13. Then
13
THEN
As Jack ran across the football pitch, the wind plastered his jersey against his chest. Footie always felt like an escape, a hobby with no strings or expectations. He could clear his mind and push his body until he was exhausted. But today, in addition to Jack’s parents in the stands—handing out mince pies to Kieran and Chels as usual—Brooke was here.
Outside of class, Jack hadn’t seen her in the two weeks since their swim and he was lightheaded from this development, from the giddy rush of finding her attention on him every time he chanced a look over. He could barely even worry about what his parents might be saying to her, he was so aware of his every movement and if Brooke was noticing him.
She wore a navy blue University of Edinburgh hoodie with the white crest on the front and what looked suspiciously like a red University of Edinburgh scarf. No one cared much for football unless it was the Premiership, but she looked straight out of an American movie waving one of his mum’s plastic pom-poms.
“After a much-improved display from Glasgow, the points are shared with nine minutes remaining ’til the half,” Kieran called in a booming announcer voice from the bottom bleacher. “Deacon Barr is running boldly through the Glasgow defense as they scramble to defend their goalkeep. Out by Barr to Rohan Kelton. Oh! A near miss, but poorly defended.”
Jack stole the ball from a brute of a Glasgow player and passed back to Rohan, who sent the ball flying into the goal.
“It’s all the way through!” Kieran yelled. Rohan charged into Jack, lifting him off the ground as Kieran continued shouting, “It’s got in! He’s done it again. He’s superhuman! At only twenty-two years of age, this is Rohan Kelton’s fifth goal this season. And Uni takes the lead.”
“Listen to that brotherly support,” Jack said as he pushed out of Rohan’s sweaty embrace.
A familiar high-pitched whistle pulled Jack’s attention to the stands where his dad stomped his feet on the bleachers and whistled again with two fingers in his mouth. Gemma whipped a pom-pom above her head. Jack gave Brooke a sheepish smile and a helpless shrug, an apology for his parents. She beamed at him like she’d seen a planet through a telescope for the first time, and his chest filled with fire. His vision went a little blurry at the edges, his head light.
He realized he was lingering at the sideline again while the game rushed on around him. Running back into the fray, the wind chilly where it sifted through his damp hair, Jack dodged a Glasgow player, heading straight for the ball.
“Go, Jack!” Brooke called. She was standing up, hands cupped around her mouth, beautiful, light eyes trained on him.
And then the air was knocked from Jack’s lungs, his knee twisted in sharp pain, and he was flat on his back, the thud reverberating over the field.
* * *
Jack shifted on the locker room bench, his foot propped up on a plastic chair, and took the ice pack off his knee. The joint throbbed but he couldn’t find a towel to buffer the cold and his skin was screaming in protest.
He heard a voice down the hallway. “Jack?”
It was a woman’s voice. Not his mother’s, who’d already been in here. It was American and sweet and sounded an awful lot like Brooke.
His heart dashed away with the thought, so affected by her that he’d completely forgotten he was in the middle of that field, hadn’t even seen the defender rushing him until he was on his back. He’d take the hit again to see Brooke calling out his name, all her attention on him.
He’d known from their initial spark that her presence in his space was more than mere happenstance. Couldn’t attribute it only to her love of swimming or cake or a strong addiction to coffee, which explained why she was always at the coffee cart before their lecture. But turning up to his game and charming his parents—if Gemma’s knowing glance when she mentioned how lovely his friends were was anything to go by. Coming to find him now?
Brooke fancied him right back. And Jack couldn’t do a damn thing to act on it.
He wouldn’t risk raising conduct concerns because of the nonfraternization policy, or his standing at the university, or her reputation.
She stood in the doorway, concern etched around her blue eyes. “Hey. How’re you doing?”
“Better.” Now that you’re here , he wanted to say. He couldn’t help the wide grin taking over his face.
“What kind of drugs do they have you on?” she asked, like she could tell his smile was out of the ordinary. Too big. Too fast.
“Adrenaline and victory.”
Brooke walked into the room, stepping over gym bags, stray shirts, and a tipped-over shoe. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
“I’ll have to work on my focus before my Premiership tryout,” he said, brushing it off. But their eyes locked, a heavy moment between them like they both knew exactly why he’d been unfocused.
“Glad to hear this injury hasn’t put your dreams out of sight.” She trailed a finger over the swollen curve of his knee. “It looks bad.”
Jack sucked in a breath as goose bumps broke out across his skin. Brooke looked up and probably noticed the way he’d stopped breathing because her eyes went wide and she snatched her hand back. “Sorry, did that hurt?”
