Like Amanda is my girlfriend. Call it manifestation or setting up the right play, but it’s what I’m doing.

She deserves to be treated like the queen she is, and unless she looks me in the eyes and says no, I’m going to be the one to do it.

“I’m not going to talk to her for you,” Trevor says, looking out the large picture window next to us. We’re at a sandwich shop in downtown Ida—The Pit—which is owned by one of our friend’s family. “This isn’t seventh grade, and also I don’t think you deserve to be defended.”

“Thanks for kicking me while I’m down, but I’m not asking you to talk to her. I need help with ideas. She said she’s not going to believe any apology I make?—”

“Fair.”

“But that I need to show her. And I want to. I’m just stuck on where to start.”

He grumbles. “Fine. But just for that, you’re buying me dessert too.”

“Whatever you want. Just help me. I’ll get on my knees and beg.”

He arches a brow, a smirk breaking through his grumpy expression. “No offense, but you’re not the kind of redhead I want on their knees in front of me.”

I squint at him. “You don’t have a thing for Amanda, do you?”

“No, jackass. And that’s not the kind of red hair I’m picturing.” He looks lost in thought for a moment before he snaps out of it. “But yeah. Fine. I’ll help you. Where do you want to start?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you for help. There’s no hope for me if I can’t get her to let me in. But I don’t know where to start.”

“You need to reconnect with her.”

“Obviously. But how do I do that if she won’t talk to me or do anything besides glare at me from across the room? Help me. Teach me. Explain it to me like I’m stupid.”

The derisive look he gives me tells me there’s no like about it.

I’m a fucking idiot.

Like I don’t already know that.

“If you want her to open up, you need to meet her where she is.”

“Literally?” I ask, and he looks like he might strangle me.

“Find what’s important to her and figure out how to… I don’t know. Ge t involved? Give that special thing to her—not a metaphor for your dick, by the way. I can’t do all the work for you.”

“Okay. I get it. I’m thinking I should ease into it. Maybe thaw things between us first before I try to talk to her again. So I want to start with something where she doesn’t have to see me, but will know I’m thinking about her.” He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “Not flowers. Penny nixed those. They’re too impersonal, apparently.”

“Okay…”

“I like the general idea though. I was thinking coffee, but unless I know where she’s going to be, I can’t just have someone randomly deliver her a coffee.”

Trevor tilts his head back and forth. “She does love coffee. And she’s a sucker for a latte, which means she’ll be going to a coffee shop. You just need to figure out her favorite place. Lucky for you, she posts a bunch on her Instagram.”

I wince. “Yeah. Uh, she might’ve unfriended me and removed me as a follower on all social media. I requested again, but she hasn’t approved it.”

Trev stares at me for a moment, then sighs and grabs his phone. After tapping the screen a few times, he holds it out to me. But just as I’m about to grab it, he lifts his hand. “Don’t make me regret helping you with this. Fix things with her. And so help me God, if you hurt her, it won’t just be me kicking your ass. I’ll get all the guys to help—actually, scratch that, I’ll get all the girls to help. You know how ferally protective they are of each other.”

“Noted,” I say, taking the phone. “I’m not going to fuck it up.”

Again .

Amanda

Bewitched Books and Coffee might be my favorite place in the world.

It’s a tiny little shop just outside of town in Woods Junction.

They have a fun selection of books in the romance and fantasy genres, including a lot of indie authors. I came to a signing here last year and met two amazing local authors, who I’ve since read the entire backlists of and am trying not to stalk too hard on social media.

But the best part is that they make delicious lattes. The coffee part of the shop isn’t the main selling point, so most people just looking for a good cup don’t come here. They hit one of the chain places or stop into—the also fabulous—Mixed Brews in nearby Lacy Creek. One of my favorite things to do is wander the aisles here while I sip on an iced pistachio shortbread latte with pistachio cold cream. It’s the best.

Last night was a fiasco. Not the event—that went amazing, and I had several people ask for my information—but Jamie.

Who in their right mind thinks it’s okay to bring personal drama to where someone is working? Ugh.

Boys.

Men.

Who needs them?

Although, that’s when someone inevitably says they should just be a lesbian, and since the first person to break my heart was female, I can confidently say that doesn’t solve problems.

What does solve problems? Books and coffee. Works every time.

