This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2024 by Ginger Walls

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: hello@gingeralana.com.

First paperback edition February 2024

Illustration and Book Cover design by Ink & Laurel

ISBN 978-1-962755-01-6 (paperback)

www.GingerAlana.com

Contents

Epigraph

1. LAUREN

2. HART

3. LAUREN

4. HART

5. LAUREN

6. HART

7. LAUREN

8. HART

9. LAUREN

10. HART

11. LAUREN

12. HART

13. LAUREN

14. HART

15. LAUREN

16. HART

17. LAUREN

18. HART

19. LAUREN

20. HART

21. LAUREN

22. HART

23. LAUREN

24. HART

25. LAUREN

26. HART

27. LAUREN

28. HART

29. LAUREN

30. EPILOGUE

Translations

Thank You

About the Author

Also By

“It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” – Lewis Carroll

1

LAUREN

I am living a double life.

And tonight, everyone at Newhouse University is going to find out.

Tonight, people will learn there are two different sides to me. The Lauren I am on campus. Quiet. Introverted. Reserved. Invisible. And then the Lauren I am when I step on the dance floor. Loud. Bold. Fierce. Center of attention.

I read the text from my roommate Sydney one more time.

SYD:

I tried to talk them out of it. But they wouldn’t back down. We’re coming to The Warehouse tonight.

Shutting my eyes, I let out a long exhale. It shouldn’t surprise me that Sydney couldn’t talk her brother and his friends out of coming tonight. It’s move-in week, and everyone on campus has been talking about the new club that opened just outside of Montgomery over the summer.

It’s been the place to be the last few months. Everyone who is anyone local to Montgomery has been to The Warehouse at least once. And if you are part of a crew? You’ve been here every weekend trying to win a battle and, more importantly, earn respect for your crew.

I almost didn’t show up tonight with school starting next week. My intuition told me it would be a bad idea, and Sydney just confirmed I was right. I refuse to let Carter down, though.

Carter is the leader of the King’s Crew. I became a member a little over two years ago. It’s been one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Joining the crew gave me a temporary home.

Temporary.

That seems to be the only kind of home I’m allowed to have.

Being a member of the crew has become one of my biggest secrets. Sydney is the only person at school who knows about me dancing here tonight. Not anymore. I remind myself.

My double life isn’t that big of a deal. I worry because I don’t know what people will think of me when they see me dance.

I’m not ashamed. I don’t want to get on anyone’s radar for the wrong reasons. It’s happened before, and I’ve learned my lesson.

Neon LED lights bounce off the walls and around the building lighting up the multiple bars and dance floor. The Warehouse would be blacked out if wasn’t for the seizure inducing lights and the warm glow of sconces lining the walls.

I weave my way through a sea of black and gold. Alabama State is representing hard tonight. Rumor has it their step team is one of the best in the state.

Looking across the dance floor, there is a swarm of blue, black, and silver. Newhouse U decided to show up tonight too as I predicted. Perfect.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I already know what it’s going to say.

SYD

We just parked.

ME

K. I’ll go hide now.

SYD

You can’t hide from me, babe.

Don’t I know it.

Sydney and I have been roommates since Freshman year.

I tried keeping to myself like I always have in new places. I didn’t come to Alabama with the intention of making friends. I came here to start over and get an education at Newhouse University.

Sydney had other ideas. She wanted a friend and wormed her way into my heart in such a way that I didn’t know it was happening until it was too late.

I don’t know what I would do without her. It might be our last year living together, and I don’t like this emptiness I feel thinking about it.

As much as part of me is ready for what’s next. I also want to hold on to Sydney for as long as I can.

Even though I love her, I plan on avoiding Sydney. I need to stay focused and remember why I’m here. Winning. The grand prize tonight is five thousand dollars.

With so many dance crews from ASU, Huntingdon, and Newhouse, Carter thought it would be best to split our crew up. That means I’m dancing on my own, and so is Killer.

I wasn’t nervous when Carter first told me I was going solo.

Knowing Sydney is here.

Knowing Nash is here with his friends.

Knowing someone from campus might recognize me tomorrow.

I’m freaking out a little.

The Warehouse is starting to reach the point of capacity where you sweat standing still. Personal space is a precious commodity I will have to throw elbows for soon.

I move around the outer edge of the room, fighting my way between groups of people, all while keeping an eye out for Sydney and the guys.

“Can I get a glass of water, please?” I ask the bartender after I push my way through the crowd of bodies.

Maybe hydrating will help me release some of this nervous tension. One can hope.

