Out of Play: A Sports Romance (Love in the Arena Book 2)

by Tirrell, Kayla

Em’s face burned under his gaze, and she glanced down at her feet. Her lips tipped up into a smile that matched his. When she looked back up, he was still looking at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

  “Worth it,” he mouthed back.

  A shiver went through her.

  Mason waved a hand in front of Grant’s face. Following Grant’s gaze, the athletic trainer glanced at Em and glared before his attention went back to his patient.

  Someone cleared their throat. Em turned back to her friends.

  Frida and Miriam both had smug expressions on their faces, and Em wondered when the two had become so in sync with one another. “What?”

  Frida laughed before she gave Em an over-the-top look of innocence. “What?”

  So that small exchange between her and Grant had not gone unnoticed. She bit her bottom lip.

  “You’ve got it so bad,” Frida said.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have anything. I was just looking over at Grant to make sure he was okay after what he did.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Miriam gave Frida a sly look. “It’s funny how the more you say you don’t like Grant, the less I believe you.”

  Frida waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Have you seen the way they try to interact all sneaky on Instagram?”

  “No.” Miriam gasped. “What do they do?”

  “They—”

  “If I was trying to be sneaky about it, I would DM him instead,” Em said. “But there’s nothing to be private about since there’s nothing going on.” Her words had gotten progressively louder, and she glanced over to Grant to make sure he hadn’t heard, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. There wasn’t anything going on. She was speaking the truth.

  The coach was talking to him now. The stern look on his face made Em think that Mason wasn’t the only one giving lectures.

  “Don’t worry,” Miriam said. “He didn’t hear you say there was nothing going on between you.”

  Frida giggled. “No trouble in paradise today.”

  Ugh. If she hadn’t known Frida since they were kids, and if Miriam wasn’t one of her only friends who loved the Storm as much as she did, Em would find new friends.

  No, that wasn’t true—not even close.

  But that didn’t mean she liked them teasing her about her non-crush on Grant.

  “I just got a great idea,” Miriam said, a wide smile on her face.

  A pit formed in Em’s stomach as the game went on forgotten. Whatever made Miriam look that gleeful was sure to be something that Em wouldn’t like.

  “So, you know how I’m the community outreach manager for the Storm, right?”

  Em gave her a look that said “duh.”

  “Well, Silas had this great idea earlier this season for some of the players to go visit local schools and read to the kids. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen you all season, or maybe it’s because there are so many elementary schools in the area—it’s hard to remember them all—but I can’t help but notice that they haven’t visited your school.”

  The pit in Em’s stomach got heavier. She sat down in one of the seats.

  Meanwhile, Frida started clapping her hands in front of her. “Oh, I like where this is going.”

  “I was thinking this would be the perfect time for the guys to do another visit. And guess who likes going to community events.”

  “Silas?” Em deadpanned.

  Miriam laughed. “Yeah, he does. But guess who else.”

  Em knew the answer Miriam was looking for, but refused to say his name out loud.

  “I think she means Grant,” Frida leaned down and whispered loudly.

  Em smacked her leg. “I know who she meant.”

  “Good, then there won’t be any surprises when he shows up to your classroom next week.”

  Next week? Em tried to ignore the way her heart thumped at the idea of seeing him outside of the arena.

  True to Miriam’s word, the school set up a visit with the Storm players—though when the day came, only one was able to show up. It wasn’t a surprise to Em that that player was none other than Grant Vaughn.

  Em was just finishing a lesson on volcanoes when there was a knock on the door. She was surprised when Frida’s face peaked through the crack when it opened.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Ms. O’Brien. You have a visitor.” She cleared her throat, though it sounded an awful lot like a stifled laugh. “Since I happened to be in the office when he arrived, I was happy to walk him to your classroom.”

  The visitor was obviously Grant, and even though she wasn’t sure how Miriam and Frida had pulled it off, Em was sure that the timing of his visit during the art teacher’s break was no coincidence.

  Em struggled to keep her voice even. “Let him in.”

  Frida opened the door wider, and Grant soon entered the classroom hunched over a pair of crutches wearing a small backpack. Even though he’d confirmed his sprain on social media, she’d almost forgotten he’d injured himself at the game. She hated seeing him like that. He was fit and...a guest in her classroom.

  This wasn’t the time to ogle him. She smiled at him as he slowly made his way to the front of the classroom. Thankfully, her students were all too young to notice the way her cheeks got redder the closer he got. She fought against the urge to fan her face as he stopped beside her.

  “Thanks for coming today.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  My pleasure. There were those pesky words again. They had the same effect on her as the first time he’d spoken them, and now she really wanted to fan her cheeks.

  She focused on her students instead. “Class, we have a special visitor today. This is Grant Vaughn. He’s a player for the Storm.”

  A hand immediately went up. Em pointed to the boy in the middle of the room. “Yes?”

  “What’s the Storm?”

  Em turned to Grant. “That’s a great question. Would you like to answer that for him, Mr. Vaughn?”

  He gave her a quizzical look. Non-teachers—especially younger adults—who came to her class always seemed put off by formal introductions. But rather than let him dwell on it, she gave him an encouraging nod.