Jace holds the door open for me as we walk into Bewitched. I’ve barred her from mentioning anything relating to Jamie, so we can be centered here in the holy ground.

Jace orders her drink, then I order mine, but as I give the woman working at the counter my name, her eyebrows go up.

“You come in here a lot, right? ”

My cheeks heat a little. “Yes.”

“Well, we appreciate that. It seems like someone else knows too. At least, if you’re Amanda Hamilton.”

“That’s me,” I say in confusion.

“Perfect. Your drink is already paid for.”

I squint and look at Jace, who shrugs.

“There’s a tab open here for you… it’s enough to get a nice drink every day for at least a month,” the woman behind the counter says, looking at the screen.

“Does it say who it’s from?” I ask.

“I don’t have a name here—not a real one.”

“What does it say?”

“Baseball boy…”

Damn him.

This is my safe space. This is…

What is this?

“Okay, thank you,” I say, then let Jace pull me away from the counter.

Stupid Jamie Henderson, crashing my sacred space to give me one of my favorite things. Everyone who knows me knows how much I love coffee. You have to really pay attention to know where I like to get it from though.

But the thing is, I don’t remember ever mentioning this place.

Maybe he assumed?

“So… baseball boy, huh?”

“Shut up. We agreed. No talking about him .”

“But you’re thinking about him.”

“I never said I couldn’t do that.” It wasn’t my plan, but he interrupted my plans to stew in my anger by doing something one could consider sweet.

That I want to consider sweet.

It’s not quite an apology. But it’s better than anything else he’s done in the last month.

We grab our lattes when they’re ready, and make our way around the store, checking what’s new and seeing if there are any new signed copies.

When I see a particularly cute display of blind date with a book options, I snap a picture, getting a piece of my coffee cup in the shot too. It’s not until I’ve uploaded it to my social media that I realize I’ve done that same thing in this shop many times. But when I go to my follower requests, Jamie is still in there. Which means… he found someone else and went through my account on their phone? Because even though I’ve been planning to bring the girls here for a girls’ day coffee and shopping adventure, I haven’t told them how often I come here. The only way he could’ve gotten the information was to find it himself.

And that changes something inside me. I look down at the coffee in my hand.

I asked him to show me.

One little thing like this doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t make it better. It doesn’t mean he’ll follow through. But it melts away a tiny piece of my anger, and that’s something.

Though a part of me wanted to go get my prepaid coffee all weekend long, I didn’t want to take advantage. What Jamie did was meaningful, but if some paid-for coffee is all there is, that feeling would fade. By Monday, though, I gave in and went again. When I did, not only was my coffee paid for, but so was one of their homemade brownies with a handwritten note from Jamie.

He drove all the way there to leave me a note.

I’ve been trying not to overthink what it means—that he’d leave me a note rather than just come see me when he’s already in Woods Junction. He doesn’t know where I live, but he could’ve easily gotten my address from one of the girls.

But the note was cute and sweet .

I know this brownie might not be quite as good as Rae’s, but any brownie is a good one, right? When you’re savoring every chocolatey bite, I want you to know that how you feel when you eat a brownie is how I feel when I’m with you. Comfortable, safe, like nothing else is wrong in the world.

-Jamie

Another bit of my anger melted away when I read that. When I went in again on Thursday, there was another surprise. This one was a specially requested blind date with a book. One with a baseball playing hero who screws up with the girl he cares about and has to grovel.

I smiled like an idiot when I saw that description.

Anger is harder to hold on to when someone shows their heart.

I knew Jamie had a kind one. It still doesn’t change what happened, but I’m slowly starting to believe he’s genuinely sorry. I’m willing to listen to him apologize this time if he wants to try again.

When I got in my car and unwrapped the book, I found that it was not only a specially picked blind date with a book, but that it was a new one from Jade Jackson, one of the local authors I met, and it was personalized and signed for me.

This morning when I went in, there was another handwritten note to go with my coffee—and a breakfast sandwich.

Good luck today.

-Jamie

Which is why I’m standing here, maybe stupidly, looking around the giant gymnasium for Jamie.

Today is one of the tournaments for my three-on-three volleyball rec league. If that’s what the good luck note was for this morning, then maybe…

I shake my head at myself. I need to stay focused so we can kick ass.

