Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

The San Diego-North Recreational Soccer League championship comes down to penalty kicks. The field is not in great condition which has impacted the game in big and small ways, from me tripping on a big drive, to Anisha wrenching her ankle and hobbling her way through the last few minutes of playing time. Huge patches of missing grass have again turned into mud pits from the overactive sprinklers, and everyone is sporting stain-covered jerseys and shorts. The sun finally comes out, blasting us with heat as we start to organize the rounds of penalty kicks.

The Goal Diggers are in a huddle, all sweaty and breathing hard. Cole runs his hand over his blond buzzcut, sweat spraying into the air. Why is that so attractive? A primitive part of me is slowly being seduced by the sight of his damp jersey clinging to his muscular chest.

"Okay, they're kicking first," says Frank, jutting into my thoughts, reminding me to keep a clear head. "I'm going to do my best on goal, but I'll really need you guys to pull through if I can't catch them all. Let's do this."

We nod, making eye contact with a seriousness I imagine people take into battle. We're not going down today. Today, we're warriors on the soccer field, laying it all on the line.

"For Mick," whispers Anisha, then louder, "Goal Diggers on three."

"One, two, three, Goal Diggers!"

The opposing team makes every single penalty kick except the last one. Frank is a tank and a beast of a goalie, but today, luck is not on his side.

The goalies switch and we go through our roster. Cole, Luko, Denny, Sarah, Anisha and Frank all sink their shots, and somehow it's down to me. I have to make this goal to win us the championship outright, and to do that, I have to get this ball past The Nemesis, the goalie we lost to in our first scrimmage of the season.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

The team huddles around me with echoes of, "You got this, you got this."

Cole comes in front of me, taking up my whole field of vision.

"Bring it home," he says, giving me a fist bump and a long, lingering look. I nod to him with confidence and head to the line. Forget Mick—I'm winning this for Cole and me.

My nerves are through the roof as I twirl the ball between my palms, place it on the faint white marker, and plan my kick. I'm going to sink a shot in the upper right-hand corner. I could go for the slow, easy cross to the left, but I think it's too predictable.

If I miss…I can't miss.

My heart is pounding. I wave my hand in the air behind me to get some hype going and Sarah starts a low, "Ohhhhhhh," and everyone joins in, growing louder and louder. I stare into The Nemesis's blue eyes and give him a smirk that makes me seem cockier than I feel. I think I've got this, but nothing is for sure until the ball crosses the goal line.

"You got it, Queenie!" shouts Cole.

Step, step, step, plant my left foot, kick through the ball with my right.

Boom.

Goal.

The team erupts in cheers behind me.

A euphoria I've never experienced before sweeps over me, and a roar of victory rips out of my chest. I pull a Brandi Chastain, whipping off my shirt, whirling it over my head, and doing a dramatic victory slide across the mud on my knees.

"Let's go!" I scream, jumping to my feet.

Cole and Denny whip their shirts off and whirl them in the air, then Cole scoops me up around my legs and hoists me up on his shoulder while I pump my fist in the air. My muddy legs are slippery against his sweaty chest, but his arms are strong and sure around me.

He parades me around the field, and everyone is cheering like I just won the World Cup. Our team secured the championship, but the quieter victory for me is that I did something I loved, I saw it through to the end, and I succeeded at it. I'm so freakin' proud. I did that.

By the time Cole sets me down, I'm teary-eyed and holding one hand over my mouth to keep a happy sob from bursting out.

"You good?" Cole shouts, and I nod. He sees my glistening eyes and he pulls me to him in a big hug. I'm hugging his bare, muscular torso and we're both so sweaty, but so happy. Butterflies in my stomach are joining in the pandemonium of celebration, and my endorphins are through the roof. I'm elated and I love that I get to share it with him.

Which is why I do something slightly silly and press a kiss to Cole's chest, right below his collarbone. He pulls back and looks down at me with a surprised grin as I smile sheepishly.

Then his eyes look to my mouth, and a visceral spark passes between us, like electricity crackling in the air before a lightning storm. His head dips and my heart stops. He could kiss me. I'm half terrified, half thrilled, but the terrified part wins out.

I turn my head away.

When I take a glance back at him, his neck is flushed red, but he's not done. He puts his arms around my shoulders and squeezes me tight, then whispers in my ear. "You're amazing. Freakin' proud of you, Tia."

I lock my hands behind his back and hug the breath out of him in reply. "Thanks, Cole."

Anisha catches my eye and arches an eyebrow at me, coming to my side as I separate from Cole.

"Okay, team," shouts Frank. "Shower, clean up, change, we'll meet downtown in front of the bar in an hour and a half." We start to disperse, but Anisha stays next to me.

"This is the part where you can choose to let go and have fun," she whispers to me. "Your first step in letting go of the need to be in control."

"He can't be my forever," I whisper back. "I don't want to mess him up with false hope."

"Then don't promise anything. Relax and enjoy the moment."

Everything is fine. My butterflies are fluttering down as I shower, quickly blow-dry my hair straight, and flick on some makeup.

But then I'm faced with the decision of what to wear to the bar. And Anisha's words are echoing in my head.

