Chapter Thirty Two
The sunlight hits differently today. Soaking into my skin instead of feeling like an insult, bouncing off my broodiness.
I can’t tell if it’s the last push of warmth before autumn fully settles, or because I woke up wrapped in Thiago’s arms instead of tangled in the remnants of a nightmare. Either way, I’ll take it.
My shoulder bumps into his as we walk through campus, completely at ease in each other’s presence. I keep expecting my phone to buzz in my pocket with a cheeky message or dumb meme, and that when I blink back up, Thiago’s mirage will have faded. But the buzz doesn’t come, and he doesn’t disappear.
“So you painted. Like, with actual paint?” Thiago reiterates, equally amused and disbelieving. He probably would have believed I’d jumped out of a plane easier. The grin stretches across my face and I bump his shoulder again.
“Why would I lie about something like that?,” I scoff, sinking my hands into my jacket pockets.
“I went into the studio, grabbed some paint, put on my headphones and let loose. It was terrible, but it was my first time trying. I just had the urge to put something on that damn canvas today, so I did.”
Thi’s head nods, a small noise coming from his throat.
His hand swings loosely by his side, brushing mine every few steps, like neither of us has quite decided if we’re holding hands or not.
There are eyes everywhere, bodies lingering on stone walls and outside of lecture halls.
A light breeze rolls by, but any hopes that Thiago has dropped the subject are quickly dashed.
“Do you have a picture?” he asks. My eyes widen, a small stammer in my steps giving me away.
Thi’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.
“Oh, you do! Let me see!” I twist away as he lunges for my jacket, his hands slipping underneath to tickle my ribs.
I squeal, jerking around like a fish on dry land, trying to shoulder barge him aside.
It’s no use and in the spirit of not causing any more of a scene, I offer out my phone.
“Don’t laugh, okay? I’m shy,” I admit, whilst Thiago makes a face that suggests I’m anything but shy.
He flashes my screen at my face to unlock it, and immediately locates the image.
I don’t know why I even took it, some lost hope that if I looked back upon it later, it might look a little better than I remembered.
Thiago’s reaction, however, squashes that hope in an instant.
“Hey, it’s not that bad!” Attempting to grab my phone, Thi holds it out of reach, his entire body jerking as streams of hysterics leave him. Infuriatingly, he manages to keep me at bay with only his forearm, his eyes welling with tears. “I told you not to laugh!”
“I’m not,” Thi wheezes, bending away to hold his side. Jumping across him, I grab his neck and reach to snatch my phone back. Thi’s shoulders are still shaking, the back of his hand trying to muffle the dying fragments of laughter.
“Asshole,” I mutter. In an instant, his arms wind around my back, pinning me into him. His chest is firm, his biceps caging and not letting me wriggle free. I turn my head away from his wide grin, although his glee is infectious. Damn him.
“I can see that last night left quite the impression on you,” he nudges my jaw with his nose and grins the smuggest grin I’ve ever seen. I roll my eyes. He’s not wrong, but Thiago doesn’t need any more inflation on his ego.
“It was more this morning when you overslept. I had to beat you with a pillow to wake you up, and then wrestle you to get dressed. All that frantic energy had to go somewhere.”
A rumble passes through his chest, his blue eyes becoming heated, roaming over the low V in my tee.
It’s from the pile he provided for me, along with the loose army-green cargo pants I’m wearing.
I barely questioned how he knew my sizes, given that the everyday bra is both flattering and ultra-comfortable.
I simply accept that Thiago knows me, and he cares enough to make sure I’m cared for.
“I can’t help it,” Thiago’s hands settle on my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Covering this beauty of a body would be a crime.”
“Walking around indecent is a crime,” I shoot back, my brow raised. Thi presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth and then tilts his head to look at the phone in my hand once more. This time, he assesses, concealing his reaction with an appreciative nod.
“You know, if you tilt your head and squint your eyes, it kinda looks like a duck wearing a monocle.” He does his best to sound appraising. I shove him a step away, putting up back on the path towards the stadium. His fingers intertwine with mine instantly.
“That’s the last time I’m showing you anything. Art is about expression, you know.”
