Page 30

Twenty-Eight

I stand on one leg, stretching my quad in the middle of this field, Red Tail uniform on. It’s game day.

Fran is in the stands, with a few thousand others, but she’s in her spot, front row, right next to the team tunnel that leads to the locker room. We play the Rain City Rovers today, and while I’m confident in the win, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy she could make the game.

Casually, I glance up into the stands. She’s next to Rosalie, peering out—not at me but the field in general. Her cheeks swell in a grin, and while she looks pretty in her cream-colored shirt and jeans, I really need to get her some Red Tail gear.

“Is that a tattoo?” Zev says, staring at my ankle.

My sock has slipped down an inch, and the pink ‘G’ of “Girl” is showing through.

Why did I wait to put on my game socks? That makes no sense—and yet today, I chose to wait until after warmups.

Have I ever done that before? Do I subconsciously want Zev to see my ingrained Fran tattoo?

The one that will not wash off, no matter how many days it’s been or how hard I scrub?

No—I don’t. Lucca sat down by me, though, and I didn’t really want to change socks in front of him. He would have noticed my “Girl Power” ink immediately.

“No, it’s not,” I bark at Zev, who is still waiting for an answer, then switch legs.

“I think it is. Let me see it.”

I frown at Zev. “No,” I scoff.

“Why are you in those short socks anyway?”

“My game socks are in the locker room. Since when do you care when I put on my socks?”

“Don’t make me call Lucca over.”

I roll my eyes—but I’m just enough afraid that he’ll do it. “Fran and I had some fun the other night. Okay?”

Zev snorts. “As in, you got a pink tattoo that reads ‘Girl Power’?”

All the easiness I am supposed to be feeling with Fran in the stands is dissipating—thanks to Zev. I clench my jaw and pause my stretch. “If you knew, why’d you ask?”

“Just to see what you’d say.” He grins—wide and obnoxious.

“Mira should dump you. And it’s a stick-on. So, simmer down, and don’t tell Lucca.”

Zev laughs. “I haven’t seen Mira since our fishing trip.”

“No? Why not?”

Zev shrugs, but his eyes drag over to where Fran and Rosalie sit. “Is Fran coming to the team dinner?” Zev asks beside me.

I skirt my gaze from the girl—unsure suddenly which one of us looked in her direction first. “What? Why? Why would she do that?”

“I just thought you might invite her. It’s for friends and family.”

“Are you bringing a girl?”

“Pretty sure we just established that I don’t have a girl. While you do.”

“Right.” I laugh like he’s being funny.

But Zev chuckles right back. “You could invite her. We all appreciate her service to the team.”

I smirk and shake my head. Though to myself, I can admit Fran’s gotten me out of my own head. I have been playing better since I met the girl, since we’ve become friends, since we started “dating” to help one another.

“If Franny doesn’t come, neither will I,” Lucca says—behind us. Great. Has he been eavesdropping this entire time? That’s so Lucca. “You with me, Graves?” He points to Roman beside him. But the Graveyard just grunts, making it clear he doesn’t care what Lucca or Fran does.

“See?” Lucca says to me, that female slaying smile on his face. The girls just can’t refuse Lucca Cruz.

But I sure can.

“It’s official, Zev. She isn’t coming. That way we can get rid of Cruz as well.”

Zev laughs with me while Lucca slaps a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“That hurts, Superman.”

My watch pings—warm-up is over, and Coach will want us back in the locker room for a quick pep talk before our game. Time to hide in a corner and change my socks.

I clap my hands together twice, and loud enough for the team to hear, then point to the team tunnel and locker room entrance.

The guys start out, and I enter in the middle of the pack.

We jog over the green grass, and my eyes, like a striker to the net, find Fran.

She’s leaning against the short advertisement wall that separates her from the field.

She stands just a couple measly cement steps above us, waving to the team, that relentless smile on her face.

A few of the guys pause on the grass in front of her.

I can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but Lucca is making her laugh.

My muscles tense at the sight, and a rush of heat runs through my veins—for some reason I really feel like punching someone.

That someone being Lucca. That guy needs to get over himself.

“Franny,” he’s saying, “are you ready to give us our good luck kiss?”

I’m not sure what possess me, but I step in front of him. “Us?”

Lucca just laughs. “Go on, then.”

I shake my head and look up to Fran smiling down at me, hair whipping in the breeze. My jaw clenches with my forced grin, and I hope my face conveys my apology.

“Sorry,” I tell her. “These guys?—”

But I don’t get to finish my sentence because my very level-headed, very sane best friend yells from behind, “Come on, Cap. We don’t have all day. Kiss the girl.”

I glare back at him and return to my still-smiling Fran. She hasn’t said a word yet.

“These guys,” I say again.

“It’s all part of the deal, right?” she says. “Lucky charm and all?”

“Is it?” I say, but my lips are tingling, my heart is pounding. I want that kiss. It’s possible I need that kiss.

“Cap. Today,” Zev calls.

I swear, when I get a red card this game, it won’t be because I ran down the opposing team, but my own best friend.

“It’s fine,” Fran says, and a stray of chestnut hair whips over her face.

I lift up on the cement step, meeting her eye to eye, and tuck that strand of hair behind one ear. Fran cups a hand to my cheek, her lips, as red as a rose, turn up at the corners. Her amber eyes twinkle before winking closed.

I pull in a breath and stare at the girl in front of me for three seconds—eyes closed, lips ready, breaths even.

Tuning out the crowd, I touch my lips to Fran’s.

A familiar and electric softness presses gently back as our breaths mingle into one.

Threading one hand around her back, I hold her closer.

A loud whistle sounds from the crowd of fans, releasing the hold I have on her and the spell Fran has possibly cast on me. The kiss was soft, chaste, and much too short. It leaves me hungry and wondering how in the world I’ll be able to go out and play a decent game today.