Chapter 21
Landon
Present
I’ve wanted to know how it would feel to be kissed by Ainsley Morgan since the moment I laid eyes on her when we were fifteen.
My whole body reacted to her in a way that I’d never felt. My heart raced, my palms got sweaty, and I don’t think I have to explain what happened below my belt as a pubescent teen—at the most inopportune times, might I add.
My friends told me to go for it. Kiss her, and see what happens. But I didn’t just want to kiss Ainsley. I wanted to be kissed by Ainsley. There’s a very big difference. I wanted her to want to kiss me. To feel the way I did, the insatiable need to put her lips on mine.
We masked our feelings with competition, flirting through our rivalry, but little by little, I saw it in her eyes. She felt the same. Until everything fell apart.
But yesterday, seventeen years later, it finally happened.
Ainsley wanted to kiss me.
I saw it. Saw it in the way her lips parted.
The way her eyes zeroed in on my mouth. The flush of her skin, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. But as confident and outspoken as she is, she’s like a scared animal when it comes to intimacy.
She only lets people get so close before she shuts them out.
And I’ve burned her once before, so her guard is all the way up, despite the incredible kiss we shared.
So, I’m giving her some time to sit with it. Let her digest her feelings, and come to me when she’s ready.
And she will be. She just needs some time.
“Delgado, sit down and buckle up.” Ainsley checks off something on her clipboard and tosses it onto the seat beside me. “All right, everyone. You should know how to behave on a bus by now. You know the drill. Get your head in the game and prepare to kick some butt on that field when we arrive.”
The girls cheer, and then break out into their private conversations. Our bus is full, so Ainsley and I are sharing a seat at the front while Quinn and Raymond sit in the back. I asked Quinn to do me a solid and arrange the seating to get me some alone time with Ainsley.
I said she needed time. I didn’t say I’d make it easy on her.
Ainsley slumps into the seat beside me, stuffing her clipboard into her backpack.
Her scent surrounds me, a sugary sweet smell, like vanilla.
She sticks an earbud in her right ear—the side I’m sitting on—and leaves out the left one.
I watch over her shoulder as she selects a playlist on her phone, and hits shuffle.
I dig into my backpack and pull out a bag of Nerds gummy clusters, and set it in her lap. Then, I snag the loose earbud hanging over her chest, and stick it in my ear to listen with her. Taylor Swift’s Are You Ready for It? pounds through the speaker.
Ainsley’s eyes snap to mine, lifting the candy bag. “What’s this?”
I press my index finger to my lips. “Shh, I’m trying to listen.”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the small smile that tugs her lips as she peels open the bag and pops a handful of clusters into her mouth.
Us athletes take road trip snacks very seriously, and she all but broke Patrick’s arm one day when he tried to steal her Nerds.
Phase one of my plan is complete.
Now, on to phase two.
I slip my hand into my pocket, and pull out a beaded bracelet. Taking Ainsley’s hand, I roll the bracelet onto her wrist.
She turns over her arm as she gazes down at the teal and navy beads on either side of the word ADMIRABLE.
“Who made this?” she asks, pulling out the earbud.
“I did.”
Her eyebrows jump. “This is what you were working on yesterday that you wouldn’t show me?”
While the teams were making friendship bracelets in my backyard, I made one of my own. We had to pick one motivational word that best described a teammate. I made one for Shreeya that said FEARLESS, and I made a secret one for Ainsley.
She gazes down at it before those hazel eyes flick to mine. “Why admirable?”
I rest my head against the seat and roll it to face her. “I’ve always admired you. You have tenacity, and confidence, and passion. You’re always fighting for a good cause, and you always stick up for what you believe in.” I hike a shoulder. “I admire the shit out of you, Ainsley Morgan.”
Her eyes bounce between mine before dropping to my mouth.
“Uh-uh.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Not in front of the children.”
She grins and lets her head fall back against the seat. Then she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a bracelet of her own. Without looking, she slips it onto my wrist.
Teal, navy, and white beads for our team colors, and then two words: GOLDEN BOY.
“I know I used to say it like it was a bad thing,” she whispers.
“But truth be told, I admired you too. I was a good player, but I wasn’t a good teammate.
Not like you were. That’s why Coach made you the team captain.
You had the heart and the dedication. You were able to look at the bigger picture, and sacrifice yourself for the good of the team. I was jealous of you in a lot of ways.”
My eyebrows jump, unable to hide my shock. “I never knew you felt that way.”
She nods. “Plus, you have really sexy legs.”
My eyes close as I laugh, warmth seeping into my chest. I knock my knee against hers. “You were looking at a lot more than my legs yesterday.”
“Don’t remind me.” She lowers her voice, her lips brushing against the cusp of my ear. “Otherwise, I’ll have to change my panties again.”
A low grown leaves me and she pops her earbud back in, wearing a triumphant grin on her face.
Oh, yeah. My plan is definitely working.
My nerves kick in once the bus pulls into the school parking lot. My knee bounces, and my lungs constrict, making it difficult to take a deep breath against the pressure in my chest.
Bile churns in my stomach, and sweat beads at the back of my neck.
Fuck.
Ainsley glances at me. “You gonna puke?”
“Yup.”
She shoots up out of the seat and into the aisle. “Go. I’ll distract them.”
The bus driver pulls alongside the curb and kills the engine before swinging open the door. I rush down the stairs and bolt to the back corner of the bus.
Bracing my hands on my knees, I bend forward and dry heave, my stomach attempting to rid itself of the burning acid.