“You ready?” A deep voice asks from behind my back. I nod. “You know what needs to be done, Lo?”

“I know, Carter.”

“Good.” He’s quietly stewing behind me. His warm breath hits my neck by my ear. “Just because you are back on campus doesn’t mean you’re out of everything.”

“I know, Carter. I’m not leaving them. You already know that. I’ve never let them down and won’t do it now. I need this as much as they do.” I’ve already proven myself to Carter over the years. It makes me angry that he still questions my loyalty.

“I’m here. Okay?”

“Okay.” Carter gives my hand a quick squeeze.

“Sorry, I know tonight is different for you since Newhouse is here. If you’re good, I’m good.” He doesn’t wait for my response. He leaves, melting back into the crowd.

Blowing out a steadying breath, I move my feet to find another corner to wait out the start of the competition. Carter’s words, although infuriating, are also a reminder of why I’m here to begin with. People are counting on me.

Carter is right, though. Tonight is different. There is something in the air. It isn’t the addition of all the college crews. I have a new energy, a hunger I haven’t felt before.

There is no way I’m letting anyone take a single step on that dance floor, thinking they have a shot at taking money from my crew. My family.

A lot of people are here for the accolades. They want the title. The college crews want to prove they are better than their rivals. Not me. I’m here for the coin. The dough. The Franklins. The paper. Call it whatever you want. I want to get paid.

I’m here to put food on the table. Help keep the kids in my neighborhood from doing something they shouldn’t just to have a full belly at night.

I moved across the country to Alabama before the ink could dry on my high school diploma. Once my scholarship came through for Newhouse, I felt hope. I almost didn’t recognize the feeling. It was so foreign to me.

I rented a two-bedroom trailer at Royal Oaks. It was nicer than my last place, and it was all mine until I moved into the dorms at Newhouse.

During the first few months, I kept a watchful eye on everyone who lived in the trailer park. Little kids were left alone while their parents went to work. Older ones snuck out at night to do lord knows what.

I may not know exactly what they were doing, but I know how it ends. I’ve been in their position. I’ve felt their desperation.

I still feel it some days.

Carter was the center of Royal Oaks. He moved around the trailer park and interacted with everyone. An obvious leader, Carter helped the only way he knew how. Legal or not.

I wanted to help too. I kept my trailer year-round since I needed a place to stay during breaks. It also allowed me the space to keep tabs on everyone.

A few days into winter break my freshman year, I witnessed my first dance battle.

I followed Carter to an old, abandoned building. It looked like something straight out of a dystopian movie. The brick walls were crumbling. There were boards over the windows.

Since there was no electricity, someone brought in generators for the lights and music. There were also a few portable outdoor heat lamps. Not sure why they bothered with those considering there was a giant hole in the roof and enough bodies filling the place to make you wish you could step into a walk-in freezer.

I hid in the crowd the best I could but found myself creeping toward the front when The Kings started dancing. I recognized everyone from Carter’s crew as people who’ve milled around my neighborhood. Some even spent afternoons camped on the roof of the trailer next door to mine.

After Carter finished dancing, he walked up to me with a menacing scowl. I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I simply stated, “I want in.” Then he took me by the elbow and smushed me in between Zeke and Emilio. Carter signaled something with his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, and walked away.

I didn’t see him for the rest of the night. The following day, he knocked on my trailer and asked me if I could dance. I said yes, and that was it. I was part of his crew.

Sweat drips down my back as I get boxed into the corner I’m hiding in. The Warehouse is a converted airplane hangar. The rolltop doors are wide open, making the air conditioning in here irrelevant as the Alabama heat sweeps in.

I push off the wall and make my way around the perimeter of The Warehouse, ignoring the pull of the music to the middle of the room where everyone is dancing.

The music, the lights, the energy of the people, it’s a siren’s call. My body begs me to migrate with the rest of the flock and let loose.

I rearrange the baseball cap on my head, covering more of my face. It might be dark, but it’s not enough to hide my identity. Every time a light sweeps across my face, blinding panic darts through my body.

I slurp down the last of my water and fight my way to the closest bar for a refill. I need to lower my body temperature and calm my nerves. I need to forget about Sydney and Nash and focus on my goal.

The bartender, Dave, rolls his eyes as he fills my glass. He hates wasting time on me, but he knows better than to ignore me since I’m under Carter’s protection.

I drop ten dollars on the bar top out of spite and respect. My mom worked in the service industry. If she didn’t get good tips, I didn’t eat. I don’t know who Dave has at home. If my ten dollars gets him more than peanut butter and bread next week, then he needs it more than me.

