Chapter 38

Jace smiles when he sees me waiting by his van after practice. I think he's gifted me more smiles in the past two days than all the other days combined. "What's up, baller?" I greet.

His grin widens as he removes his gym bag from across his torso, opens the side door of his van and throws it in.

I wait until the door's closed to poke his stomach. He seems to hate it as much as the first time I did it, and it makes me giggle. I motion toward the school, saying, "You called me your girl in there."

He immediately shakes his head, opening my door for me. "That, I do not recall."

After hopping up in the seat and getting situated, I remind him, "I'm pretty sure your exact words were, ‘Take care of my girl.'"

"Nope." Another head shake, along with a restrained smile. "You sure that was me?"

I click on my seat belt, never once taking my eyes off him. "So something interesting happened after your practice."

"What's that?" he asks, releasing my hair that got caught beneath the belt. He shifts it behind my ear, and I kiss his palm before he retracts it.

Jace and I haven't done anything physical.

We haven't even kissed—not the passionate, hour-long make-out sessions formed by nothing but pure lust and desire.

But, we have these moments… these short, quiet, intimate moments of shared words and small touches that reveal how we feel, what we mean to each other.

It may not be for everybody, but I'd take a simple, meaningful kiss to the forehead any day.

He runs the back of his fingers over my cheek. "What happened after practice?"

"Right." I come back to the present as he stands beside the van, forearm resting on the roof. "One of the guys on your team, Ryan something?"

Jace nods, his eyebrows dipped. "Did he say something to you?"

"No." I reach up, flatten the pinch between his eyebrows with my thumb. "He invited us over to his house. He says he always has the team and their girls over after first practice…"

"Why didn't he invite me?"

"Funny, I asked the same thing. He said he's invited you the past three years and you've never shown."

"That's…" He rears back, defensive. "Actually, that's true."

"Jace!"

"What?"

"No wonder you don't get along with your team."

"Because I don't go over to their houses?"

"Because you don't socialize with them."

"I do enough of that on the court."

"That's not the same."

"How? We talk. We play. We?—"

"Were you or were you not the one who asked for help with this?"

He rolls his eyes. "I meant during school hours. I have far better shit to do than sit around an unlit bonfire while they talk about dumb shit."

I sigh. "You think it'll be bad for you? I'm willing to hang out with a bunch of idiot boys who put money on who could nail me first."

Anger flickers in his eyes, his jaw tensing.

I add, "Besides, you thought the same about movies, and now look, you've watched two of them."

"I like watching them with you."

"Kiss me."

"What?"

I pull him down by his shirt and kiss him quickly before releasing him. "We go for an hour," I tell him. "If you hate it, we can leave. You just need to make an appearance."

He looks around the almost empty parking lot. "One hour?"

"One hour," I agree. "But you have to try, okay?"

"Try how?"

I shrug. "Engage in conversation."

Jace, in social settings, is like a fish out of water. We sit side by side in deck chairs, and he does not engage. At all. He chews his lip, his knee bouncing, and every few minutes, he checks the time, counting down the minutes until it's time to leave.

Jace was right, though. We're sitting around an unlit bonfire, and his teammates and a few of their girlfriends are all talking. Jonah is here too, sitting a few seats away. Ryan, whose house we're at, lives in a massive lake house surrounded by trees. His mom is here, and occasionally she'll come out with new platters of snacks that everyone dives into.

Everyone but Jace.

I take his hand now, link our fingers, and try to communicate with my eyes. "You good?"

He shrugs.

I try to think back to a couple of nights ago, when he came over for dinner. He had no problem talking to my dad, and if anything, that should've been far more intimidating than this.

I sigh, press my lips to his cheek and wait for a lull in the conversation to ask, "You guys know Jace doesn't watch movies?"

Jace glares at me, and I tighten my hold on his hand—half to reassure him, half to make sure he doesn't flee.

"Like, any movie?" Ryan asks, looking from our joined hands, then up to Jace.

Jace shrugs. "I've watched a couple now… with Harlow."

"What did you watch?" Damon, another one of his teammates, asks.

When Jace doesn't answer, I do it for him. "We started with Space Jam."

"Jordan or LeBron?"

Jace chuckles, throws me under the bus this time. "Tell them what you said about LeBron."

I shake my head. I'm well versed in social situations, and I'd rather jump into an ocean and be circled by sharks than repeat those words to this crowd.

Jace sits up slightly. "Harlow said he was overrated."

My eyes drift shut as a round of shocked jeers is thrown my direction. Beside me, Jace is laughing.

"In my defense," I state, hands up in surrender, "I grew up watching replays of the games my dad watched when he was a kid, and a lot of those were players his dad showed him, so I think it's very much a generational thing."

"Fair, but overrated?" Damon asks. "Come on."

Ryan chuckles, then brings Jace back into the conversation. "Did you like the movie?"

"Space Jam?" Jace asks, shaking his head. "Absolutely not." Everyone laughs at that, and Jace… Jace laughs with them. "But then she put on Glory Road."

"I fucking love Glory Road!" Damon shouts. And then it gets animated, everyone talking over each other as they discuss the players, the plot, and Jace engages with them all. I wait for a moment of quiet and squeeze his hand. His eyes meet mine, but he's still half listening to what people are saying. "I'm getting a drink. You want anything?"

"Water?"

I nod, getting up and heading into the house. I find the cooler full of drinks Ryan's mom set out for us and grab a soda for me and water for Jace. As soon as I've turned, I'm enveloped in familiar arms. "Thank you," Jonah says, and I can hear the emotion in his voice. He releases me and disappears back into the yard. I watch from the other side of the window as Jace sits forward, his elbows on his knees, laughing at something one of his teammates has said. I look at the drinks in my hands, deciding they can wait, and move away from the door, making myself scarce for a bit. Ryan's mom is in the kitchen, preparing even more food, and she looks up when sees me, her smile full force.

I motion to the sliced subs on the counter and joke, "Athletes, am I right?"

She sighs dramatically. "They never stop."

"Can I help at all?"

"You convincing Jace to be here is help enough." She pauses mid-slice and looks up at me. "You know, I used to live in Rowville, before I married my husband. Kiera was a few years younger than me, so I didn't know her well, but…"

"Kiera?"

"Jace's mom."

I nod, force a smile, because I think I know where this is going. I just don't know if I'm comfortable with it.

"You live there, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have you been there long?"

"We just moved in over the summer."

I expect her to gossip, to tell me her version of his story. But instead, she asks, "So you haven't seen Jace play?"

"Some. But not in an actual game."

"Electric," she says. "It's the only way I can describe it… the way the crowd roars whenever he gets near the ball… it's like we all know…"

"Know what, exactly?"

"That we're witnessing a miracle in the making."