  Grant adjusted his weight over the crutches. “The Storm is a professional arena soccer team based here in Waterfront.”

  Another student raised their hand. Grant called on him. “You have a question?”

  “What’s arena soccer?”

  Em stood back as he started describing the sport. It was short, engaging, and completely age-appropriate. Em was pleasantly surprised; not everyone knew how to talk to kids. When he was done with his spiel, he swung the black backpack from his back so that it was in front of him. With some careful maneuvering, he unzipped it and pulled out a stack of tickets. “And if you’re really good while I read, I promise to leave some free tickets with your teacher. Sound good?”

  Excited chatter went through the class.

  “The games are a lot of fun. And you know what the best part is?” Grant said. The room quieted. “Ms. O’Brien is a big soccer fan, and you’ll probably get to see her if you go.”

  Em’s kids were nine and ten. They were at an age where some of them still loved seeing teachers outside of school, while others were getting too cool for things like that. The mix of expressions showed the clear division of the students.

  Not missing a beat, he turned to Em and asked, “Did she tell you how I protected her at the last game?”

  She wanted to cover her face with her hands, but as their teacher, she needed to have some level of decorum. Em plastered a smile on her face and said through slightly gritted teeth, “As a matter of fact, I didn’t.”

  “Then I should tell it.”

  The kids all leaned forward as one of the girls asked if that was why he was on crutches.

  “That would be really cool, but no. I hurt my foot playing soccer.” Grant let out a good-natured chuckle. “I saved your teacher from a ball that flew into the stands.”

  “T
he balls go into the stands?” another kid asked.

  “Sometimes, and people can get really hurt if they get hit. Thankfully, I was there to make sure your teacher didn’t come to school with a giant bruise on her face.”

  There was more chatter between the students, though it seemed like the majority of them were impressed.

  Em wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream at Grant for being so charming or change her no-dating-players rule on the spot for the very same reasons. She stepped forward. “Arena soccer is very fun. And like Mr. Vaughn said, I enjoy going to the games. But he didn’t just come in to tell you stories about the Storm. He came to read a few books as well.”

  Some of the kids who enjoyed hearing about sports instead of reading books groaned, but she gave them her best do-not-question-me-unless-you-want-to-go-to-the-office look. It wasn’t a look Em used often, only when she needed her students to know that she was serious.

  When they settled, Em grabbed a chair for Grant to sit in. The smile he gave her in return melted her heart. He slowly eased into the seat and pulled a couple books out of his bag. They were the typical books kids this age enjoyed, and Em recognized all of them but one. It looked much older than the rest and had a very plain cover.

  Grant started with the unknown book. “This was one of my favorite books growing up. It’s called Red Riding: A Story of How Katy Tells Tony a Story Because It Is Raining.”

  That was one heck of a title, but Em was intrigued.

  “I have an older sister who was quite bossy when we were kids—still is. Our mom used to read us this book because she said Katy and Tony reminded her of us.” He lifted the book and started reading.

  The book was as silly as the title. It was a rainy day, so the older sister decided to tell her younger brother the tale of Little Red Riding Hood. It was sweet because the younger brother kept interrupting the older sister, and she kept correcting him in return.

  Em found herself laughing on more than one occasion and tried to imagine younger Grant as the precocious boy from the story. She shook her head. Nope, that wasn’t a good idea at all. If she imagined Grant as that sweet boy, she might be tempted to think he was a sweet guy. And no matter how wonderful he seemed now, Em knew that those first impressions could be deceiving.

  So could the second and third and fourth.

  She was thankful when Grant was done sharing that adorable book from his childhood and started reading something less personal. It was a book about monsters written by the latest celebrity turned children’s author.

  The entire time, the kids listened quietly and were respectful. And Em couldn’t help the pull she felt toward the man reading to them.

  Grant

  Grant loved reading to the kids.

  After being completely useless for the past few days, it was nice to feel like he was making a difference. Ever since his injury, he wasn’t able to participate in practices, though he still attended, and all of his workouts were modified. Grant wasn’t even allowed to dress out for the next few games. If it wasn’t for the fact that he lived with other players, he wouldn’t feel like he was a part of the team at all.

  Getting to go to a school in a Storm shirt with a stack of tickets was just what he needed. Seeing Em was a bonus.

  He finished reading the last story to the class and looked up at her for direction. He wasn’t sure if he should go back to telling soccer stories, pass out tickets, or leave. He didn’t want to leave.

  Em looked up at the clock on the wall before she walked over next to Grant. His heart raced as she got closer. Unaware of her effect on him, Em addressed her students. “We’ve got about five minutes until lunch. Grab your lunch box if you have one, and we’ll line up and go down to the cafeteria a little early.”

  The sound of talking and chairs scraping the floor soon filled the silence. Grant smiled and leaned over toward Em. “Breaking the rules in front of all these impressionable children. How do you sleep at night?”

  Don’t think about that, Grant.

  “I’m the teacher, I make the rules.” She winked playfully in his direction.

