CHAPTER THREE
HAZEL
Pom-poms flourished and an excess of sound hummed over my head where I sat squished between enthusiastic basketball fans.
Even the floor rumbled here, and the players weren’t even on the court.
I’d tried my best not to come to the game hosted at her university, but my twin had insisted I take the plunge and initiate myself into local culture.
And she was right; the halftime entertainment was loud.
The man beside me screamed along with the cheerleader’s chants as I stretched my gaze across the crowd, searching for my sister who had ostensibly abandoned me in search of snacks.
I didn't need snacks. My stomach rumbled on cue. I really didn't need snacks.
"Here you go." An oversized bucket thick with salt landed in my lap. I could almost taste it in the air. Everything was big here.
Big crowd. Big stadium with the jumbo-whatsit-screen.
Giant players.
I’d watched Zack play through the first two quarters, trying to remember basketball rules from my one coaching season at primary school—ahem, elementary school was the equivalent here.
Somehow, the game seemed both smoother and more vicious from where I sat bang in the middle of the rows, with a perfect view of the game.
“Eat,” my sister, Aurora, prompted.
I obediently stuck my hand in and ate a fistful of popcorn.
“Happy?” I asked, the sound muffled by the treat all at once.
Apparently, this was a foodie-working hiatus from home.
A hotdog was placed on top. I shook my head and swallowed.
“No way am I eating all this.” I inhaled and sighed, and changed my mind.
"Okay, so I did need snacks," I mumbled, sending my sister a wry grin as he sat down next to me.
Wait, what? He?
Zach plopped himself into the hastily vacated space the basketball fan made next to me.
“I met your twin. She says hi.” An arm draped across my lower back as he leaned in and brushed his lips across my ear. “You aren’t actually identical.”
A shiver rippled over me. “Not many people can tell us apart, you know.” My sister would tell me the truth.
I kept that piece of information to myself as my gaze narrowed on him.
Zack’s well defined chest was covered by a varsity branded letterman jacket over his basketball singlet.
The one I’d been watching all night with the number 32 on it that clung to a defined chest.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to focus.
"Stalking me, finding my sister. And you think this is Okay how, Jock Boy?
" The sass flew out of my mouth before I could reel it in, but there was no knocking back that flirtatious tone. I clamped my mouth shut, but the way he assessed me with those dark damn eyes that I swore away everything told me I’d get no freebies from him.
This is not the stereotype he makes himself out to be. It was like he took that dumb-jock persona and donned it like armor to hide who he was beneath. And part of me wanted to find out.
No, I don’t.
Liar, liar, marking pen on fire.
Zack’s easy grin grew bigger. “Her hair is a different shade to yours. Pretty, but yours is…” He fell silent for a moment. “It’s like sunlight is trapped in each strand. Maybe because you still have that glow from home," he finished.
Oh, damn. “I think I preferred thinking you weren’t that perceptive.” I hugged my popcorn bucket, suddenly glad of the barrier it provided between me and the world, even though Zack had planted himself right beside me. His arm still pressed to my lower back. "Where are your snacks?"
"I don't eat during a game. Ending up as the Puke Duke on the court is never a good look."
The guy on the other side of him shook his head, then turned away.
I snorted. "Smooth, Zack. Smooth."
He scratched the back of his neck. "Not my best line?"
I wrinkled my nose. “Could've been better, I agreed. "Why aren't you over there with your team?”
He turned to me, his face serious. “Because I couldn't resist doing this." Two fingers caught my chin and turned me completely toward him. A raw sort of hunger flicked across his eyes a second before he pressed soft, warm lips against mine.
The kiss was chaste, and brief, little more than skin contacting skin.
But just like when he touched me earlier in the week at the night fair, a jolt passed between us.
I gasped, my lips parting. Somewhere in the background, as though from a distance, a roar rolled across the crowd, muting the satisfied sound that rumbled through Zack’s chest in response.