Walking away, I take a sip of my water. Damn, that’s refreshing. It is cooling down the fire of nerves flowing through my system. I sidestep a few people, slowly making my way to the wall in the back opposite the bar. I’m almost there when I hear my name.

“Lauren! Lo!” The voice pierces through the thrumming of the music. I turn around and come face to face with my roommate Sydney.

Damn it.

Way to be discreet, Syd. Geez! There is no way the guys won’t notice me now. There isn’t a chance in hell Nash or Koa will let their baby lamb walk too far from the herd with all the wolves out looking for their next prey.

“Hey, babe,” Sydney says as she steals my water and takes a giant gulp. “It is hot as Hades in here. Thanks, I needed that.” She hands me back my almost-empty drink. “You look cute, by the way. I almost didn’t recognize you.” Syd tugs on my hat.

“Pity you did.”

“Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad. I don’t know why you keep all this a secret anyways.”

It’s not something people at Newhouse need to know. I’m the only member of my crew who attends the University. Everyone else is either working, attending community college, or other activities. I’m not the type of person who puts myself on blast. But also, no one ever took the time to get to know me.

“You really don’t think it’s a big deal? I don’t want people to look at me differently. I don’t dance for attention.” I don’t want it. Maybe that’s the fear. For someone to finally see me. The real me. Not the watered-down version I am on campus.

“I think you are twenty-two years old and can do whatever you want with your life.”

“Right.” Syd rolls her eyes.

“I’ll prove it to you. Dance with me.” I start shaking my head before she can finish the sentence. Sydney places my glass of water on a nearby table. Then takes hold of both my hands.

“Sydney,” I snap. Nash and Koa are watching the two of us with the acuity of a secret service agent. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Lo, it’s the perfect idea. Consider this a warm-up. A prequel. If you can’t handle their reaction to the two of us dancing together, then I will fake a headache and make them take me home.”

“All of them?” I ask as my eyes wander over to Wyatt, Hart, and two other guys I’ve never seen before talking to Nash.

Sydney shakes her head. “I can’t promise that, but Nash and Koa would leave with me.” Suddenly the DJ mixes one track into the next, and Lizzo’s Juice is blasting across The Warehouse. Shit. There is no way I’m getting out of this now.

Sydney makes her ‘this is my song’ face and starts swaying her perfectly round hips and bouncing her shoulders to the beat. I can’t say no to that face, and she knows it. I also can’t turn down my girl Lizzo.

This is the kind of music we put on full blast in our dorm room and dance like no one is watching. That’s exactly what Sydney expects me to do now.

I start moving to the back beat of the song. Stopping every now and then, locking my body to emphasize a word in the lyrics. Sydney and I dance with dramatic flair. There is nothing sexy about the way we dance together. Unlike other girls in the club, we aren’t dancing to get a man’s attention. We are doing it for ourselves.

It doesn’t take long to forget about the six pairs of eyes drilling into the back of my skull and have fun with Syd.

When the chorus hits, we sync up our movements as if we choreographed the whole routine. We haven’t. It’s Syd’s song and one we dance to all the time when we want to feel good.

Before I know it, the song is over, and we have even more eyes on us than I first thought.

One of which is a furious Emilio. I raise an eyebrow and dare him to say something. Of course, he takes the challenge. A few long strides, and he’s in my face.

“What are you doing?” He sneers. “You know the rules.”

“Easy there big guy.“ Emilio snaps his glare at Sydney. His glare would make most men cower in fear. Not Syd. She straightens her spine and lifts her chin. “If you want to join us, just ask. I’ll pencil you in on my dance card. Mkay?”

I look to the ceiling and let out a deep exhale. Placing a hand on Emilio’s chest, I push him away from Syd. “We were having fun, Emilio. It’s cool. None of that is in my routine. Let them watch. If that scares them, they aren’t prepared for what I will bring to them later.”

“Fine. Everyone is on edge. There is more competition than usual.”

“Where? I don’t see anyone here who can compete with the Kings.” A wolfish grin takes over half of Emilio’s mouth. He knows I’m right. “We got this. We will give Carter the shutout he wants. The crew, Killer, and me.” Emilio nods. Then scans the crowd.

“You know them?” Emilio flicks his eyes to his right. Syd and I swivel our heads towards the bar.

“That’s just my brother and his friends,” Syd explains. “Don’t let them scare you away.”