If he comes, he comes.

It’s no big deal.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself because the last thing I want to do is get my hopes up, just to have them crushed again.

I love the action and fast pace of volleyball. I always have. I’ll get lost in my head if I have to stand around for too long. I’ll never forget playing goalie in soccer and being endlessly bored or getting stuck in the outfield in softball. If I got to hit and run the bases the whole time, I might’ve enjoyed it more.

I loved basketball, but at barely five-foot-four, it wasn’t the right fit for me. I’m still a little short for volleyball, but on my high school team, I mostly played special defense or libero. With three-on-three, the positions are a bit different, but defense is still my focus, and I’m frequently the first person the ball comes in contact with.

Being out on the court always gives me a bit of peace in the same way planning an event does. It’s clear I thrive in chaos. I’m sure a therapist would love to dissect why, but that’s a Pandora’s box I’m not planning on opening.

“You’re kicking ass today, Mands,” Rae says, handing me a water while I wait for the next match to start. She and Mackie have been here all day long supporting me.

Only two matches left in the tournament. If we win our next one, then we get to play in the final too. I like the girls I’m playing with this year. We’re not destined to be lifelong besties, but we get along and all have the same passion for volleyball, while still enjoying the fun of it being a rec league.

“Thanks,” I say to Rae after a glug of water.

Mackie looks around the room, eyes alight with mischief.

“See something you like?” I tease.

She looks back at me, eyes dancing. “Lots of things. So many short shorts.”

“Oh boy. Do I need to take you and shove you in a cold shower?” Rae teases.

“Rude. But… maybe? Nah. I’m enjoying myself too much. Which is nice. After everything.” Mackie’s relationship with Hyla fell apart, and it killed me to see her suffer because I know that pain. But I also recognize that it’s different because I think they both still love each other, even if I don’t fully understand Hyla’s side of the story. I don’t dislike her, but it’s hard to trust someone who you can tell is hiding something—or who hurts one of your best friends.

I glance around the gym too, mostly checking on the match still going to see who we’ll play, but also to see if I find any cute butts in short shorts.

Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see that familiar fiery red hair, but when I turn all the way, I don’t see Jamie.

At this point, I’m just gaslighting myself into imagining he’s here.

Even though I hate myself for wishing he would’ve come. It’s unrealistic that anyone wants to give up their Saturday and sit in a hot gym all day. I’m grateful Rae and Mackie are here. Sarah came for the morning, but then she had to work. Jace is out of town with her college bestie, or else they probably both would’ve come. Pete stopped by for a bit too. No surprise that Josh and my parents weren’t here. My mom will absentmindedly tell me congratulations when I get home later.

It’s no big deal.

I don’t do this to have people come watch me. It’s something special I do for myself. But having people I care about choose to come and watch me play—when they’re excited—it means a lot.

The other match ends, and as the announcer calls for us to get set up, Rae and Mackie give me big hugs, then go to find seats again.

I watch them as they go, grateful they chose to be here, and trying not to think about the fact that if I hadn’t met them six months ago, I might’ve been alone here all day.

But as the words roll through my mind, my gaze lifts, and I blink, then blink again, certain my eyes are lying to me.

There, sitting casually in the bleachers and eating popcorn, is Jamie.

He came.

When my gaze connects with him, he winks at me, then goes back to eating his popcorn.

My heart pounds, and I’m trying to stay calm because, again, this doesn’t mean anything. Not yet. It’s a start, but… fuck.

Nope. I need to stay focused.

But the fact that he’s here, watching me, is impossible to shake. I want him to watch. I want to put on a show for him. Because even though I wish it wouldn’t, Jamie being here means a lot to my stupid, traitorous heart.

We won the whole damn tournament.

As the two other girls on my team this year surround me in hugs—which makes me feel even shorter than I am—my eyes drift back to the bleachers where Jamie was.

He’s standing now, cheering and clapping.

One of my teammates goes to hug her parents, and the other picks up the little boy toddling toward her before her husband walks over and wraps them both in a hug.

It’s beautiful. But the loneliness seeps in again. I’m so thankful for the people who were here to cheer me on today. But this high at the end… it’s hard not having someone rush to the floor and sweep me into their arms. I know many people value me. I’m important and special to them—and that feels good. But just once, I’d like to be someone’s everything.

