Page 59 of Changing the Playbook
“Even when I’m smashing balls with a bat?”
“Especially then. Your murder swing is pretty hot, actually.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and heat floods my face. But Sophie doesn’t pull back. If anything, she edges closer, until I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, and it might just be enough to light the spark that will set us ablaze.
She looks up at me. “Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
My pulse hammers against my ribs. “What thing?”
“Looking at me like you want to kiss me but won’t.”
All the air leaves my lungs. “Sophie…”
“The other night, after poetry, you kissed my cheek.” Her fingers find the fence near mine, not quite touching. “Then you left.”
“I know,” I say, carefully, honestly surprised this hasn’t come up before but glad we’re finally discussing it.
“Why?”
Christ, how do I explain this without sounding like I’m playing games?
I swallow hard. “Because I like being around you. Talking to you. Helping when you need it. And I don’t want you to think I’m only interested in…”
“Sex?” she supplies, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah.” My face burns hotter. “That night at your apartment was incredible. Beyond incredible. But getting to know you these past months, being your friend, that matters to me too. So if that’s all you want, just friendship, I’m OK with that. I need you to know it’s your choice.”
It’s only a partial lie. I would never be OK with just being her friend, but I don’t want her out of my life, and I’ll respect that choice if she makes it. And, as she stares at me for a long moment, I can actually see the moment her walls come down. Her whole face transforms, softness replacing wariness.
“Mike?”
I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. “Yeah?”
“What if I don’t want just friendship?”
She rises onto her toes, hands finding my shoulders for balance, and pulls me down to her level. Her eyes search mine, a question and an invitation all at once. This is it—her choice, made clear, with no ambiguity and no uncertainty—and my whole bodyscreamswith anticipation.
“Sophie,” I breathe, and then her mouth is on mine.
The first contact is soft, almost tentative, like we’re both remembering how this works. Then her lips part slightly, a tiny sigh escaping, and any thought of restraint evaporates. I band my arms around her waist, pulling her flush against me as she melts into the kiss.
I’d forgotten—how the hell had I forgotten?—the way she fits against me, every curve aligning perfectly despite our height difference. But I couldneverforget the little noise she makes when I angle my head to deepen the kiss, which sets off fireworks in my bloodstream.
Yep. We’re well and truly ablaze now…
seventeen
SOPHIE
Mike goesstatue-still when I first press my lips to his, every muscle in his body locking up like he’s processing a play that wasn’t in the game plan. For one horrifying second, I’m convinced he’s going to push me away, that I’ve completely misread every lingering glance and careful touch.
That I’ve just torched our friendship in a spectacular blaze of misplaced hormones and emotional vulnerability.
But then I fist my hands in his shirt and tug him closer with a desperation that surprises us both. He melts against me with a sound that’s half surprise, half surrender, and pure electricity races down my spine like someone’s injected lightning directly into my veins.