“Do I look like someone who scares easily, Princesa?“ Sydney’s eyes take a leisurely stroll over Emilio’s six-foot-two-inch frame. His shaved head. Tattoos crawling up his neck and biceps. Nose and ear piercings.

“They don’t scare you, but I do.” Sydney takes a step closer attempting to prove her point. Unfortunately, it backfires, and now she’s standing chest-to-chest with Emilio.

He leans down and whispers something in Syd’s ear that I can’t hear over the music. Whatever he said has put a pink flush on Sydney’s skin. She staggers back a step which triggers a cruel laugh from Emilio.

“I’ll see you later, Lo,” Emilio tells me before turning to Sydney. “Princesa,“ he says, then winks.

Sydney takes hold of my wrist, leading us toward her brother. Why I don’t fight her, I have no idea. I think I’m too stunned by what I just witnessed.

“What did he say to you? You’re blushing.” Syd looks at me, looks away, and then looks at me again. I’m getting concerned.

“Nothing I can repeat.” That sounds like Emilio. “I have never had anyone say such dirty things to me before. And I liked it.”

“Let’s get you a drink.”

“Yes. I definitely need one of those. How do you hang out with guys like that all time?”

“They don’t look at me like a Princesa,“ I snark.

“Brat,” she teases back.

What I don’t ask is how she can hang out with Koa, Wyatt, and Hart without stuttering and stammering over her words. These guys are gorgeous. Nash is too, but he’s her brother.

“Who was that?” Nash asks gruffly, as any brother would, I suppose. He’s protective of his sister. Koa is also waiting in the wings for our answer.

“Lauren’s friend.”

“No one.”

We answer at the same time.

I glare at Syd. Way to throw me under the bus. I don’t know Wyatt, Hart, or Koa well, if at all. I see them around campus in passing or briefly when I’m hanging out with Sydney. I think I’ve even had a class or two with one of them. I’ve never spoken to them. If they were around, I’d keep to myself like I always do.

Regardless, none of them, Nash included, has earned the right to know more about my personal life. It isn’t their concern who my friends are. They wouldn’t have bothered asking if I wasn’t with Sydney.

“A friend? You know him?” Nash narrows his eyes to me. They are a light honey color which glow under the lights. I nod instead of speaking. Concerned I will say the wrong thing in front of a bunch of people I don’t know.

Two of the guys I’ve never seen before, but they seem friendly with Hart. The word friendly is a loose term. Hart and the stranger to his right both look like caged rottweilers. They are ready to fight off anyone who poses a threat to Sydney, including me.

Nash places a hand on my back, leading me closer to the group. As Nash escorts me, I notice a slight flare of Hart’s nostril and a tick in his jaw. He isn’t very happy with me. I didn’t realize all of Nash’s friends were so protective over my best friend.

I know Nash, Koa, and Hart all played baseball together in High School. Sydney has told me multiple stories about them hanging out and going to parties. Even though Nash is a year behind us, he’s always been close with these guys.

“Who is he?” My eyes jump around to all the guys waiting for my answer. Wyatt and the other stranger I don’t know look amused by the whole situation.

“Give her a break Nash. She doesn’t answer to you, and neither do I. We're adults. We can have conversations with strangers if we want to. In fact, I see a few guys I wouldn’t mind having a little chat with.”

Without moving his penetrating stare off me, Nash says, “It’s currently not the strangers that concern me. How do you know him, Lauren? He looks like he’s in a gang.” Sydney laughs, and I glare at her. Technically we aren’t a gang. We’re a crew.

“He lives in her neighborhood. End of discussion.” Sydney stomps off toward the bar and maneuvers herself between the two guys I’ve never seen around Newhouse, so she can order a drink.

Nash takes one last look at me, shakes his head, and turns away to talk to Koa. I stand awkwardly, rubbing my palms together and nibbling on my bottom lip until Sydney returns with two beers. She passes me one. I waste no time taking a sip. I move to my right so she can stand between Nash and me.

Maybe if there is some space between us, he won’t ask me any more questions about my neighbor Emilio. Regrettably, this puts me far too close to Hart. I’m practically standing on his feet. The slightest tap on my shoulder would send me barreling into his arms.

“Hart, Wyatt, Koa, y’all remember my roommate, Lauren,” Sydney introduces me. I give them a slight nod. “Lauren, these two here,” she points to the two guys I’ve never met, “are Enzo and Marco. We went to high school with them, but they ditched us for ASU.” I smile and nod.

