“The third-place runner up from Cornell University is…Team KISS!”
The crowd applauds, and we watch as the students make their way to the stage to collect their crystal trophy and have their picture taken. I’m clutching the arm of the chair so hard my fingernails are digging into the soft wood.
The applause dies down and Team KISS moves to the back of the stage. Then the emcee announces the second-place runner up from MIT: Team Awesome.
We applaud again, and watch as they go through the same routine. The tension in the room is so thick it’s a wonder we don’t choke on it.
This is it. Our last chance to final. My heart slams against my rib cage, and I can hardly draw a breath. I grab my mom’s hand, this time not letting go.
“And finally, the first-place winners of the ACME Student Design Competition, from right here at Waverly…” I’m on the edge of my seat now, squeezing my mom’s hand so tight it’s a wonder she doesn’t cry out. “Team Spark!”
I clasp my hands over my mouth, but it does little to contain my celebratory scream.
We did it! We actually won!
There’s a thunderous round of applause complete with whooping and cheering, but I can’t focus on any of it. I’m on sensory overload. Or celebratory overload. Or maybe I’m in complete shock. Enzo and I exchange a quick embrace before I turn to my mom and Becca, who lean in and hug me at the same time, shouting their congratulations over the noise of the crowd. My mom’s crying and Enzo’s tugging at my hand and it’s all happening so fast.
I suck in a breath to center myself, square my shoulders, and follow Enzo to the stage on shaky legs, emotions running high. We climb the steps on the left side of the stage and—thankfully—I manage not to face-plant. It’s so bright on the stage I have to squint to see. We shake hands with the judges, and my eyes finally begin to adjust as we pose for pictures.
The photographer snaps pictures from several different angles, but at least he doesn’t have to tell us to smile. I’m grinning like a fool. So is Enzo. Doesn’t matter. We’ve earned the right, busting our butts day in and day out to build the fastest robot in the competition. Of course, we probably wouldn’t be standing here without the meddling of a certain cocky QB. His driving tips were invaluable, if not infuriating. My chest squeezes at the thought of Austin and my smile falters, but I force it back into place.
I will not let my broken heart dampen this moment.
The emcee congratulates us once again, and another round of applause breaks out in the audience. It’s loud and raucous and wholly inappropriate. I squint, focusing on the back corner of the auditorium.
“Holy shit,” Enzo says, nudging me with his elbow. “Is that the football team?”
Holy shit. It is the football team. They’ve taken over the last couple of rows, loud and proud in their Waverly jerseys. And they have signs. The homemade kind. With glitter.
It’s an amazing show of support from our teammates. Actually, no, it’s sweet as hell. And I know without a doubt this is Austin’s handiwork. Is he here? Now? I try to locate him in the crowd, but it’s hard to see their faces from this distance, so I scan the signs, my chest warming as I read the sappy messages. My heart skips a beat when I spot one that says: Kennedy Carter: #93 on the field, #1 in my <3!
He came, and he brought the whole damn team. My throat begins to close up, and tears build at the corners of my eyes. Austin lifts the sign over his head, reminding me of that old movie where the guy rocks a boom box to try and woo the girl he loves. But unlike the guy in the movie, he’s not down and out. He wears a brilliant smile. Which I guess makes sense since he refused to acknowledge the fact that I broke up with him.
Cocky bastard.
I laugh in spite of myself, a spark igniting low in my belly.
He came. For me.
Despite everything. Despite the fact that I broke up with him. Despite the fact that I called him a coward when it was my own fear talking. It’s impossible to focus on the closing ceremonies, so I don’t bother to try. I keep my eyes locked on Austin. I can feel his beautiful blue eyes boring into me, so I’m not surprised in the least when he stands for the remainder of ceremony, declaration held stubbornly over his head.
When the emcee finally wraps up, I’m down the steps like a shot, fighting through the sea of bodies to get to the back of the auditorium. Because Austin’s right about one thing. We have unfinished business.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Austin
The sea of people exiting the auditorium makes it damn near impossible to get to the stage. Which is ridiculous. At six-four, I should be able to shoulder my way right on through, but fighting against the tide of bodies is no easy feat. Especially with the giant poster board I’m toting. The thing’s massive, but no way was I leaving it behind. It’s part of my grand gesture.
I’m halfway to the stage when I spot her.
Kennedy.
She floats toward me, caught up in the mass exodus, determination burning in her eyes. She’s beautiful and fierce and she’s meeting me halfway. That has to be a good sign, right?
My heart beats double time as the distance between us closes. This is right. I can feel it in my gut.
We meet midway up the aisle and there are so many things I want to say to her, but I’m not sure where to start. I’ve given hundreds of speeches—to the team, in class, at fundraisers—but it’s hardly the same as pouring my heart out. Fact is, I suck balls when it comes to expressing my emotions. Probably should’ve practiced at home, but it’s too late for that now.
“Kennedy.”
“Nice sign. Love the glitter.” She gives me a tentative smile, but her arms are crossed over her chest. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out her guard’s up. Doesn’t matter. She’s here. I can work with it.