  He leaned over and picked up his bag. “Should I leave the tickets on your desk?”

  “Oh, right.” She reached out and took them from him. Her fingers brushed up against his, causing his heart to beat faster.

  Leaning against his crutch, he hitched his thumb at the door where the kids were lined up and waiting for their teacher. “Well, I guess I’d better get going.”

  Em bit her bottom lip. Too soft for her students to hear, she said, “If you’re hungry, you can stay and eat with the class.”

  He would have loved that, but there was a small problem. “I didn’t bring any cash, and I have a feeling the lunch ladies don’t accept American Express.”

  She smiled. “I have enough money in my account that I can treat you to a four-dollar meal. Hope you like corn dogs and baked fries.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were asking me on a lunch date.”

  Of course, he did know better. Em didn’t date players—a fact she made abundantly clear every time they talked.

  “I wouldn’t consider corn dogs anything special. Trust me, if we ever went on a real date, you’d know it.”

  Grant laughed at the way she stole the words he’d used about arena pizza. “I’d be happy to stay for this non-date lunch.”

  Em smiled at him once more before telling the line leader to start walking toward the cafeteria. Her students were quiet and orderly as they walked down the halls. Was she the kind of teacher who ruled with an iron fist? Grant didn’t think so; she was too playful, too sweet.

  “I usually eat in the teacher’s lounge since we have staff members that monitor lunches, but I think the kids would love it if you ate in the cafeteria.”

  “Will you be in there?”

  “Or course. I wouldn’t just throw you to the wolves like that.”

  “It’s good to know you’ve got my back,” he said, swinging his good foot in front of him for another step. He hated that he still wasn’t completely steady on his crutches and hoped Em didn’t notice.

  “Don’t get too excited, it gets really loud in there.”

  “And Storm games don’t?”

  “Good point.”

  Grant kept stealing glances at Em as they walked toward the cafeteria. How was it possible that she kept getting more beautiful every time he saw her? He debated telling her that as the students filed through the doors before them but lost his chance when another adult joined them.

  It was Frida, and she had a sly smile on her face. Her voice had a sing-song quality to it as she greeted them. “How’s it going?”

  A blush creeped up Em’s neck.

  Interesting.

  “Just fine. Why aren’t you in the teacher’s lounge, Ms. Hall?” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Oh? So, I’m Ms. Hall now?”

  “You’re right, you’re acting childish, so I definitely shouldn’t call you that.”

  Frida stuck her tongue out and earned an eye roll from Em.

  Grant couldn’t help but laugh at their interaction. It reminded him so much of his relationship with his sister.

  “You are not allowed to laugh, Mr. Vaughn.”

  Grant wiggled his eyebrows at Frida. “Looks like I still get to keep my grownup title.”

  Em glared at him, though the twitch of her mouth softened it. “You know what? Just for that, I should let Frida babysit you and go enjoy a quiet lunch in the teachers’ lounge—by myself.”

  “No,” Grant and Frida said in unison.

  Em’s eyes went back and forth between them. “Now I’m thinking I definitely need to go do that.”

  Frida put her arm over Em’s shoulders. “If anyone is going to the teachers’ lounge, it’s me. I’m just not cut out for the lunchroom. But enjoy your yummy lunch for me.”

  Grant’s pulse picked up at the look shared between the two women. When Em’s blush returned, the warm rush of v
ictory flooded into him: he was the yummy.

  Even though Frida had to know all about Em’s no-dating-players rule, he couldn’t help but enjoy knowing that he could get Em all flustered. It was only fair since she had the same effect on him.

  “I’ll see you guys later,” Frida said with a small wave over her shoulder and left.

  Once she was gone, the line seemed to move impossibly slower, and without Frida as a buffer between them, Grant was suddenly unsure of how to act with Em.

  “I want to thank you again for stopping that ball.”

  Grant released a breath, thankful she’d broken the awkward silence between them. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m glad you got to look like a hero in front of the kids today.” She grabbed both their trays. “But I hate that you might have made your ankle worse.”

  “I’m out for the next few games, regardless. I told you, I was happy to do it.”

  “Well, thank you...again.”

  “You’re welcome...again.” His smile was teasing, but the one she returned was full of warmth that spread through his body.

  When they’d made it through the line, Grant followed Em to a table. He knew they were eating in the cafeteria to spend time with the kids, but he was still surprised when Em plopped their trays right in the middle of a long table filled with third graders. At least they were sitting next to each other.

  With some careful maneuvering, he sat down on the stiff plastic bench. A dozen pairs of eyes were on him instantly. And almost as quickly, the questions started coming from all directions. The kids all wanted to know what position he played, how long he’d been playing, how much he made—he didn’t answer that one—what his favorite music was, and so on.

  He barely got a bite in with the constant barrage of questions, but he enjoyed every minute—even more than reading to them. Despite his injury, the kids treated him like a celebrity athlete. It was exactly the boost he needed to lift the sadness of being out for a few games.

  When he looked over at Em, he caught a satisfied smile on her lips. Did she know this would happen and how much it would mean? Already, he was having a hard time not falling for her.