“They’re single,” Sydney stage whispers the last bit intended for my ears only. Naturally the music decides to cut out and switch tracks at this time.

EVERYONE. HEARD. HER.

“Good to know,” I mumble into the longneck of my beer. I swear she does this stuff to me on purpose to push me out of my comfort zone.

I should let her know she has succeeded. I’m completely uncomfortable. I’m ready to dissolve into the crowd, wait for my name to be called, get my money, and go home.

The guys carry on private conversations, occasionally glancing or glaring in my direction, depending on who it is.

Wyatt leans over Enzo and Marco to say something to Hart that causes his scowl to deepen. I bet he has some major forehead wrinkles hiding under his backward cap.

“What do you think?” Sydney asks, slinking her arm through mine.

I give her a cursory once over. “I love your outfit. You look hot tonight,” I tell her with a cheery tone.

“Thank you, but I’m not fishing for compliments here, and you know it. What do you think of the guys? Anyone strike your fancy?”

“First off, no more British television for you. Strike my fancy,“ I mumble. “And No.” I lie. Every single one of these guys is good looking. I’m not blind. I’m also not interested.

Nash is like a brother. Marco and Enzo are strangers. Wyatt is a playboy. Koa obviously hates me if I had to guess by the look on his face. And Hart doesn’t speak to anyone ever. He just stands around with a perma-scowl on his face. I don’t know how to deal with that.

“How are you immune to all of this?” Her head bobs toward the boys.

“If you’re asking me that question, it means there is someone here that you aren’t immune to. Who’s the lucky guy?” I ask directly into her ear. Sydney swallows hard. Then picks an invisible piece of lint off her skirt.

“It’s cute you think I’m going to answer you,” she says in a hushed tone. I could harass her for more information. It’s clear she’s not ready to share. I’ve been around Sydney enough to know she will talk when she needs to.

Enzo steps in front of Syd and me, enclosing us in a circle with him and Hart. I’m caught off guard by his eyes for a moment. They’re a beautiful hazel green with a band of gold in the middle. They remind me of mine. I’ve always been told I have pretty eyes, but I think his are even prettier.

“Sydney.” He gives her a curt nod.

“Enzo.” She nods back mocking him with a sly smile. I know this face. Damn it Syd. I give her a look that says to stop whatever she is trying to do because it won’t work.

“How do you know these guys?” Enzo asks me.

“I don’t.” I keep my answers concise. “I know her.” Enzo eyes me curiously but doesn’t push the conversation.

“I grew up living in the same neighborhood and playing baseball with them. I’ve known Hart my whole life,” Enzo adds. Hart grunts. I smile but stay quiet. I will blame it on the loud music and chaos of the club if anyone says something.

“Are you from Alabama?”

“No,” I say as Sydney says, “Lauren is from Seattle.” I throw a dagger in her direction for giving away my personal information for free.

“Seattle.” Enzo lets the word settle over him. “I’ve visited a few times when I was younger, but my father went there a lot for work. He traveled back and forth when I was a kid.” His eyes glaze over momentarily before he shakes out of whatever memory his mind trapped him in.

I’m not sure why he is oversharing about his dad with someone he just met. I would never do that.

Hart is quietly observing our entire interaction with laser precision. He glares at Enzo, who is now staring at me. It is all bizarre. I feel like I’m under a microscope. Like every twitch of my body will be documented for further examination.

I turn to Sydney for help, but she is deep in a conversation, more like a lecture, with Koa and Nash. Great. Just great. I need to get out of here before this situation becomes even more awkward.

“Why Alabama?” I tilt my head slightly, confused by Enzo’s question. “Why not stay in Washington State? Why did you come here?” Enzo says the word ‘here’ as if it’s a place I don’t belong. I open my mouth to defend my choice, but a large arm blocks my line of sight.

Hart has his hand on Enzo’s chest. With a sharp shake of his head, he calls off Enzo’s interrogation. Enzo’s eyes narrow on Hart. “Fine,” Enzo clips. “Lauren,” he says to me before stalking away to the bar with his brother.

I don’t understand what just happened or why Hart felt the need to intervene, but I’m grateful. Seattle isn’t something I talk about. All Sydney knows is that I lived there before college.

Seattle is in my past, and that is where I want to keep it.

“Th-Thank you,” I stammer out. Hart doesn’t respond in words or actions. He stares out into the crowd. His black eyes roam the sea of dancers. Now and then, a flash of light hits his eyes, and they turn a beautiful grey color.