“Thanks. I made it myself.”
“I can tell.” Her lips begin to quiver and she presses them flat like it’d be the worst thing in the world to share a laugh right now.
I hate this distance between us. I sit the sign on an empty chair and take a step closer to her. She inches back like she thinks I’m going to go all caveman and sling her over my shoulder. Which is ridiculous, because that would totally be a last resort. “I know you said we’re over, but the thing is, I can’t accept that. I’ve never given up on anything in my life, and I’m sure as hell not going to give up on us. Not without a fight.”
She arches a brow, but I plow ahead before she can argue.
“The last couple of months have been some of the hardest of my life, but they’ve been made easier by having you at my side. Whether we’re fighting or playing ball or kissing, it doesn’t matter. You bring out the best in me and you make all the insanity—the press, the pressure, the speculation—easier to bear. Because it’s just static. None of it matters. Not when I’m with you.”
“Austin—” Whatever she’s going to say, the words die on her tongue and she bites her lip as if she can trap the rest inside. Fine by me, because I’m not finished yet. Hell, I’m just getting warmed up. My blood’s pumping fast and my skin’s hot and the desire to take her in my arms is so fucking strong it requires all my self-control not to act on it. As desperate as I am to touch her right now, she’s made it clear she needs space. I can respect that.
For now.
The last of the crowd trickles out of the auditorium, and I’m vaguely aware of the team gathering around us with their sparkly signs, but it doesn’t matter. They should hear what I have to say. Because with all the fanfare around the game, it’s easy to lose sight of what’s important, what really matters.
“I get it. I screwed up. I put the game before you, before my promise, and I broke your trust. I hurt you. Even though it’s the last thing I ever wanted to do, it doesn’t change the fact that I did it. I’m sorry. For all of it.”
She blinks up at me, her big dark eyes covered in a glassy sheen. Fuck. She’s going to cry. It’s probably not the first time. And it’s my fault. The knowledge is like a
knife jammed between my ribs.
“You broke your promise and missed the competition for a meeting you didn’t even care about. How exactly do you think I should feel about that?”
“You should be angry. So be angry. Throw up your hands. Rage at me. Tell me I’m a selfish bastard. Just don’t walk away from me. Please.” I pause, my breath coming fast and hard. “We both know you’re not breaking up with me because you don’t care about me. You’re breaking up with me because you care too much. You’re afraid I’ll hurt you again, like your father did. But I’m not him, Kennedy. And if you give me the chance, I’ll prove it. Over and over. Every day. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust.”
“I—” She falters, a tiny crease appearing between her brows. “I don’t know what to say. I want to believe you, but nothing’s changed. If you can’t even put your own dreams before the pressures of the game, how can I expect to compete?”
Is that what she thinks? That this is some kind of game to me? “There’s no competition. I’ll always choose you.”
She throws up her hands and plants them on her hips. “Football is your life. It’s what you were born to do and you’re going to be freaking unstoppable when you get to the NFL. I would never ask you to choose between me and your future. But I won’t play second string. And I can’t stand by and watch you give up on your dreams to make someone else’s come true.”
My breath whistles through my teeth. “I told my father the truth.”
She freezes, eyes wide. “You did?”
I nod. “This morning. A pretty smart woman made me realize that living someone else’s dream is no way to live.”
Her face softens and she takes a step closer. “How’d it go?”
“Better than expected,” I say, raking a hand through my hair. “My dad’s going to back off, let things play out how they will. It was a good talk, actually.”
“And Chicago? What about the optional practice?”
“I asked Coach to pass my regards to the scout and let him know I look forward to speaking with the coaching staff in the spring, when my eligibility expires. Being here for you today was more important than running drills. You were right about my priorities being screwed up, but I think I’ve got it all figured out now.”
I take a step closer, letting my hand skate over her cheek. She leans into my touch, eyes drifting shut. Her skin is flushed, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, but it’s the softness of her skin that does me in. She pretends to be so tough, so untouchable, but the truth is, underneath it all she’s vulnerable, in need of love and support, just like the rest of us.
“You did all that for me?”
I tilt her chin up to mine. I want her to see the truth of my words in my eyes. “For us. So we can start fresh. No more secrets. No more lies. No more half-truths.”
“For us,” she says slowly as if trying out the words. “I like the sound of that.”
The smile that lights up her face is glorious. I can’t imagine going another day without it in my life. This moment is so damn perfect I don’t care who’s watching or listening. The guys might bust my balls for the rest of the season, but it’ll be worth it just to see that smile on her face. “I love you, Kennedy.”
Kennedy
He loves me? Warmth spreads through my body, and the words plant themselves deep in my chest, taking root immediately. It almost feels too good to be true. I told myself it was too much to hope for, that he might feel the same way. I thought— Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought. Not now. Not when he’s just laid his heart bare in front of the entire team.
Austin loves me.
And I know it’s true. It’s clear in the way he looks at me, with such tenderness and adoration. I don’t know how I missed it before when it’s so obvious now. I’m full to bursting with happiness, and when he smiles, I want to pepper his dimple with kisses.