I’ll feel better once I throw up, but until then, my body breaks out in a cold sweat. The world around me spins, and my vision blurs.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I form an O-shape with my lips and pretend I’m sucking air through a straw. In for three, out for three.
One, two, three.
Three, two, one.
Again.
After five of each breath, my nerves settle and the pressure in my chest subsides.
I run through the breathing exercise a few more times, and then the only thing that remains is the knot in my stomach.
My eyes blink open, and I watch as the girls unload from the bus. Quinn and Raymond lead them around the side of the school toward the field.
Bile makes its way up my throat, and I lean over to release it. As I vomit, a hand smooths across my back in soothing circles.
“You’re okay.” Ainsley’s voice is low. “Just breathe.”
I’ve worked through much of my trauma in therapy over the years.
But all of the old feelings come rushing back whenever a game is about to start.
In my head, I know my father isn’t here.
I know I’m not in high school anymore. But my body doesn’t understand logic.
It holds memories deep inside, spiraling around my blood with my DNA.
As much as I loved playing lacrosse, it was the source of so much anxiety.
The pressure to perform, to get noticed, to avoid disappointing my father...
it weighed on me like a ton of bricks making it impossible to escape.
As my stomach settles, I wipe my lips with the back of my hand. “Sorry you had to see that.”
Ainsley scoffs. “Please, don’t apologize for that.” She hands me a cold water bottle. “Here. Drink.”
I fill my mouth swish the water around before spitting it onto the pavement. Then I swallow a few sips. “Thank you. You didn’t have to stay behind with me.”
“I know.” She gives me a light shove. “Come on, puke breath. Let’s go win some games.”
“Go, Shreeya, go!”
Shreeya cuts across the field like a missile, dodging the defenders with confidence.
“Take it all the way down!” Quinn yells.
If Shreeya attempts to pass, it could cause a turnover. We’re tied at the end of the third quarter, so it’s best she shoots for the goal instead.
The girls riding the bench along with the entire varsity team are on their feet, running up the sideline with Shreeya to cheer her on. I know she’s nervous to take control, but the adrenaline will override it.
“You’ve got this, Shreeya,” Ainsley calls. “Shoot it!”
She has an opening, but it’s closing fast. She needs to make the play. Now.
She shoots as the defenders descend on her. My heart pounds and I hold my breath.
Then goalie’s net rustles in the top left corner. The buzzer pierces through the air, followed by the announcer’s voice over the speaker. “Goal, Breakwater.”
Shreeya’s first goal.
I pump my fist overhead. “Yes!”
Her teammates jump on her, and pride swells in my chest. Quinn slaps her palm against mine, a proud smile on her face as well.
Before I know what’s happening, Ainsley slams into me and wraps her arms around my neck. “She did it.”
I stumble backward as I laugh, steadying the both of us. “Yeah, she did.”
It feels good to be on the same team, so to speak. To celebrate together. Maybe Ainsley will start to realize that this isn’t a competition. That JV and varsity should work together.
That she and I can drop the baggage we’ve carried, and start over.
My team ends up losing the game in the final quarter, but we were only down one point.
“With the way you all played today, I’m not concerned with points.” I glance around the group, looking into each pair of eyes. “Take this loss as a lesson: The most important thing is that you gave it your best, and left it all on the field. Be proud of the plays you made and the shots you took.”
We pile our hands as I shout, “Ospreys on three. One, two, three, Ospreys!”
After everyone packs up, we head back to the bus. Though we lost, varsity won their first game tonight and the girls are excited, both teams chatting and intermixing.
I nudge Ainsley’s shoulder. “Nice game, Coach.”
She bites back a smile. “Thanks. Hopefully the win will keep parents off my back for a while.”
“Forget them.” I glance behind us at a couple of dads chatting on the way to the parking lot. “Do you enjoy coaching?”
Her chin jerks back. “Of course, I do.”
“Then that’s what matters. Success is measured by the joy you feel doing what you love.”
She arches a brow as the corner of her lips curve into a smirk. “Did you get that quote off an inspirational calendar?”
“A fortune cookie, actually.”
Her head tilts back as a laugh bubbles out of her. “You’re an idiot.”
“An idiot who made you laugh.” I shoot her a wink, and there’s that pink tinge creeping into her cheeks. “Wanna sit together on the bus again?”
Her nose scrunches. “What are we, in high school?”
I hold out my arms and gesture to the scene around us. “We kind of are.”
She rolls her eyes as she climbs onto the bus ahead of me.
But she sits with me anyway.
With our legs pressed together in the narrow seat, we sit in comfortable quiet for the first half of the ride. Then Ainsley breaks the silence.
“What happened between us can’t happen again.” Her eyes are closed, her head back against the seat.
I knew she felt that way, but hearing it doesn’t make it any easier.
I side-eye her. “Can I ask why?”
Her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breath. “It was impulsive. I don’t want anything to get in the way of our jobs.”
“So, don’t let it.”
Hazel eyes meet mine with the slight turn of her head. “It’ll make things difficult having to work together every single day like this.”
I hike a shoulder. “Or it’ll make it more fun.”
A small smile tugs at her mouth. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Who says I am?”
She purses her lips, giving me a knowing look. “You saying you’d be okay with me messing around with other people?”
On instinct, my eyebrows snap together, and she chuckles. “Didn’t think so.”
It’s quiet again before she says, “Let’s just work on being friends.”
She’s making excuses, trying to take control of the situation, and I let her.
For now.
I know Ainsley better than she thinks I do—sometimes better than she knows herself. Letting her think she’s in control is how to get her to play along.
But this is one game I’m not losing.