He swallowed past the knot in his throat and shook his head, still not trusting his voice. Her touch didn’t hurt but it was certainly torture, her fingertips flirting with the hem of his shorts. “No, the cold feels good.”
Brooke laid the backs of her fingers on his swollen knee, her touch pastel soft, their eye contact stealing his breath again.
Jack had memorized the shape of Brooke in his peripheral vision, the curve of her cheek, the sway of her hips, the golden brown tint of her hair piled on top of her head. He was so used to learning the edges of her, one glance at a time, that looking at her now, not worrying if anyone was noticing him staring, was a relief and also somewhat overwhelming.
She pulled her hand away, her chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “Speaking of dreams…”
Jack tried to remember what they’d even been talking about before her touch.
“Making any progress on our pact?”
He had, actually. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up, to proclaim it to the world, in case it all turned out to be nothing after all. He gave a half-hearted shrug, hoping the nonchalance disguised his reaction to her touch.
“I nearly died in the ocean for you.” She threw her hands out as she spoke, her eyebrows shooting up in indignation before a playful smile took over her features.
Watching her was like a lightning storm. No matter where he looked, there was something equally as lovely lighting up just outside his focus.
“Alright.” He held up his hands. “I am…sitting in on a photography class.” He said it like he was confessing, this thing he couldn’t quite claim. “It’s not even for credit,” he rushed to add, but he wanted Brooke to know he was trying.
Her eyes shone like fairy lights and it was all the reward he’d ever wanted. “That’s amazing.”
A reckless hope swept through him. And that deep fear he harbored—that he’d find something he loved and not be able to have it—felt a little less daunting with Brooke shining a light on it. Like maybe if he just trusted enough, he wouldn’t have to watch it slip through his fingers.
But her attention on him felt like too much. His feelings were too new to articulate. “So you met my parents?” Jack said instead, covering his face with his hands out of potential embarrassment. “Did they tell you endless stories about Scotland? And feed you?” He peeked out between his fingers.
“Both of those things, yes. Did you know the national animal of Scotland is a unicorn?”
Jack groaned but couldn’t quite make it believable when Brooke smiled at him like that. “My dad is the worst .”
“You might consider that not all parents would come to a varsity soccer game.”
“Intermural football,” he corrected quietly because he wasn’t quite sure what to do with Brooke’s discernment about his parents. He should keep his distance. Shouldn’t feel so desperate to share all his deepest fears and hopes for the relief of telling someone who understood.
Brooke sat on the wooden bench and scooted in close. “All I mean is that maybe they aren’t so bad.”
He replaced the ice pack on his knee with a wince. “They’re not bad. I didn’t mean to give that impression. They just have such a vision of what my life should look like and it’ll break their hearts if I don’t follow through.”
“Here.” Brooke unwound her red scarf and wrapped it around the ice pack. “It seemed to me like they’d support you no matter what. Maybe even photography.”
Jack shrugged and took the ice pack from her, settling it on his knee. “Might be.”
A random memory floated through his mind and he grinned. “You know, they did support my budding photography career early on. We went on a trip when I was five or thereabouts and they’d given me an old camera. I was taking a steady stream of pictures of Loch Oich and dropped the camera straight in the water. While I was blubbering on and on and my parents were busy consoling me, this young guy on his honeymoon ripped off his shirt and jumped into the loch to save it for me. He dove down and reemerged triumphantly with the camera in his hand. Little did he—or I—know, there was no actual film in the camera.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard! They didn’t even give you film!”
“Eventually they trusted me with it. I never loved guiding and I wasn’t naturally outgoing like Logan, so my dad would have me take photos on the trips. It was the only time I felt like a part of the family business and not on the outside with them. It’s not their fault. I’m just not exactly what they wanted.”
Brooke looked away but her eyes returned to his, soft and unguarded. “I don’t see how anyone could feel that way about you.”
He clenched his hand into a fist to keep himself from reaching for her but his teammates interrupted the moment before his resolve crumbled, their shouts ringing out down the locker room hallway, and Brooke stood up. “I should probably go.”
Jack nodded and cleared his throat. “I’d walk you home, but…” He gestured to his currently prone figure. “Rain check?”
“Dangerous country for those,” Brooke said.
He should nod and leave it at that. Let her walk away. Put a stop to whatever hope shone in her gaze. But he couldn’t seem to do the right thing. “Sun check, then.”
She gave him a blinding smile and disappeared out the door.