Page 105 of Game On
“Ego,” she murmurs.
“Confidence,” I counter. “You know, I think this no-alcohol pact was a great idea.”
She chuckles softly. “You just like having a clear head when you kiss me.”
“Can you blame me?” I ask, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to miss a single second of this.”
Her smile is radiant, and she stands on her tiptoes to press another quick kiss to my lips. “Come on,” she says, taking my hand. “Let’s get some air.”
We weave our way through the crowd and step out onto the back porch. The yard is filled with groups of people, but the noise level is much lower out here. And the stars are out in full force, twinkling against the inky black sky.
Ella leans against the wooden railing, her eyes scanning the distant skyline. “Beautiful night,” she murmurs, and I can’t help but agree. But it’s not just the night. It’s being here with her.
“Yeah,” I say, sidling up behind her. “Perfect.”
“You know what I miss most about England?”
I rest my chin on the top of her head, wrap my arms around her. “What’s that?”
“It might sound odd, but the rain, mostly. That constant drizzle. And the smell of wet earth after it stops. It’s weird how little it rains here.”
I hum in agreement, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Funny how you miss what you’re used to. I can’t say I’d miss the rain much, but I get it.”
“I suppose it’s still … home for me,” she says wistfully, her voice a quiet hush. “Everything about it, good and bad. Even the dreary days.”
“Sounds like a place I need to visit to understand,” I offer, tightening my hold on her. “After you’re back, maybe I’ll find my way there. You could show me all your favorite spots, introduce me to some proper English tea.”
She laughs softly and turns around in my arms, her eyes sparkling with an emotion I can’t quite place. “All that way just for tea?”
“Well, it’s a bonus,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“If you’re accepted into Oxford’s Classics program, then all your dreams will come true.”
“Who says I’ll go there if I get in? I might have my pick of the litter.”
She snorts. “Probably. Though isn’t Oxford the perfect spot for an overachiever like you?”
I chuckle, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, maybe. But it depends on funding, really. Some of the schools I appliedto are a bit lower cost. They’ll have different opportunities for grants and fellowships. Plus, I have to factor in the cost of living.”
I know that Ella doesn’t face the same financial constraints as I do, but she seems understanding enough. Her hand finds mine, and she squeezes it softly.
“Whatever happens, you’ll make the right choice,” she says with a certainty that makes my heart swell. “But if you do end up at Oxford, just know I won’t be mad about it.”
“Ah, but that would ruin my plans to avoid you.”
She swivels around in my arms to give me a death stare. “Strong women,” she says with a shake of her head. “They intimidate boys and excite men.”
I laugh, picturing us there together, wandering through narrow, bustling streets and sipping on coffees in quaint little cafés. Studying in dark libraries. Boating on the River Cherwell. Bickering with her between classes. Kissing her pretty much everywhere I can.
I trace a finger along her collarbone. “You excite me,” I say, “very much.”
Her face lights up, but loud, cutting laughter has us both turning our heads to find the source. There, in the middle of the yard, stands a rowdy group of boys I recognize as baseball players. There are five of them surrounding a woman who appears to be quite drunk.
Her blonde curls are disheveled, tumbling wildly around her face. She’s being held up by one of the boys, her heels barely touching the ground. Her laughter is wild, free, but there’s something off about it.
Ella stiffens in my arms, and I look down to find her eyes narrowing. “It’s Claire,” she murmurs, her voice tight with concern. “And she’s obviously had way too much to drink.”
I follow her gaze back to the group and, sure enough, Claire is in the center of the group, her curly hair a wild halo around her head as she sways unsteadily. The boys don’t seem to be helping; they’re egging her on, encouraging more drinks rather than temperance.
