Page 83 of The Play Maker

A groan escapes me before I can stop it, and I drop my head. “Don’t remind me.”

She nudges her knee against mine. “As your tutor, that’s literally my job.”

I lift my head enough to shoot her a look, raising one brow. “Is that all you are?”

Her expression stutters for half a second. “What else would I be?”

The question hangs in the air. Open. Waiting.

I could lie. I could say something dumb and flirty, play it off like I always do.

But my brain goes somewhere else entirely.

The girl I look forward to seeing every Friday.

The only person I’ve let see the scared, messed-up parts of me.

Someone I want to kiss.

I swallow it down, force a smirk. “My best friend, of course.”

Maisie rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile there, tugging at the corners of her mouth before she tries to hide it.

I watch her for a beat too long. The way her lashes brush her cheeks when she looks down. The soft pink tinting her face. The little curve of her lips like she’s fighting the urge to grin.

I tip my head back against the concrete wall, closing my eyes for half a second. “I’m terrified,” I admit, swallowing harshly.

Maisie looks over again.

“I want this,” I say. “Hockey. School. All of it. I want to be better. But I’m scared I’ll screw it up anyway.” I blow out abreath, squinting at her. “I’m afraid you’ll think you wasted your time on a lost cause.”

Her eyes soften as she shifts a little closer. “You’re not a lost cause, Austin.”

The way she says my name hits somewhere low in my chest.

Her eyes search mine, steady and warm, and the urge to lean in and press my forehead to hers is almost unbearable.

She shifts a little closer. Our knees bump again, and this time, neither of us moves away.

“Plus,” she adds, “Tutoring you has kinda been fun.”

That pulls a grin from me. “Oh yeah?”

She narrows her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late.

It’s already there. In my chest, in my throat. In every breath I take around her.

I study her face. Her eyes. The way the corner of her lip curls up when she’s trying not to smile.

I think about that night in her room. How she didn’t flinch when I fell apart. How she stayed. Just stayed, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And something shifts inside me.

I like her.

I really fucking like her.