It's casual, just celebratory drinks. If it weren't for the painting, this would be the last time Cole and I would naturally cross paths. But it's not the last time, so I can wear whatever I'm comfortable with. I won't make it flirty. Cutoffs, a cute white eyelet top with puffy short sleeves, flat sandals, and some gold jewelry should communicate the message, "I'm dressing cute for me, not you."

I think. I hope. I don't know anymore. This weird whirlpool of feelings is messed up, and I want to go back to when Cole and I could walk and talk on the beach as friends.

Do you though?

The bar is packed. There's a European soccer game on, broadcasting over multiple screens. It's only in the first few minutes, but raucous cheers and sloshing beer indicate people have been here for a while.

A bachelorette party joins in the surge to grab a table, and Cole meets my eyes through the crowd, immediately coming to my side. He takes my hand, laces his fingers through mine, and tucks our combined fist into the small of his back as we jostle forward. It's a protective gesture that forces me to walk close to him, just behind his shoulder.

There's warmth and a spiced scent of masculine vanilla cologne coming from his black t-shirt. It smells so good, so inviting, I could press my nose to him to inhale deeper. If he caught me, I'd blame it on the crowd. Tempting.

Cole runs his thumb over the back of my hand as he guides us through the crowd, and my heartbeat starts to pick up the pace, pounding in my chest. My eyes flutter closed for half a second and I will him to do something, anything, that's going to counteract his effect on me. A protective man is my weakness.

I should stop letting him do things like hold my hand. Not even Frank and Sarah are holding hands right now. But I don't want to take my hand out of his. I want this, this feeling of being looked after and cared for. And I'm not going to tell myself it's wrong anymore. I can enjoy hand-holding or hugs or whatever and not make it all add up to more than it is. I'm going to let go and stop being so uptight—for now.

"You want a Jack and Coke?" Cole asks, tucking his mouth against my ear so I can hear him over the next roar of cheers. I nod and he gets the attention of the blonde bartender in no time. She's more than happy to sidle over to him and lean close to his neck to hear his order. He quirks a grin at her when she looks up at him from under her eyelashes, and I swear she blushes.

Cole turns around and smiles at me, then scans the crowd around us. My shoulder is jostled as someone else goes to order a drink and Cole's warm hand settles in the small of my back, pulling me closer to him. He smiles down at me, inciting a riot of butterflies. He doesn't even know he's doing it, he's just being Cole, cool and handsome.

When the bartender comes back to hand him two Jack and Cokes, one has a black cocktail napkin and the other has a white napkin with black scribble on it. He hands the one with the white napkin to me, and his free hand settles low on my hip as he steers us towards the corner where the Goal Diggers have commandeered a table.

He's attentive and protective, shouldering our way through the crowd, and I'm very aware of every time he touches me. Which he does a lot. I bite my bottom lip and remind myself to stay cool.

We tuck into a booth, and Cole gets Denny to move out of the way so he can slide in next to me, his jeans pressing into the side of my bare leg.

"Do you want this?" I ask, sliding the napkin towards him. Here's hoping his response will do something to break the unbearable tension and my rising desire.

"What?"

"The bartender gave you her number."

Cole grins and shakes his head at the bar, and my heart drops. Maybe he does want her number. And who am I to stand in the way? We're just friends.

"She's cute," I say, offering a concession.

"Eh," Cole says, taking a long sip of his drink, the ice clinking as it settles.

"C'mon," I tease. This feels more like us, friends again. "Could just be a drink and a kiss."

"We don't do casual," Cole says. "Not anymore. We talked about this."

" We ? We don't do casual?"

He suddenly swings one arm over the back of the booth and behind my shoulders, heat washing over me. "You know I like you and you're the one who kissed my bare chest today. Don't play with me, especially not the jealousy game."

"I'm not jealous," I scoff, blushing furiously. But he's staring me down like he knows every secret in my head.

"You want me to say if I'd rather kiss her or you?"

"No, that's?—"

"You. You every time, Tia. And I'll tell you a secret." He leans forward and whispers in my ear. "I've kissed you in my dreams, and I'm patiently waiting to see if I'll get to do it in real life."

Breath is a luxury, and my heart is running away from me. He's dreamed about me. He's dreamed about kissing me. Cole Slaeden wants to kiss me.

If I thought I wanted just friendship with him, my body and my heart are now informing me I have been sorely mistaken. My lips part as I exhale, and I'm about to grab Cole's fitted shirt and drag him to me. His wide lips are curved ever so slightly, ready to meet mine, if that's what I want. What do I want?

Denny and Luko are at the bar taking shots, and Anisha, Sarah, and Frank are waiting to order at the far corner, leaving Cole and me alone at the table. Everything about this is so tempting. A deep need in me combines with my curiosity. What would happen if I kissed him?

"One kiss," I whisper.

His eyes go dark and his gaze drops to my lips, then back to my eyes, then back to my lips, flirting with me, pulling me closer without even touching me. It'd be just a kiss, it's nothing serious. We're young and we've got our whole lives ahead of us to be patient and plan each move. Who says a kiss is reckless?

It's just a kiss.