I blink back the tears prickling in my eyes as Rae and Mackie run over to me.

“You were amazing!” Mackie throws an arm around my neck, and Rae does the same.

“Thank you.” I wrap an arm around each of them, feeling that gratitude again that I found them—my tribe—and they accepted me so willingly.

“I’m such a buzzkill, but I have to run so I can get home to shower before I have to babysit tonight.” Rae gives me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I love you. You were amazing. Girls’ night and sushi to celebrate this week!”

“Yes, ma’am. Love you too. Drive safe.”

She waves as she walks away, then Mackie slings her arm over my shoulder. “So, what do you think? Should we go out on the town? Fake IDs? Find a college party?” She waggles her eyebrows at me, even though I know Mackie would much rather be home watching a movie.

I’m about to say that, when I track Jamie walking toward us.

The heat of Mackie’s gaze lands on me.

“Jamie came to watch you?”

“Guess so,” I croak.

She spins me to face her. “What haven’t you told us?”

I give an innocent shrug.

“Uh huh. I totally believe you,” she says flatly.

“Your perceptiveness is annoying.”

“Tell me something I haven’t heard before.” She pokes my cheek. “Oh, you totally have a crush on him.”

“I don’t—it’s complicated…” I sigh. “Don’t mention it to anyone. Please?”

She mimes zipping her lips. “I’ll take it to the grave, babe. ”

“Hey, Amanda. Macks,” Jamie says as he gets to us.

“Hey, Jame. I was just heading out.”

Mackie slips her arm off my shoulder, but I grab her hand, flaring my eyes at her.

“You—”

“Gotta run. I have to… meet Miles. Yeah.”

“Mackie,” I hiss.

She kisses my cheek. “Love you. Bye!”

In true Mackie fashion, she smacks my ass as she turns to walk away, trouble in her eyes.

I watch her go, knowing I’m now alone with Jamie. And the scarier part is that I might want to be. Why did she leave me? I need a chaperone, so I don’t do something dumb and get my heart crushed all over again.

Slowly, I spin around and plaster on a smile. Not too big of one because we haven’t talked yet, despite how much I appreciated all the little things he did for me over the past week.

“Hi. Thanks for coming.”

He stares at me for a moment, then steps in, resting his hand on my arm as he kisses my cheek. “You were amazing. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” My stupid voice comes out all breathy, and ugh . For half a second, I thought he takes my breath away.

I need to get my head back in the game and not let my heart rule here. He did nice things, but that doesn’t magically fix things between us, and I need to remember that or I’ll end up with a more bruised heart than before.

“I might have to start calling you the volleyball queen.”

“I’m not that amazing. It’s just a rec league.”

He shakes his head. “In your second match, you did some crazy combination of spin, lunge, and dive, then twisted and bumped the ball perfectly to your teammate. I wish I’d taken a video of it.”

“I—wait. Second match? How long have you been here?”

“Well, I had to take Cal to soccer practice this morning, so I didn’t get here until a little while after the start of the second match.”

“So you were here for the whole thing?”

He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Pretty much. I wanted to see you. And… I know how it felt when you came to my game. I guess I was hoping I could make you feel the same way.” He looks around before meeting my eyes again. “So, any plans right now?”

“Nope. I was just going to shower and head home.”

“Any chance you’d let me take you out for ice cream to celebrate?”

Even though part of me wants to channel that anger to protect myself, it’s pretty well dead at this point. This is an easy first step. Ice cream to break the ice.

“Sure. That would be nice. I’ll just go shower quick, then we can go.”

“I’ll be here.” His warm smile does something to me, and as I walk away, I can’t ignore the rush of excitement that runs through me.

I hate that I still want him. Especially since I still don’t fully trust him or his intentions. But I guess there’s only one way to find out.

Hopefully ice cream will help me cool off, otherwise I might make some bad decisions that my heart will hate me for later.

Jamie

I successfully got Amanda to get ice cream with me. Now I just need to not fuck anything up tonight. It’s not a date, but it’s a start, and I’ll take it.

“So…” Amanda drawls as we wait for our ice cream to be ready. “How much have you been stalking me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say smoothly .

“Mhm. So you just happened to want to get ice cream at my favorite ice cream shop?”

