Page 73 of Stealing for Keeps
Her blond ponytail hangs over one shoulder as she hunches over the book reading. Her lips are parted, and her long lashes flutter as her gaze slowly moves from left to right. She looks up, catching me watching her.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I turn my stare down to the early years of Jude Collins, but I only read a sentence or two before I find myself glancing back up at her.
Her lips curve in a shy smile when we lock eyes again.
“How’s the book?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Someone keeps talking to me.”
I smash my lips together and hold the book up higher. I hear her laughter as I attempt to get lost in the book. My knee knocks against hers as I shift to get more comfortable. There are beanbag chairs and pillows at the front of the library that would have been more comfortable than the hard floor. But being back here with her feels like we’re hiding together in an epic game of hide-and-seek, waiting to be found. The excitement, the nerves, the heightened awareness of every sound and the beat of my heart.
I’m not sure how long we continue to sit there—long enough that my butt is numb when she nudges my knee with hers.
“How are things going with the team?”
“Oh, now you want to talk, huh?”
She gives me a shy smile.
“It’s good. Why?”
“Lacey mentioned that maybe the team wasn’t so accepting of you because of the kiss and rumors around school about us.” Her cheeks pinken, like maybe she’s remembering just how good of a kiss it was.
“Eh.” I shrug both shoulders. “I don’t know how much of it was me being the new guy and how much was about that kiss. Things are good now. They’ve stopped making my life hell.”
She looks appalled. “What did they do to you?”
“You really want to know?”
She nods and leans forward.
“It was mostly normal locker room pranks—taking all the towels and stealing my clothes while I was in the shower, hiding my practice jersey, swapping my cup out for an extra small.”
Her mouth drops open, and then a small giggle escapes. Everything feels heightened in the quiet, dark library. Like how much I want to pull her onto my lap and kiss her again.
“What else?”
I’m so focused on her lips that it takes a second for the question to register.
“What do you mean?”
“You said it wasmostlypranks.”
“Let’s just say they made it clear they didn’t want me on the team.”
Her expression shifts immediately, concern tugging her brows together in the middle.
“It’s all fine now,” I quickly add. “Promise.”
We fall quiet again. She glances back at her book, and I do the same, not that there’s any hope of me reading anything. I want to keep talking to her, keep staring at her mouth.
“Hey, did you hear that?” she whispers.
I lift my head and listen intently. I start to say no, but then Mrs. Finch’s high-pitched voice breaks through the barrier of my current Claire fog. I glance at my watch.
“Shit,” I hiss, scrambling to my feet and pulling Claire up to hers.