I take his chin in my hand, pull him close, and kiss him.

We share a sharp inhale the second our lips press together. Everything about him—the fresh smell of his skin, his hand gripping the inside of my leg just above my knee, his warm mouth against mine —takes over and floods my senses with a thrill. It's only a few seconds long, but it is the most addicting thrill in the world, the kind you get from jumping off a cliff into a deep, refreshing pool on a hot summer day, and you want to keep doing it over and over and over.

Cole lets me have full control over the kiss, but the way his fingers flex against my skin tells me he's fighting to hold back. I bet if I let him kiss me, I wouldn't survive.

Shoot.

I push his face away and stare into his dark and hungry eyes, my whole body humming with awareness and desire. I've never had a kiss that resonated in every cell.

"This could end so badly," I whisper, a warning to myself as much as him.

"Doesn't have to." His voice is a blend of optimism and conviction that I can't share, and his eyes roam over my face like he's waking up and seeing me for the first time.

I glance around to see if anyone else saw us. I'm not ready for anyone else to notice or comment. Whatever that moment of sheer incandescence was, it's for Cole and me.

"Keep it between us?" Cole says.

"Yes, just us," I say, quickly taking a big gulp of my drink. Whew, that's strong.

"Are you going to make me throw pebbles at your window in the dead of night to beg for another secret kiss?" he asks with a wink.

I nearly do a spit-take. "Would you do that?" I ask, grinning as I wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.

"For you? Anything." There's a glint in his eyes that makes my blood feel like fireworks. I finish the rest of my drink in a few long sips and keep my eyes on him the whole time. His gaze makes me tremble with newfound want. I have no idea what to do or say now.

I could kiss him.

"You want another?" Luko roars across the table, making me jump. He points to my empty glass, and I shake my head. Right, the whole team is here now.

Denny slides in on the other side of Cole. "Check out that score. Geez Louise!"

Frank and Sarah bring over pitchers of beer, and I pour myself some as a distraction from the way Cole's muscular, jean-covered leg keeps brushing up against me as he and Denny start an animated running commentary on the offense's strategy. He doesn't turn towards me again, and when Anisha and Sarah say they're heading to the restrooms, I eagerly slide out the opposite side of the booth and go with them.

As soon as we're ensconced in the tiny bathroom waiting for one of two stalls to open up, Anisha gets distracted texting Mick and Sarah leans into me with a nudge. "I saw that, Lopez."

"What?" I ask, my cheeks betraying me with a blush.

"You and Cole and that hot little kiss you gave him."

"No comment," I reply, shaking my head.

"I get it. The Navy thing is too much to handle. But even I know Cole's not wired for flings. I think you'd both be a lot happier if you didn't mess around."

"Trust me, I'm entirely of the same mindset."

"You guys do have a lot of chemistry. Shame to let it go to waste."

It would be a shame. "Yeah. But I still think we're better off as friends."

"So that was like a ‘kiss and get it out of our system' thing?"

"Yeah," I say, way more confidently than I feel. Cole and I still have to get through another portrait session, another chance for us to grow even closer in an intimate setting. I fan my face. I need to remind myself why being a Navy girlfriend would be such a bad thing.

"Is Mick okay?" I ask Anisha.

She startles and locks her phone screen. "Yeah, sorry, what?"

Even with her dark skin, I can tell she's blushing.

"Oh my gosh, are you sending your husband dirty texts right now?" Sarah asks with a grin.

"Whatever," Anisha says, rolling her eyes with a grin. "He started it, he sent me a picture of him in SDBs. I go feral for him in that dress uniform. The double-breasted black jacket, white shirt, black tie, the gold trim on the sleeves—we're so going to have a deployment baby. Mark the day he gets home, my due date will be nine months later."

"Tell me again why I don't want to get with a Navy guy," I say with desperation.

"Girl, you go on with your bad self and get with Cole Slaeden," says Anisha. "You two are good for each other."

"I disagree," says Sarah. "You know Tia doesn't like the Navy life thing."

"Oh, you can do it, Tia. You've got guts, you're brave. That's all it takes. A whole lot of love, some bravery, and a weakness for your man. By the way, Mick says great job on the PKs today."

Anisha goes back to looking at her phone and a part of me is happy for her, but a bigger part of me grows increasingly jealous. Maybe that's a sign—jealousy. I want what she has. I want the flirty texts and knowing who your person is and settling down and having a wedding picture as a lock screen.

Maybe I should download an app, go on some first dates, start meeting some guys. Maybe I should find a way to ease myself away from Cole, to let him move on as well, put some distance between us. If I can't have happily ever after with him, it's time to find someone I can have it with. Maybe I'm ready for that.

I walk back out to the table; Cole's gaze snaps to mine, and I instantly melt. Anisha says I need a whole lot of love, some bravery, and a weakness for my man. I do have a weakness for him now, now that I know what his lips feel like on mine, how his hand feels wrapped around mine or pressed to my skin. I think he's an amazing person, an outstanding guy, but love…I don't know. Bravery? No, I'm running on empty when it comes to bravery.

And nothing changes the fact that I want to kiss Cole again.