“It was close.”

“We passed three others on the way. You knew about my tournament. And you knew my favorite coffee place.”

“I may have called in a favor. I’ll leave any names out of it for their protection.”

She squints at me. “I know it wasn’t one of the girls. We can’t keep secrets from each other—other than emotional turmoil—to save our lives.” She stares at me for a beat. “But it doesn’t really matter. I appreciate the coffee and the notes.” Her eyes drift up to the sign at the top of the building. “And this.”

“You were right last week. It was wrong of me to crash the event you were working.” I rub the back of my neck. “Sometimes I’m a dumbass.”

She looks at me, eyes dancing, and I brace myself for a sassy remark, but the window slides open again and the girl sets out our ice creams.

We take our bowls and head for a picnic table, where I choose to sit next to her instead of across from her. Pulling a paper from my back pocket, I set it on the table between us.

“You were right about a lot of things. I wrote a whole apology letter, just to get my thoughts out the way I wanted to. You can read it if you want, but I’m going to say a lot of it now. If you’ll let me.”

She gives me a small smile. “I guess I could practice my listening skills.”

“Okay. The first thing I need you to know is that I value you and your… friendship. Friendship doesn’t feel like the right word because sometimes we felt like more than that. But from the moment we met, I’ve enjoyed talking with you and being around you, and that only grew the more we got to know each other. There’s always been a connection between us, and when I kissed you that night, it was because I couldn’t hold back anymore. That pu ll to you was too strong. I can’t say I fully regret it. That kiss lives rent free in my mind.”

She laughs a little and some of the tightness in my shoulders eases.

“But I shouldn’t have done it like that,” I continue. “I should’ve talked to you first about what I felt and what you felt. That kiss changed things though. It didn’t make me realize how much you meant to me, but how deep my feelings were—are—for you. It scared the shit out of me because I knew we couldn’t just have fun. So I stopped things. I know it seems like I was choosing baseball, but I truly didn’t think I could have both. In my own stupid way, I thought I was protecting you from me. The reason I didn’t try to apologize in person was—at first—because I convinced myself I couldn’t have both things. Then I was coming to terms with the fact that maybe I could. Once I realized and understood that, I had to face how I handled things and figure out where to go. Storming the event wasn’t my best plan, but I’m an idiot hung up on a girl I really like, and I did a dumb thing. I’m sure I missed some other things I fucked up on, but I am truly sorry for hurting you and the many ways I handled this situation wrong. I’m hoping you can forgive me and maybe we could try to move forward. Because my feelings haven’t changed, and I really want to give this—us—a shot.”

She swirls her tongue around her spoon, licking at the ice cream like she’s done the entire time I’ve been talking.

My stomach is in knots as I wait for her answer, but she hasn’t punched me or bitched me out yet, so I’ll take it.

“Thank you.” Her voice is soft and filled with vulnerability. “For apologizing, and for… hearing me. Sometimes it seems like I’m drowned out by white noise.”

I slide a little closer, resting my hand on her arm.

“I always see you. Always hear you. If you’re anywhere near me, I can’t help but pay attention. I’m sorry I didn’t do a good job of that the night we kissed.”

She watches me for a moment, then nods and goes back to eating her ice cream. I do the same, even though I really want to say something else. Apologize again. I want to fix this.

But pushing someone when they’re already on the edge doesn’t help. I know that. So I shove another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth to keep myself quiet, but out of the corner of my eye, I watch her. She has three scoops. One cookie dough. One cookies and cream. One brownie batter. Sounds like a good combination, but I’ve always been more into fruity things, so I went with my old faithful—cherry vanilla.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Amanda says, out of nowhere.

I drop my spoon into my dish and turn to look at her. She does the same, though she keeps eating her ice cream as she does.

“Thank you.”

“Did you have a good party? I’m—” She clams up, rolling her lips together. After another bite of ice cream, she starts again. “I was going to apologize for not being there, but?—”

I rest my hand on her arm, giving it a little squeeze. “You don’t need to be sorry for that. I got what I deserved.”

“Maybe. But… I don’t know.” She sighs.

“It was a good party. Could’ve been better if I hadn’t messed things up with an amazing girl, but there was good food, a wiffle ball game, and my favorite cupcakes.”

“What kind?”