Hart’s gaze flicks to me before scanning the crowd again. His lip twitches so fast I almost miss it. He’s pleased he caught me ogling him. I should be embarrassed, but for some reason, I’m not.

It’s not like I’m the only girl looking at Hart tonight. He is wearing the standard uniform of fuckboys everywhere. Low-slung jeans, a dark tee shirt that molds to his chest, shoulders, and biceps, a backward hat, and bright white kicks on his feet.

Raised veins and a smattering of black ink tattoos accentuate Hart’s skin. It’s the hard lines of his face that really pull you in.

You ache to be the girl who makes a guy like him crack. You know whatever he is hiding would be worth sacrificing part of yourself to see. You want to be the one who is powerful enough to bring a man like him to his knees.

Hart looks like he is the type of guy who would never let that happen. It doesn’t matter if he catches me looking at him. Hart would never let a woman get close enough to make him vulnerable.

“You need another drink.” Wyatt’s words and nearness make me jump. For some odd reason, I find myself retreating closer to Hart as if he is here purely for my protection.

“I’m good. But thanks.” I smile or attempt to.

“Oh, come on. One more. My treat, darlin’,“ Wyatt says, smiling big and showing off dimples that could easily zap the last of my working brain cells.

Darlin’. I’ve never been anyone’s darling. When Wyatt returns with a new drink, he places it in my hands. I mumble a thank you and take a sip. Secretly I’m plotting my revenge on Sydney for leaving me alone. Hot sauce in her toothpaste? Itching powder in her underwear?

“Have you been here before?” Wyatt asks with genuine interest. The question gets everyone’s attention in our group.

“Yes,” I reply, sipping my beer.

“When?” Nash asks with a crease in his brow.

“Before.” Do they expect details? Does Nash want to know how I spend all my free time with the residents of Royal Oaks trailer park? Does he want to know that I am a resident too?

“Who are you here with?” I run my eyes over everyone in our group and then back to Nash, trying to imply I’m only here with them. “Lauren, I didn’t even know you were coming tonight.”

“She doesn’t owe you an explanation, Nash,” Sydney tells her brother. “Lauren is a big girl. She can do whatever she wants. She can take care of herself.” I nod in agreement. Yeah, what she said.

“You’re not a big girl. You’re five foot nothing. I worry about you," Nash says. I lift my face to him to see under the bill of my hat.

“Don’t. I’m fine,” I grit out the words. I don’t want Nash worrying about me.

“Damn, Lauren. You’re worse than Hart,” Koa says, chuckling and nodding toward his buddy. “Neither of you can say more than three words at a time.” Hart tenses beside me. I slant my eyes on Koa. For some reason, I want to defend Hart. Which is absolutely ridiculous. He wouldn’t do the same for me.

“I’ll speak when someone asks me a question they have the right to know the answer to. I don’t owe any of you an explanation on what I do with my time or who I spend that time with.”

Someone coughs. There’s a low whistle from someone else. Nash searches my face to see if I’m bluffing. Maybe he thinks I’ll take the words back. I won’t. I mean every one of them.

Nash isn’t my brother. He’s not my boyfriend. He barely knows me. Nash squeezes my shoulder, dips his head, and walks toward the loft stairs.

2

HART

Nash whispers animatedly in Koa’s ear before sulking up the stairs like a petulant child. Koa scowls at Lauren, which raises my hackles. He turns his attention back to Sydney before I can figure out why.

I know as much about Lauren as I do the bartender who passed me a bottle of beer five minutes ago. She isn’t wrong for saying what she did. Why does everyone care who she is hanging out with? Is it just because of Sydney?

I don’t blame Lauren for being irritated with the guys. I don’t appreciate what Koa said any more than Lauren did. I would have punched him if he wasn’t one of my best friends.

Truthfully, friend or not, I still want to punch him. He knows why I am the way I am. That’s not why I want to hit him. It’s the stern gaze he keeps casting in Lauren’s direction. For some reason, it’s pissing me off.

Ever since she joined our group tonight, her presence has overwhelmed me. She is quiet. And tiny. Yet, I feel her all over me. Just standing beside her makes me feel like I’ve been rolling around in fiberglass.

My skin is on fire, and it is craving relief.

“Hart,” Marco gets my attention. “I’m going to go check on Nash. The little girl got to him.” I nod. I wish I knew what he means. Is Nash interested in Lauren? Or just friends? Why do I care? I’m friends with Nash, but he’s much closer to Marco since they are both a year behind the rest of us.

