Page 5

Four

The slivered moon sits behind a cloud tonight, so the only thing lighting up my teammates’ faces is this Reno streetlamp.

We have an hour drive back to Lake Tesoro, and I’m tired.

But we don’t have practice until four tomorrow, and the boys are pretty content to make fools of themselves tonight.

Singing, dancing, and behaving like overgrown children.

It may be due to the fact that some of our teammates are technically children.

Wade turned nineteen just last week. Which is why he isn’t here tonight.

“It’s Cal’s turn,” Lucca says.

“Nah,” I say. “If I’d wanted to make a fool of myself, I would have sung karaoke like a clown.”

“Hey now,” Sawyer says. “I was one of those clowns.” Sawyer isn’t actually offended at my jab; our new goalie fits right in with the rest of our Red Tail family.

“And you were great, Kincaid.” Maverick slaps a hand on Sawyer’s back. “Whitaker’s just jealous.” Maverick Monroe calls everyone by their last name—in fact, I’m not sure he remembers anyone’s actual first name .

“So jealous,” I mock.

“What are the odds we get ol’ Captain Cal here to do something a little unexpected tonight?” Lucca says. “He didn’t sing karaoke. I’m not sure he even took one drink of his beer.”

I didn’t. I don’t drink in season. They shouldn’t either. Besides, the guys forced me to go out with them tonight. They’re calling it a “So long, Simone” celebration. Good riddance, and let’s party. If that’s the case, it’s overdue. The woman left a month ago.

Maybe I should have tried harder to enjoy myself. I did appreciate the act from that little brunette—she was entertaining. I mean, until her boyfriend broke up with her on stage. Poor thing. That hit a little too close to home.

“Come on, Cap,” Lucca says. The man loves to hear himself speak.

“We have practice tomorrow, and it’s—” I peer down at my watch, but it’s only ten-thirty. When did I become the bore of the party and such an old man?

Lucca laughs. “Okay, Callum’s betting against himself. Anyone up for betting on him? He just has to do one thing— anything . Something unexpected, something out of the blue, something non-Cal and anti-Simone.”

I flutter my eyes in a childish roll. Though I might be the only grown-up here tonight. “How old are you, Lucca?”

“You’re changing the subject. Is that because you know you’ll fail? No spontaneity for our captain,” Lucca says.

“It’s not about that. I could if I wanted to?—”

“Are you switching your bet, then?” Lucca says.

Before I can speak, Zev slaps a twenty-dollar bill into Lucca’s palm. “I’d bet on Callum any day. There’s a reason he’s our captain. ”

Say what? I wasn’t planning to do anything. According to Lucca, I bet against myself. Did Zev miss that?

“I’ll bet on Cal.” Sawyer takes out his wallet.

“Whoa,” I say. “I’m not even sure what we’re betting on.” I shake my head, looking at the five teammates around me.

“Something,” Lucca says, his words slow and melodic in that slight Brazilian accent of his. “ Unexpected .”

“Me too.” Maverick smacks his bill into Lucca’s hand. “I’m betting on Whitaker.”

Reed follows suit.

“Finally, we’ve got a party.” Lucca laughs, holding up the bills in his hand.

“No offense, mighty captain, but the odds aren’t in their favor.

You said so yourself.” He winks at me. “If you guys win, I return your money and double it. If I win, I take the cash for myself.” Lucca’s dark brows bounce.

The others nod.

Why are they agreeing to this?

And how can I let any of them down?

“Okay, Cap.” Lucca holds out his arms. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Give me the unexpected.”

“Sixty seconds?” I spout, peering at the circle of my teammates.

“Fifty-eight,” Lucca says.

I spin, looking around the outside of the bar. Something unexpected? What am I supposed to do? What outcome are they looking for?

“Forty-nine,” Lucca says. He’s not helping. What do these guys want from me?

I walk to the left, then the right. But I’m not sure what to do with what I’ve been given—a block of sidewalk, a bar door, a few cars on the street.

And then— she walks out .

The little brunette who sang tonight. Okay, a lot of girls sang tonight. But this one chose to sing next to a guy who should be signed by Sony. And when she didn’t meet his standards, he attempted to cut her off. They basically broke up on stage. He told her she sucked—in front of the entire crowd.

Her night might be going worse than mine.

“Thirty-eight seconds left,” Lucca says.

There’s nothing else.

Only her.

So, I let the faces of my team blur behind me and step in front of the girl. I clear my throat. “Hi,” I say, heart thumping. This isn’t normal for me. Which I suppose is the point. But talking to a stranger on the street—one not asking for a Red Tails autograph—is out of my comfort zone.

“Hi,” she says, and despite her lousy night, the right side of her mouth lifts in a crooked grin.

Which makes me smile in return.

I clear my throat, hearing Lucca count down inside my head.

“Nice song,” I say. I swallow and think… unexpected . I drop my gaze to her mouth and give it a second… She doesn’t back up. She doesn’t run. She doesn’t ask any questions. In fact, her eyes fall to my mouth in return.

Huh. Unexpected for certain.

“Have you ever kissed a stranger?” I ask.

“Never,” she says, her sparkling honey eyes lifting to mine.

The woman, whose name I do not know, leans in—toward me. She’s moving in on me.

And that’s when I make my move.

Wrapping one hand behind her head, I press my lips to hers—soft and easy. But this girl, this stranger—she’s in it to win it. Her lips don’t mash against me like grass beneath a cleat. No, they mold to my mouth like a harmonious song, two voices in synchronization, intimate and eager.

We’re already deep into the unexpected, so I go with it, my hands cupping her face.

And for six seconds, I forget that we’re strangers on the street, that my team is watching this encounter—actually hooting and hollering in the background.

I forget that she just broke up with someone on stage, and that I know nothing about her.

Besides, I understand the ache of ending a relationship, even when calling it quits is right.

Maybe this kiss is somehow healing the both of us.

I breathe her in, sweet and sensual. Tingles run through all of my nerve endings, my body warming.

She doesn’t pull away. She never makes a move to slap my face. And while I did watch for signs of consent, she’s turned my peck into a show. Still, I’m the one who approached her. A stranger. And I probably deserve to be slapped.

Finally—I pull back, separating the two of us. As if she were tipsy, her body continues to gravitate toward mine, though I didn’t taste any alcohol on her. Her eyes blink open as a small, sweet moan escapes her.

I clear my throat, at once very aware of the situation I’ve put us in. At the team still hooting around us. I nod and pull in a breath through my nose before patting her upper arm. “Great job, tonight.” I step backward, put two feet of space between us, and zip shut my freshly kissed lips.