Chapter Thirty Four #3
“That’s because you’re not giving yourself enough credit,” Thiago shoots back easily.
“You’ve got the speed, the control, and the instinct.
You just need to trust it and simply take the shot when it’s there.
” Thiago winks, and Claire blushes. Her hand is steadier around her cup now, and she’s grinning.
In fact, her whole face has lit up with a renewed confidence.
I allow a small uplifting smile to slip though, backing Thi’s assessment.
Beyond Claire’s head, Everest turns on his heel and storms away.
I only watch long enough to see him use his foot to click the stick up to his hand and start running drills by himself.
Tension clings to his bunched shoulders, the need to expel frustration driving him to seek physical exertion.
I could spend all my time walking on eggshells, wondering how to improve Everest’s mood, and I still wouldn’t be able to achieve it.
His demons are his own, whatever they may be.
Turning back to the group gathered on the ground, I observe the shift in atmosphere.
Claire has entered a conversation with Danny about the Autumn Formal, while Samson claps one of the IT guys on the back a little too hard, and laughter, actual laughter, ripples through the group.
It’s a sight to behold and one I couldn’t have achieved by myself.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say quietly, slanting myself closer to Thiago. I glance up at him, his tightly curled hair and blue eyes, his smug grin and dimples. Not caring for our audience, his hand lifts to stroke my cheek tenderly.
“I know,” he shrugs lightly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “But I wanted you to see that it doesn’t have to be one or the other. You don’t need to divide your world down the middle, I’m happy to merge.”
I huff out a quiet laugh, leaning into the warmth of his hand, my shoulder brushing his chest as if it’s the most natural place to be.
“Oh, you’ve merged alright. Infused yourself right in the center of my life.”
“Are you mad at that?” Thi bobs a brow, his eyes catching the light in that way that always makes him look like he’s three steps ahead of everyone else. I shake my head softly this time, my fingers absently catching on the sleeve of his hoodie, carving his closeness.
“Not in the slightest.” I mean it, which is terrifying.
Somewhere between late-night games and voice notes and him just showing up, Thi has threaded himself into gaps I didn’t even realize were there, slipping past defenses I’ve spent years perfecting with far too much ease.
It should scare the shit out of me, but it doesn’t.
There’s no pressure with him, no expectation to perform or recover quicker.
Thi just takes what I can give and somehow makes me feel like I’m enough, even on days like today where everything is off-balance.
It would be so easy to fall for him completely, to let him blur the edges until there’s no line between Meg the player, Meg the problem, Meg the girl just trying to hold herself together.
The air shifts before long, thickening with that damp, metallic scent that comes right before rain.
I catch it just before the first drop lands against my cheek, another dotting against my arm, then my lashes and the back of my hand.
Around us, the team groans in unison, reality snapping back into place as people scramble into motion, grabbing discarded wrappers and empty cups.
Shoving them back into bags, they’re passed off to the IT guys who suddenly become aware that they’re standing in the middle of a sports team about to get soaked.
“Come on, team, a little rain never stopped us before,” I call out, raising my voice over the shift in noise, clapping my hands once to pull their attention back in. A few heads turn, reluctant but listening. “There’s a box of donuts for whoever can get the ball from Everest first. Get to it!”
That does it. The groans dissolve into laughter, sticks lifted, shoulders bumping as something lighter takes hold, something closer to what a team should feel like.
They surge forward, cleats biting into the damp turf, energy snapping back into place as droplets begin to fall faster, peppering my skin and soaking my hair.
I hang back for a second, watching them go, the sound of movement and shouting cutting through the rain as it starts to come down properly now.
It’s only when I glance at Thiago and catch an approving smile curving his mouth upwards that I realize how easily I’ve just rallied the team.
Almost like it came naturally, like it used to.
He bends to grab a stray crosse abandoned near the sideline, spinning it once in his hand before passing it to me, our fingers brushing in the exchange.
He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.
A flicker of warmth shoots through me, despite everything else going on.
“I expect you to share those donuts with me,” he murmurs, a wink following as he nudges me lightly back toward the field. I falter for half a second, turning back as he retreats with the group he arrived with.
“Thiago,” I call over the growing rain. He glances back over his shoulder, that grin already in place. “Thank you!”