“Forgive me, Amorzinha. I’m simply so uncultured,” he mocks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.
My cheeks ache from the smile I’m trying to withhold, and he knows it.
I exhale, quietly aware that I haven’t felt this way in a long time.
With Thi, it’s natural. He took the time to understand me before he inserted himself into my life, watching on and learning what I needed.
I reckon he knows me better than I do, not that I’d admit it.
We approach the stadium, and the giddiness in my chest shifts.
The stadium rises ahead of us like a different world entirely, its looming structure casting long shadows across the path as if warning me what waits inside.
It’s strange how quickly the atmosphere shifts, the lightness of our walk becoming charged, the closer we get.
In my head, anyway. At the side, the gates are wide open, presenting flashes of green turf.
There’s a distant echo of sticks clashing, and voices carrying with a competitive mirth.
I slow at the entrance, the giddiness in my chest shifting.
“Are you sure you want to watch practice? It’s not very entertaining, and there’s no telling what mood Everest will be in today.
” I wince. I’d kinda hoped Thiago would shrug and convince me to skip practice altogether, offering to whisk me away for something else.
Anything else. Instead, he glances at me sideways and winks.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replies easily, but there’s a trace of protectiveness beneath the humor now. Perhaps there’s a reason he feels the need to accompany me after all. “It’s about time I saw you in your element.”
My stomach flips, nerves tangling with a thread of excitement.
Lacrosse has always been my thing, my crowning glory.
At least it was, before I felt like I’ve got something to prove every time I step onto that field.
Thi unshoulders the large gym bag he’s been carrying for me, holding out the strap like an offering. I hesitate taking it.
“I should warn you,” I add, lifting a brow as I glance up at him, “we’re a mess right now. There’s no teamwork or trust. Just a bunch of overcompetitive idiots trying to outshine each other.” My lips twitch despite myself. “Including me.” Thiago hums in thought
“Sounds entertaining. I’ll grab a front row seat then.
” He gives my fingers a squeeze and then guides me towards the stadium doors.
I enter alone, heading to the locker room while Thiago rounds the building to the stands.
I can’t imagine what Everest’s reaction to seeing him will be, and with that thought in mind, I change into my jersey and leggings in record time.
Jogging out onto the pitch, the soft give of artificial turf cushions my steps.
The air is cooler out here, brushed with the faint scent of sweat already lingering from early warm-ups.
My gaze searches the stands instinctively, drawn beyond the group gathering around Everest. Thiago is exactly where I expected him, front and center, leaning against a railing.
Our eyes meet, and he lifts his hand, giving me a small thumbs up, exaggerated enough to make me huff out the beginning of a laugh.
This is the collision of my two worlds finally syncing together, but knowing the blond commanding everyone’s attention on the pitch, I know it won’t be a smooth ride.
“Exciting news, team,” Everest announces as I close in.
Conversations die instantly, heads turning forward and bodies straightening like they’ve been pulled on strings.
“I’ve secured our first home match. Next Wednesday, the Radley Rangers will be joining us on the main pitch.
” He pauses to roll his shoulders, as if physically combatting the ripple of tension moving through the group.
“It won’t count toward official ranking, but I figured it’s time we put whatever this is,” his hand gestures vaguely at the team, “to the test.”
There’s a round of grumbles that Everest silences with a whistle, sending the troops off to run laps. I remain rooted to the spot, my jaw tightening as I watch them go, sticks grasped in gloved hands. Once they’re out of earshot, I twist towards the smug captain in his number one jersey.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” I snap. “We’re not ready for a match. We haven’t even locked down positions yet, let alone figured out how to play as a team.” Everest doesn’t flinch. He just watches me, his expression carved from stone.
“That’s exactly why you’re going to be here every day until the match, helping whip this team into shape,” he replies, taking a step towards me. My stomach drops but I hold my ground, even when I’m forced to tilt my head up to look at him.
“I’ve already spoken to Dean Colt. You’ve been cleared from your classes.
We show up, we put in the work, and we focus.
No distractions.” As he says this, his gaze shifts beyond his shoulder, sliding toward the stands.
I inhale deeply, not needing to follow to know what he’s looking at. Or more specifically, who.