“Take Enzo.” Marco’s eyes question me for a second before agreeing. I don’t want Enzo to ask Lauren any more questions. She’s not his business any more than she is mine. Yet, I can’t stop myself from being concerned about her.

And when I get Enzo alone later, I plan on asking him why he is so interested in Sydney’s roommate. The brujita seems to affect all my friends.

Koa can’t stop glaring. Enzo is suddenly taking after his father with all his questions. Nash is acting like a child. Wyatt is flirting. And me? I’m three seconds from rubbing up against her like a tom cat to see if it puts out the fire burning under my skin.

“What was this place like over the summer?” Wyatt asks with his flirty eyes and dimples popping in his cheeks. I bet Lauren doesn’t even realize he’s attempting to flirt with her. He’s always been terrible at it. Luckily his lack of smooth pick-up lines hasn’t affected his success rating of actually getting laid.

I’m not any better. I don’t talk to girls. I never had to do it. I’m cold and callous on the surface. For some reason, that makes me attractive. I don’t have to do anything except send the girls on their way. I’m not interested in dating, hooking up, or anything that takes my focus off baseball.

“The same but different people,” Lauren answers dryly.

“Damn. You are like Hart, ain’t ya?” I risk a glimpse at Lauren. Not that I can see much of her with the baseball cap covering her face.

I can’t see much of Lauren at all. She is drowning in an oversized tee shirt and a pair of joggers. Is this a style choice or can she not find clothes that fit properly because of her size?

“Doubt it.” I grunt in agreement or annoyance. I’m not sure which. Wyatt smirks. He finds it hilarious that there is someone else who doesn’t talk a lot. He doesn’t understand the concept of being quiet.

“Yo! Koa, what’s up, man?” I barely hear Matt Dailey shout over the music. Lauren moves a millimeter in my direction at the sound of his voice. I only register the movement because her forearm grazes mine sending chills up my arm. Why didn’t she turn to Sydney?

Koa and Matt greet each other. Matt asks about Nash and if he’s around. Matt is the starting quarterback for Newhouse, and Nash is his backup. If Matt wasn’t a senior, Nash would be starting. He’s got the drive and the talent. I’m not saying that because he’s my friend. Nash has what it takes to make it big.

“Matt, what are you doing here?” Wyatt asks after bumping Matt’s fist. Matt nods toward me in a greeting. I just stare at him with narrowed eyes. I don’t like the guy. There is something off about him.

Witnessing Sydney and Lauren’s reaction to him raises more than one red flag on his behalf.

“Frat thing. I can’t complain, though. Lots of potential walking around the place. Once the competition starts, I’ll know exactly which girl is mine for the night.” Lauren shudders beside me. I want to do the same. My friends aren’t saints by any means, but I like to think they’re at least respectful.

“I heard something about the dance team competing tonight. Do you think they have a chance at winning this thing?” Wyatt asks. Lauren scoffs. She quickly realizes her mistake when it earns Matt’s unwanted attention.

“Who’s this?” Matt asks, licking his lips as he bobs his head toward Lauren. The words sound slimy as they leave his mouth.

“No one,” I answer before Wyatt gets a chance to say anything about her. I don’t know why I feel this need to protect her. When Lauren’s shoulders drop in relief, I know I did the right thing. “She’s leaving.”

Her finger grazes my thigh lighting up my entire body. What the fuck is that about? It could have been accidental. I’m taking it as a silent thank you. For whatever reason, Lauren doesn’t want to be around Matt.

Lauren has a quick conversation with Sydney before blending into the crowd. Sydney gives me a thankful smile which does nothing to ease the restlessness I feel. Is there history between Matt and Lauren?

“You’re such an asshole,” Matt says, laughing and shaking his head. Yes, I’m the asshole. Just the way I like it. “I like a girl who can follow orders. Fucking hot. You must know her if you have her trained already, Hart. Does she go to Newhouse, or is she local?”

Sydney is seconds from verbally attacking Matt, but I signal Koa to call her off. Reacting to Matt will only give away the fact that we know Lauren. Or Sydney does, rather.

“Never seen her here before,” Wyatt answers for the group. I’ve got to give it to the guy. That’s a smart answer. It’s neither a lie nor the truth.

“Right. Fair game then?” I lift my shoulder as if I don’t care either way. “Cool, if you’ll excuse me. I have a petite brunette to hunt down.” I choke the bottleneck in my hand, wishing it was Matt’s throat.

“Hey, Montgomery! How you feelin’ tonight?” The DJ shouts into the microphone, causing the warehouse to erupt. I force myself to calm down. “You ready to get this thing started? Let me hear you!”

