I walk to Wyatt’s side, intent on thanking him myself for saving our practice. “John, this is my girlfriend, Nash.”
“Oh, that’s how you know this lovely team,” John says, unsurprised. I reach out to shake John’s hand. He’s built like a truck and his head is shiny bald.
“Nice to officially meet you.”
“You, too. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll get out of your way so you can pack up.” With that, he strolls back to the office he came from. I assume he has work to finish since we disturbed his off day.
I reach down to grab my bag, but Wyatt beats me to it. “Let me.” And I do.
I wave goodbye to the girls, and we head out the front door of Ironsides. The weather isn’t unbearable yet, but the wind that blows is warm, hinting at what’s to come. Wyatt reaches for my hand as we walk toward my car. We basically don’t go anywhere in public not connected anymore. My body was tired before Wyatt showed up, completely exhausted from dead lifts, but now I can feel it light up in his presence. Starting from where he’s touching me and moving up my arm. It’s getting harder to ignore how natural this feels. Like what I imagine a caterpillar must feel when making its cocoon. I think it knows it’s doing the right thing and that it will be protected while it morphs into something beautiful, and I silently wonder if whatever this is between us will also change into something equally as wonderful.
I unlock my car, and Wyatt throws the bag in my backseat. We stand awkwardly for a second, unsure of how to leave things. He came to my rescue once again. How many times does he have to do this before I consider him my official knight in shining armor? He’s certainly not the freshman I once knew,all shaggy-haired and gangly. I take in his full lips that surround his bright smile, light stubble gracing his cheeks. Somewhere during the last five years while I was gone, Wyatt has become a grown man.
I can’t help but tongue my lip. “I’ll see you Friday for lunch?” I lean back against the car, and he leans in toward me. So close I can smell his cologne, sharp and masculine.
“You will.” I have the sudden urge to kiss him, and I have to grip my keys so tightly in my hand that it hurts. He must be able to read the look on my face because he asks, “Penny for your thoughts?”
Something has been weighing on my mind. “When this deal is done and everyone’s gotten what they wanted, what’s going to happen to us?”
“We’ll still be friends, right?” he says honestly.
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s just–” Wyatt takes my hand and momentarily stops me.
“I think things will work out exactly the way they’re supposed to.”
“That’s cryptic as fuck.”
He laughs. “I know.” He takes one step closer. “You trust me, right?”
I gulp like a cartoon character. “I trust you,” I say, but my eyes go right to his mouth. I’m sure he notices because he goes completely still for a second. Like if he allowed himself to move an inch, he would unleash on me. My heart pounds in my chest and I wait for him to move, to decide how far this is about to go in this now-empty parking lot. No one we need to convince is around. Then again, no one is around at all. If we kissed now, it wouldn’t be for show, wouldn’t be for stress release. It would be kissing just because we wanted to. Do Iwant to take this further? Would our friendship survive if we didn’t work out?
Wyatt takes a measured step back. Giving me space to catch my breath.
I guess I’ll never find out.
Chapter Thirty-Three
WYATT
The next home game for the Moons is on a Saturday in early May, and the place feels packed. That’s probably because the entire Hurricanes team is here, including the sixteen-man practice squad. I didn’t give anyone the option to refuse. I told them they could bring anyone they wanted, but they had to be here tonight.
There’s about eighty of us here, give or take. We absolutely overwhelmed the concessions before finding our seats. I stand in the middle handing out noisemakers to anyone who will take one while the teams warm up below.
I hand a water bottle full of little rocks to a rookie. “I want this section to make so much noise it sounds like the entire arena is full.”
He nods and takes another from me to hand to the girl he brought. I look at her, realize I’m probably being rude, and mutter, “Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Hurricanes.” Then I amble off to the next group to see who I can entice with some hand clappers on a stick.
I have to pull my shirt away from my chest again. Chrissyassured us the paint we used was body safe, but it itches like a son of a gun. I can’t wait to have the cool air flowing across my heated skin.
Finally, the announcer starts talking and lets the crowd know it’s time for the national anthem. “Please rise if you are able and remove your caps for the singing of the national anthem by Claire Young.”
We all rise, and as a group we are pretty intimidating. I wonder if we are moving the needle in favor of the Moons with our sheer size. A young lady steps out to sing the national anthem and we cheer politely when she’s done.
Here we go.
“The starters for your home team, the Houston Moons,” bellows the announcer.
I gesture at all the guys around me to get up. Nash is probably so focused on the game she hasn’t even noticed all of us up here in the Moons colors.