Chapter Four #3
Her fingers had closed around his wrist.
Neither of them moved.
From the sideline, Amanda called, “That one was necessary.”
Meagan stepped away so quickly she nearly lost her balance again.
Aaron caught her elbow.
Amanda laughed.
“Stop keeping track,” Meagan said.
“I made one observation.”
“One too many.”
Aaron’s mouth curved.
Meagan turned toward the net.
“We have two points left.”
“Right.”
His voice sounded slightly rougher.
They won eleven to nine.
The final point began with a serve from Aaron and ended with Luke sending a hard return toward the back corner.
Meagan ran.
The line approached faster than she expected.
She lunged, one arm beneath the ball, and lifted it just enough.
Aaron sprinted behind her and set it toward the net.
Sandra waited for his attack.
Aaron did not attack.
He sent the ball high behind him.
Toward Meagan.
She pushed herself up and ran.
She reached the ball on her last step and drove it into the open court.
The ball hit sand.
Tyler blew the whistle.
“Game.”
Meagan stared at the mark the ball had left.
Aaron reached her first.
“You did it!”
“We did it!”
His smile widened.
“Yes!”
He caught her around the waist and lifted her.
The movement was so unexpected that a laugh escaped before she could stop it.
Her hands landed on his shoulders.
Aaron turned once, holding her securely above the sand.
Meagan laughed again.
Not politely. Not carefully.
The sound came free and bright and entirely unlike the version of herself she had been managing for years.
Aaron stopped moving.
He looked up at her. His smile softened.
Meagan’s laughter faded.
She became aware of everything at once.
His hands at her waist. Her arms around his shoulders. The sunlight along his face. The color of his eyes.
Neither of them spoke.
Aaron lowered her slowly.
Her feet touched the sand.
His hands remained at her waist.
Meagan’s hands remained on his shoulders.
The court came back into focus. Amanda was silent and that was alarming.
Aaron’s gaze dropped briefly to Meagan’s mouth.
Her breath caught.
Rule four.
No kissing unless absolutely necessary.
There was nothing necessary about the moment.
That did not stop her from wondering what would happen if neither of them remembered the rule.
Tyler cleared his throat near the net.
Aaron’s hands loosened and Meagan stepped back.
“Winning point,” he said.
His voice sounded slightly rougher.
“It was a casual game.”
“Still counts.”
The familiar words warmed her.
Luke approached and offered Meagan his hand. “Nice shot.”
She shook it. “Your serve was difficult.”
“You adjusted.”
“She does that,” Aaron said.
Meagan looked at him. There was pride in his voice.
Not exaggerated.
Not performative.
Simple pride.
As though her success belonged entirely to her and still made him happy.
Sandra shook her hand next. “You two play together often?”
“No,” Meagan said.
At the same time, Aaron said, “First time.”
Sandra looked between them. “Really?”
“Yes,” Meagan replied.
Aaron picked up the volleyball. “We’re quick learners.”
Amanda arrived at the court with Hailey behind her.
Hailey held her phone.
Meagan looked at it. “What did you do?”
“I took one picture.”
“I agreed to one picture at the gala.”
“The rule did not specify.”
“It absolutely implied.”
Hailey turned the screen toward her.
The photograph had captured the moment immediately after the final point.
Aaron held Meagan above the sand, his arms around her waist. Her hands rested on his shoulders, her head tipped back as she laughed.
He was looking at her. Not at the court. Not at the people cheering.
At her.
His expression carried no amusement at the situation.
Only warmth.
Pride.
Something deeper Meagan refused to identify in front of an audience.
The image looked intimate.
Not staged. Not fake. But happy.
Meagan stared at it too long.
Hailey lowered the phone. “I’ll send it to you.”
“That is unnecessary.”
“I’d like a copy,” Aaron said.
Meagan’s head snapped toward him.
“Why?”
His gaze remained on the photograph.
“Because you look happy.”
Her pulse stumbled.
“It was an athletic celebration.”
“Of course,” Amanda said.
Meagan gave her a warning look.
Amanda lifted both hands and stepped back.
Jack joined them, brushing sand from one shoulder.
“You two looked good.”
“We won two volunteer games.”
“Luke and Sandra won the Thursday league last season,” Jack said.
Meagan paused.
She looked at Aaron.
He put on his sunglasses.
“You neglected to mention that.”
“I said they played in the Thursday league.”
“You did not say they won.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I was not worried.”
“You were assessing.”
“That is different.”
Aaron’s mouth curved.
Hailey sent the photograph.
Meagan’s phone buzzed from beneath the chair.
Then Aaron’s.
He looked at the screen. His expression softened.
Meagan became aware of Amanda watching them. She did not need another comment. The picture already said too much.
Aaron slipped his phone into his pocket and picked up the volleyball.
“Anyone want another game?”
Amanda stepped forward. “I do.”
Jack followed her. “Against me?”
“With you.”
“That changed quickly.”
“I’ve decided relationships should be collaborative.”
Meagan barely heard them.
Aaron moved toward the court.
The distance between them should have made breathing easier.
It did not.
Hailey touched Meagan’s arm.
“You okay?”
“Of course.”
Hailey waited.
Meagan looked toward the picture still displayed on her phone.
The woman in the image did not look tired.
Or useful.
Or responsible for ensuring everyone else had a good time.
She looked happy because Aaron had lifted her into his arms.
Because they had won together.
Because he had trusted her with the final point.
Meagan locked the screen.
“I’m playing again.”
Hailey smiled. “Good.”
Meagan stepped onto the court.
Aaron looked over his shoulder.
His expression warmed immediately.
“You’re staying?”
“For one more game.”
“Only one?”
“I reserve the right to evaluate.”
“Of course.”
She took her position beside him. Not behind him. Not somewhere he could protect her from every difficult serve.
Beside him.
Aaron tossed her the ball.
Meagan caught it.
Amanda adjusted her sunglasses on the other side of the net.
“You know,” she called, “that picture is going to make the gala story very easy to sell.”
Meagan bounced the ball once.
She could have argued.
Reminded everyone that the arrangement was temporary.
Insisted the photograph meant nothing.
Instead, she looked at Aaron.
He bent slightly at the knees, ready for her serve.
Waiting.
Trusting.
Her partner.
“Serve,” he said.
The word moved through her differently now.
Meagan faced the net.
She tossed the ball into the air and struck it cleanly.
The serve sailed over Amanda’s head and landed just inside the back line.
Point.
Aaron laughed behind her.
Meagan turned.
He held out one hand.
She slapped her palm against his.
His fingers caught hers for one brief second before releasing them.
Necessary touching.
Probably.
Meagan moved back to the service line, smiling despite every effort not to.
The rules were still intact.
Technically.
The problem was no longer that Aaron might be pretending too well.
The problem was that, beside him, Meagan had stopped wanting to pretend at all.