Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Georgia leant forward, putting a hand on Erin’s thigh under the table. She stroked her thumb up the grey material, trying to impart some comfort, no matter how small. She could feel the metal discs of a brace under Erin's formal office attire. That didn’t seem like a knee that was fully healed.
“You still brace it?”
Erin huffed a laugh, her hand landing on top of Georgia’s, stilling her wandering fingers. “Not normally.”
She rolled her eyes, sighing. “I slipped on Tuesday while coaching. Twisted it. And the cold at this time of year makes everything ache like I’m eighty.”
Georgia shot her a look. “You didn’t tell me.”
Erin didn’t quite meet her eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“You’re literally wearing a brace,” Georgia said, voice low but steady. “You’re wincing when you move. That feels like a deal.”
Erin’s jaw flexed. “I didn’t want to make a thing of it. You’ve got enough going on without worrying about me too.”
“That’s not how this works,” Georgia said, nudging her leg gently against Erin’s, careful not to jostle it. “You don’t have to ration out the hard stuff just because I’ve got baggage.”
There was a flicker in Erin’s expression, something guarded and vulnerable, and then it was gone, replaced with a wry smile. “Fine. Next time I mildly injure myself in a deeply embarrassing fashion, and I ache like I’m eighty, I will be sure to tell you.”
“I know that feeling,” Georgia said, rolling her neck.
Erin gave Georgia’s hand a tight squeeze, not pulling away. Anchoring. Her thumb brushed Georgia’s knuckles. Once, twice, like she couldn’t help herself.
“You are way too young to understand,” she teased.
“I’m literally almost thirty.”
Erin gave her a look, all mock disdain and hidden softness. “A mere child.”
Georgia’s smile tugged sideways. She glanced down at their hands, still folded together on Erin’s thigh. When she looked back up, Erin was watching her with that same unreadable intensity that always left Georgia breathless.
The air between them stilled, like the quiet before kick-off. Then Erin reached out, fingertips brushing a damp curl of Georgia’s hair back from her temple, tucking it gently behind her ear.
Georgia leaned in. Just enough to give Erin time to lean back, stop her. She didn’t.
The kiss was soft and reverent at first, but then Erin’s hand closed in her hair, tugging her closer. Georgia groaned into the kiss, one hand cupping Erin’s cheek, the other squeezing her thigh.
A child ran past them, screaming, and Georgia jolted backwards.
It was a toddler, face stained blue from the slushie in their hand. The icy drink was spilling from the plastic cup, leaving an incriminatingly neon trail in its wake.
Erin blinked, momentarily stunned, her lips still parted. Georgia rubbed at her temple like she could smudge the ear-splitting scream out of her memory.
The toddler squealed again, now galloping towards the stairs down to the pool viewing gallery with the manic energy of someone who’d discovered both sugar and freedom in the same second.
“Lavender! LAVENDER!” A woman, presumably the child’s mother, skidded round the corner of the coffee shop, jute bag swinging wildly from her shoulder, hair escaping from a once-neat bun. “Lavender, please!”
The escapee, Lavender, screamed again, and ran even faster towards the stairs.
Just before Lavender and the slushie disappeared down the stairwell, her mother swooped down with the efficiency of someone who’d probably done this four times already today.
She hoisted the blue-mouthed gremlin up with ease, carrying her under one arm like an unwilling rugby ball.
“What a tackle,” Erin blew out. “You should get Westcliffe to recruit her.”
Erin and Georgia were silent for a moment, avoiding eye contact, fighting the urge to laugh. When the loose Lavender had been safely corralled and escorted away, Georgia leant forward onto the table, her chin resting on her hand.
Erin turned to her, face pink with more than just suppressed laughter. “So, where were we?”
“About to get interrupted again, probably. Swimming pool’s not exactly the most romantic place for deep chats,” Georgia said with a grin. She let her hand slide into Erin’s, turning to link their fingers together. “Have you got to get home, or would you be up for going somewhere else?”
Erin let out a snort. “Moving to a second location, eh? Very bold.” Her smirk returned, lazy and slow. She leant forward too, dragging the pads of her fingers up Georgia’s exposed forearm. “Looks like the disco swim was the best decision I’ve made all week.”
There was a joke in there. Something crude about swimming, being wet. The thought made heat rush up her neck, no doubt staining her cheeks a blotchy red.
Rachel would make the joke without hesitation, accompany it with a filthy wink. She would have texted it to Matt. Leant into that flirty banter, the surface level attraction.
With Erin, she didn’t have to.
“Best idea I’ve had,” Erin said, her mouth twisting into a smirk, “and I’m not even wet yet.”
Georgia rolled her eyes.
“Pig,” she said, as though she hadn’t been thinking the same thing.