A hand steadied the snacks on my lap. Warm bloomed over my limbs, and then he shifted. No grin spread across his face this time when he pulled back. A serious Zack stared down at me, need unchecked in his eyes.
"Sorry about that," he hummed. Fingers flickered across the back of my hand, the gesture almost apologetic.
"About what?" I asked, dazed. The cheers went on. “Did the game restart?" Should he be down there, already?
The look in his eyes said no, but warned me of something else. I frowned, and twisted away from him.
And found myself face to giant face with our own likeness spread across the giant screen dangling above the center of the court where I'd been watching players close up for the last half an hour.
"You didn't," I whispered, squeezing my popcorn bucket too tightly.
His arm tensed across my back. “I might have.”
Did that count as an apology?
He nudged my shoulder. “Your sister gave up her seat for five minutes. I gotta go before she beats my butt. How’s your class going?”
I blinked at the change of subject, still staring at my blown up face on the… “What’s this thing called?”
“The Jumbotron,” Zack supplied.
“Mhmm. My class is good,” I hedged.
“Great. So, I can take you on a tour of the town tomorrow then, right? There’s Friday night fair on, just like last week, only the town has sort of revved it up for the end of the month. You game to walk the spooky side with me, Teah?”
“Don’t do that.” I shivered. “It’s like you’re fetishizing it.”
His lips twitched. “I really gotta go. I’ll come by your class after… class?” His eyebrows rose.
I closed my eyes. “I should not go on a date with you after this,” I said out of the corner of my mouth as the cheering settled and thankfully the big screen chose to pick out someone else from the crowd, and everyone instantly forgot about us.
He tweaked my nose cutely. “After class,” he murmured, and slid out from the row with more grace than a giant jock should possess.
Right as the cheerleaders launched into their next war cry. The crowd lifted their foam gloves and support paraphernalia. Within seconds I lost Zack in the crowd.
And pom-poms, of course.
So much for saying no.
“Bering kissed on the Jumbotron is considered romantic,” the fan next to me said, unasked, as everyone settled for the opening of the third quarter.
"Or cheesy as fuck," my sister's caustic voice announced her presence. Aurora planted her ass and relieved me of my snacks.
With nothing left to do with my hands, I twisted salt-encrusted fingers into a knot, searching the crowd for Zack’s tall figure. He strode the length of the court down at ground level, but looked up and caught my eye, sending me a wink. Somebody whistled loudly from the row behind.
“He's an ass," I muttered, wishing my heartbeat would regain its usual momentum. My lips still tingled from that kiss and my hands were cold without his wrapped around them.
My sister shrugged, taking a bite out of the hot dog. "I don't know. It looked like a good kiss. I approve."
"Well that's that, then." I rolled my eyes, pretending to focus on the game but only really watching one player.
"What do you mean?"
Zach ran back on to the court, pulling his letterman jacket off and tossed it at one of his teammates who laughed and threw a comment back at him as he jogged backward.
Their banter and the jacket flew back and forth until it went wild and hit his coach full in the face.
The grey headed man came up frowning as he peeled the sweat-laden material from his face.
Zach held up his hands in supplication and backpedaled quickly.
I pressed my hands over my mouth, trying to suppress the giggles that interrupted my sister’s tirade on what constituted a good first PDA.
Aurora shook her head. "Dumb as shit, but hey, his heart seems to be in the right place. Can you live with that?"
Could I? Zach did seem to have his heart in the right place and I'd heard that reference from more than one person in Broomcorn. But I wasn’t all too sure about the first part of that assessment.
The heart part though…that was what really mattered.
I shrugged and liberated a handful of popcorn from my twin.
"Maybe I will go on that date after all," I mused.
"Atta girl," my sister commented as a siren blared, cutting off all conversation.
Zach turned, waved at me and landed himself a ball in the face.
I clutched my popcorn and didn't try to analyze why my heart pounded twice as fast as its usual pace right through the overtime clock.
Much.