“Vanilla with raspberry filling. I’m a sucker for a cake with fruit in the middle.”

“Hey, Jamie.”

“Hi, Jamie.”

Two girls slowly walk by our table, arms linked as they laugh together. I’ve hooked up with one before, and the other hit on me in the past.

I barely give them a glance and an up nod so they’ll keep walking, but Amanda looks at them, then quickly looks away. She tries to pull away from my touch, but I move closer. She is the only thing that matters to me tonight .

“Does that happen a lot?” she asks, somewhere between amused and annoyed.

“Uh, sometimes…” My cheeks flame red, giving me away.

She lifts her arm, and I finally move my hand, letting her brush her thumb over my cheek.

“Why are your cheeks so red? We’ve talked about sex before. And two girls saying hello to you makes you blush?”

“I don’t like that kind of attention on me. Plus, it’s not easy for me to just talk to people.”

She quirks a brow. “Didn’t you say you liked to hook up a lot?” Wow, I wish I wouldn’t have told her that . “How did you do that if you’re not comfortable talking to random people?”

I sigh and ruffle a hand through my hair, then take a bite of my ice cream. “This is going to sound so dickish, but usually they came to me.”

Some of her playfulness drops at that.

“Got it. And are you still—never mind.”

“Hooking up? You can ask me.”

“No. It’s none of my business.”

I tilt my head, unable to stop the stupid smile growing on my face. “Do you not want me to hook up with anyone else?”

Please say yes. That means I still have a shot.

She stares at me for a long beat, then goes back to eating her ice cream before she finally answers me. “It wouldn’t be the best way to win me over.”

Her voice has that same guardedness to it she’s had ever since we kissed.

She’s not ready for me to be playful yet. She needs my sincerity.

I rest my hand on her thigh, drawing all her attention to me. She needs to hear these words and know they’re the absolute truth. “I’m not hooking up or trying to hook up with anyone else. Partly because that would be a really shitty thing to do. But mostly because you’re the only one I want.”

She swallows hard, staring at me like she’s trying to see my soul through my eyes. Who knows? Maybe she can. Maybe that’s her superpower. All I know is she’s my kryptonite. When I’m around her, I’m weak.

“Why me?” Her voice is hushed and raw.

“What do you mean?”

“Why me? Why do you want me?”

The vulnerability in her voice mixed with the pain in her eyes absolutely guts me. I hate every person who has ever made her question her worth. And I know I’m one of them. Which is all the more reason I need to fix this now. I need to show her how much she means to me.

I take her bowl of ice cream and set it on the table. I don’t want anything between us while I say this.

Our knees brush as I shift closer, then gently run my fingers through her hair.

“You’re asking that like it’s a choice. From the moment I met you, I’ve been pulled to you, and the more I get to know you, the more captivated I am. You have a hold on me that I wouldn’t lift even if I could. In only knowing each other a short time, you saw the mask I put on, and you’ve never judged me for who I am underneath it. You are a mesmerizing force of nature, and to be in your path means to be overtaken by the beautiful storm you are. There’s never been a choice, Amanda. From the moment you walked into my life, there’s only been you. And I hope, in time, you’ll believe me when I say that’s all I want. I want to be yours. The person you rely on and let take care of you and protect you and your big, beautiful heart. It’s never been a choice, but even if it was, I’d choose you a thousand times. And I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness and trust.”

She stares at me for a long moment. An arduous, painful moment. I’m sweating, wondering if I took it too far or not far enough—if she’s about to reject me.

“Okay,” she breathes.

“Okay…? ”

She laughs a little. “I forgive you. And I’d like to rebuild that trust between us, then see what happens.”

“Does that mean you’re saying yes to a date?”

She grabs another spoonful of ice cream, swirling her tongue along the edge of it.

“I’m saying you have to keep showing. You said all the pretty words. Now it’s time to prove you mean them, baseball boy.”

Then she does the last thing I’m expecting and presses a kiss to my cheek.

I reach over and rest my hand on her thigh, and we continue eating in a comfortable silence.

I have every intention of proving how true my words are. No. Intention is the wrong word. This isn’t about intention. It’s about action. I know what the stakes are here. It’s the championship game. Every single action makes a difference. Which means doing it all right because every move I make is a play for the future I want us to have.