Page 33 of The Comeback Pact

“What if I want something else?”

His strong fingers have a hold of my upper arms, and even on this unsteady apparatus, it feels like he has roots like concrete. I lick my lips. “What do you want?”

He peers down, taking me in. I specifically wore this outfit to show off my new features. Little pops of muscles in my shoulders, thighs, and biceps. I think he notices. Actually, he definitely notices as evidenced by his slow perusal.

“I want you to go out with me.”

I let out a slow breath. That wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought maybe he’d say he wanted me in his bed or on my knees. Maybe that’s just where my brain is at, but I really didn’t think the hero on campus would ask a girl for a date—especially me. Not when he has girls throwing themselves at him. “Do you go out with girls often?”

“Never,” he says, chest expanding. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

A first time for everything…Now, I’m freaking out. “What does West Brooks think of as a date?”

He chuckles. “I hadn’t gotten that far. My only goal was to ask you first, then figure it out.”

The peaks of his cheeks turn pink. God, my knees are Jell-O, and it’s not from the warm-up. “I will…” I agree. “But I want you to do something for me, too.”

His smile widens. “More pacts?”

I shake my head. “No, I—” I take a deep breath, nerves shuttling through me like a runner on wobbly feet. Here’s my chance. “Sydney’s Lip Sync Contest is tomorrow, and I wanted to know if you would come…with me.”

There. It’s out.

I have to stop myself from closing my eyes.

He doesn’t waste a bit of time. “Yes.”

I giggle nervously. His fingers press into my skin until I meet his gaze again. Shit. His green eyes are bright, expecting.

If you’d asked me at the beginning of the year, I would’ve said my main objective was to stay away from as many football players as I could, but here I am, practically in one’s embrace, and there’s not really any other place I want to be.

It’s scary.

And fucking exciting.

My parents would die.

My heart starts to pound as I stare at him. A crazy rhythm that doesn’t seem to want to slow.

Eventually, he reminds me what we’re there for. “You should get back to work.”

“Yeah, twists,” I remind myself. I’m working on twists today. “Coach watched me dive a few times last practice, and she wants to see improvement in my twists.”

He pulls away. “If that’s what Coach thinks.”

I rub my arms, trying to bring the same feeling back into them that West leaves. Excitement. Surprise. Expectation and inevitability. “Just need to shake off the rust.”

He steps off the trampoline, taking a seat on the outside safety area. I go through my normal routine, starting with smaller flips, then one twist. Then a flip and a twist together and building from there.

The truth is, I was happy Coach actually took notice of me last practice. Unfortunately, my water entry was terrible with a splash like I belly flopped, but the fact that she’s paying attention to me is a good thing. It means she hasn’t written me off yet.

It can only go up from here.

I’m so engrossed in my movements that I don’t break until the young guy at the counter calls out, “Ten minutes!”

My head whips toward him, and I find West still sitting, watching with his arms wrapped around his legs. My cheeks heat. “That went by fast.”

“You look good,” he says, getting to his feet. “I mean, I don’t know the nuances to look for, but you looked strong.”

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