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twenty-five

I wasn’t sure how I knew that Sebastian would be at the field that night.

It was like some intuitive sense inside me, pulling me to him.

After I showered, getting all the grossness of the evening off me, I’d decided to go for a walk without any particular destination in mind.

But when I realized my feet had carried me to the elementary school, I knew that was where he would be.

I came around the long way, walking through the back gates and down the bleachers to watch him on the field.

My flip-flops slapped the bottom of my feet with every step I took down the steps between the bleachers and I wondered at what point Sebastian might hear me.

But, much like when he’d been sitting on the curb a couple of nights ago, he seemed to be lost in his own world, not hearing anything around him.

I came to a stop at the bottom row of the bleachers, leaning against the railing that divided them from the field, and watched him.

I still knew nothing about soccer, though I felt like I should probably learn some more about it if I was going to spend this much time with Sebastian.

Maybe I should ask him to teach me how to play.

I watched him run up and down the field with the ball, doing some funny maneuvers as if he was dodging imaginary opponents.

I wondered if soccer was to him what swimming was to me—a way to relax and unwind, to temporarily forget about life’s problems. Sometimes I struggled to align that with the competitive side of the sport, the need to be better than everyone else in the pool.

Maybe he was the same. I found it funny how obsessed he was with soccer, to the point of coming to play on his own like this, but maybe that was the point—he needed a time to just enjoy the sport without the pressure of everyone watching.

It took him so long to notice me that I began to wonder if he actually did know I was here but was pretending he didn’t because he was happy for me to just watch him play.

But that theory was shot down when he looked over, saw me, did a double take, then tripped over the ball and nearly face-planted.

It was a really graceful move.

He smiled sheepishly as he caught his balance again, then grabbed the ball and jogged over to me, where I was still leaning against the railing.

“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked.

I stuck my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans that I’d changed into after my shower, wanting to get all remnants of the night off me. But, of course, I was still wearing his varsity jacket. That was the one piece of my outfit I wasn’t going to take away yet.

“I wanted to find you,” I said. “We never did finish our conversation in the car.”

“We didn’t?”

I shook my head. “See, you told me all about how you feel about me. But I didn’t get the chance to tell you how I feel about you.”

His face spread into that smile that I loved so much. “Well then, how do you feel about me?”

It had only been less than forty-eight hours ago that I’d stood on this very field and imagined standing on my tiptoes and brushing my lips against his, but so much had changed since then. I dropped down so I could climb under the railing and onto the field, coming to a stop in front of him.

There was no game this time. No camera. No excuse. There was no reason for us to kiss—nothing other than if he really wanted me and I really wanted him.

I didn’t wait. I reached up and curled my fingers into the front of his T-shirt, tugging him closer.

I wasn’t sure if I was the one to close the gap or if he was, but before I knew it, his lips were on mine.

He moved soft and slow, not rushing his way through this, but really taking the time to enjoy it.

The time to let me savour it. My hands slid up his hard chest and shoulders, finally coming to rest behind his neck.

As a swimmer, I was an expert at holding my breath and I put it to good use now, staying in the kiss as long as I could before I needed to pull away for a gasp of air.

But even as I pulled away, I didn’t step back.

I kept my hands on him, desperately needing to hold onto the physical connection between us, and searched his eyes.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking for—regret for leading me on?

But all I saw was a steady gaze staring back at me.

“I guess that’s how I feel,” I said, breathing hard .

“I’m glad we cleared that up,” he murmured.

And I worried again for a second, sure that he was going to step away and tell me that it was over now.

That he took back everything he’d said in the car and we were just friends.

But as if he could read my mind, he ran a finger over my cheek and said, “But just to make sure we’re on the same page… I’m going to kiss you again.”

And he did. Again and again. And I knew, right then and there, that this boy in my arms was my forever. He belonged with me.