But we have an audience, and I doubt they’re here for the PDA.
I look around at the smiling faces of our friends—our teammates—and my heart swells with pride. And not just because they have mad skills when it comes to glittery posters (although they do). I never expected to be a real part of this team, but the fact that they’re here is proof I’m one of them. Proof that everything I thought I knew about football players was wrong.
Sure, our comradery is different than what I shared with the women on the soccer team, but it’s no less precious to me. And I’m so grateful I have the opportunity to be part of such a close-knit team. I’ve learned a lot this season, about football, about life, even about myself.
I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world.
“Put the man out of his misery,” Coop says, giving me a playful wink. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?”
He’s right. Austin’s made himself vulnerable. With his father, the team, and with me. I love him all the more for it, and I owe him the same in return.
My heart thunders in my chest as I turn back to Austin, taking his hands in mine. I can see the tension in his shoulders, but if we’re going to wipe the slate clean, I need to get this off my chest. “I owe you an apology too. I shouldn’t have walked away the other day.” I take a steadying breath. “But it was easier to lash out than admit that all this time, from the first day we met on the soccer field, I’ve been projecting all the hurt and disappointment of my childhood onto you. It was easier to believe that given the chance, you’d hurt me just like my father did.”
Austin flinches, and I squeeze his hand.
“It was unfair of me to lay his mistakes at your feet in an attempt to protect myself. Especially when you’ve been nothing but supportive. You believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have a full scholarship or a place on the team. I wouldn’t have won first place today, because I wouldn’t have had Enzo to help me get Sparky ready in time. And if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have tried to reconnect with my dad.” He starts to protest, but I raise a hand to silence him. I steal a quick glance at my mom. She’s smiling so I can’t be doing too terrible a job with my apology. It’s not exactly sparkly signs, but it’s the best I’ve got. “Just because it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped, doesn’t make the lesson any less valuable. You’ve shown me it’s okay to be vulnerable and to take chances. And I love you for it.”
Austin’s breath hitches, and when I look into his eyes, I see myself reflected across a summer sky. I lay a hand over his heart. It beats a steady rhythm under my palm and it centers me.
“I love you for your sense of compassion and your need to protect the people you care about. I love you for your sense of humor and your desire to always do the right thing. I love the way you challenge me when I’m being stubborn, the way you hold me when we’re watching Riverdale, and the way you always kiss me good night. I love you for being you.”
We stare at each other for a beat. I’m not sure which of us moves first, maybe we move at the same time, but then our lips are crashing together, his mouth moving hungrily over mine as I press my body to his, trying to get closer to the man I love. Behind us, I hear the opening chords of “In Your Eyes” and I have a brief moment of validation—it was no coincidence that Austin held his sign over his head like a boom box after all—before I dismiss it and pour myself into the kiss.
The guys cheer and whistle, but Becca’s voice is loudest of them all as I claim my man, and when we finally break apart, I’m breathless.
Austin pulls me to his side, tucking me under his arm as he turns to the rest of the team. “Who knew you all were such romantics?” I tease.
“You ever need help with a completely over-the-top romantic gesture, Vaughn’s your man,” Parker says, slapping Vaughn on the back.
“Dude, I feel like your extensive knowledge of chick flicks is totally wasted. This shit is gold. It should get you laid every weekend,” Coop says with what I think is a touch of awe. “Even with the beard.”
“What’s wrong with his
beard?” Becca asks, which sets off a whole new round of razzing.
Vaughn’s cheeks flush a deep shade of scarlet, and I’m pretty sure it’s only the presence of my mom that keeps him from responding.
“Hey, now. Don’t go giving Vaughn all the credit,” Austin says indignantly. “The signs were my idea.”
“Of course they were.” I grab his hand and pull him toward my mom. Might as well get the introductions out of the way now that she’s been subjected to our big sloppy makeup kiss. Speaking of making up…I am so having dirty, loud makeup sex with the man I love tonight. Just the thought has me squeezing my thighs together in anticipation.
I must be making horny eyes, because Austin lowers his lips to my ear and whispers, “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I promise to make it worth the wait.”
The words remind me of our first night together, and desire coils low in my belly. Which is so not appropriate when I’m about to introduce the man candy to my mom. Fortunately, Austin takes the lead, giving me a moment to get my ovaries under control.
“Mrs. Carter,” he says, extending his hand to my mom and flashing a thousand-watt smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
“Austin.” She looks him over from head to toe as if assessing him for flaws. Good luck. The man has none that I’ve been able to find. And I’ve explored every inch of his rock-hard body. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to make it.”
“You and me both. The glitter took a little longer to dry than I expected.”
They laugh like old friends, and I look from Austin to my mom. “You knew about this?”
“Of course. Austin called me this morning while you were getting ready.” She reaches over and pats my arm. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I gave him the business for breaking my baby’s heart, but he sounded so contrite, I thought he might deserve one more chance.” She cuts her eyes at him. “But only one. Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”
Claiming Carter (Waverly Wildcats Book 1) Page 27