“We should go upstairs with Nash, Marco, and Enzo. We can see better up there,” Koa shouts over the music and the crowd. I nod in agreement. I don’t care about watching the competition. I didn’t even want to leave the house tonight. Large crowds aren’t my thing. People, in general, aren’t my thing.

Koa leads Sydney upstairs with a hand on her back. Wyatt follows, pointing out members of our dance team as he goes. I recognize a few of them as girls who hang out around our practice sessions and games. They do nothing for me.

It’s obvious what they are interested in. It’s not getting to know me better. They want my future paycheck and everything that comes with it.

Nash, Enzo, and Marco are easy to find leaning against the guard rail of the loft. I push people out of my way until I’m standing next to Enzo. I’ll admit it’s the perfect spot to watch the competition. You can see everything up here. Including the little witch that has bedazzled all my friends.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Wyatt leans up on the rail to my right. We both scan the crowd below, watching the dance floor as it slowly clears out.

“I’m always quiet.”

“Yeah, but something has your head spinning. I can see your brain working.” I grunt. Not something. Someone.

She isn’t my problem. However, the thought of Matt taking Lauren home doesn’t sit well with me. Probably because she’s Sydney’s best friend, and I don’t want anyone to hurt Syd.

Wyatt is the wild card out of all my friends. A real cowboy. He grew up on a farm about an hour away. We met playing in a summer travel league.

Wyatt may be unpredictable, but when it comes to baseball, he is the most reliable and ruthless pitcher we have on the team. He has an annoying ability of reading people. A skill that has never worked in my favor.

“Not my scene.” I rake my calloused palms back and forth over the black iron railing.

“But check out that view.” Wyatt waves his hand over the crowd pointing out a few groups of girls still dancing.

The girls don’t even register in my brain. It’s the heated discussion between Lauren and three guys that has caught my attention. I recognize one of them is her neighbor Emilio.

One guy gets in her face, but she doesn’t flinch. Lauren spits words right back at him before he walks away, ending the conversation. Lauren attempts to go after him, but the third guy holds her back. Lauren appears to be angelic and docile on the surface, but the girl has grit. What else is she hiding?

This guy rubs her shoulders to calm her down. His chin rests on the top of her head while she presses her forehead into his chest.

It’s intimate. A private moment that’s too soft to be happening in the middle of a club. Yet, I can’t look away.

I don’t like this ache I feel in my chest, either. Or feeling like I should be the one calming her down. This thought is crazy and unwanted. I don’t even know the girl. Let alone like her enough to offer comfort. That is something I don’t do.

Lauren has always been someone who glided in and out of my periphery. I see her on the sidelines because she is close with Sydney. I doubt I would even recognize her if I passed her in the hallway at school. She is the last person I should want to comfort.

Enzo bumps my shoulder when he sees what catches my eye. “What do you know about her?” He asks. Enzo’s eyes are slits as he stares Lauren down.

“Nothing.” Enzo scoffs.

“How can you know nothing about the girl when she’s braiding hair and painting nails with Sydney every weekend?”

“Why do you care? You into her?”

Enzo shifts his attention to me. “If I was?” Enzo and I have never gone toe to toe over a girl before. Lauren isn’t his type. I know it’s an empty threat. I offer him the same response I did Matt. Indifference.

“I’m not into her.” I find this hard to believe with all the questions he asked Lauren. She’s caught his eye for one reason or another. “Nash, on the other hand,” he throws out casually, yet his words hit me like a bullet to my chest.

The entire warehouse blacks out before I can respond. When the lights pop on again, the girls lingering on the dance floor are gone, Lauren is a ghost in the crowd, and the DJ is calling someone named Killer to the floor.

A tall guy rocking a tank top and jeans hanging low on his hips, struts to the middle of the floor. Church by T-Pain pours out of the sound system. The dude lights the floor on fire with his feet. He’s good.

It takes me a minute to realize it’s the same guy who was in Lauren’s face earlier. Suddenly he’s not as good of a dancer as I initially thought.

As commanding as he is in the middle of the dance floor, Killer isn’t the person who holds me captive. It’s the firecracker in the front row watching him dance with malicious intent.

Lauren is bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready to pounce and take him out. Her hands are balled up in tiny fists. I can almost see the steam leaving her ears.

Killer’s time runs out. He exits the floor walking right in front of Lauren. A few words are spoken then he shoulders past her.

Marco passes out another round of beer. Just in time. I down half of mine in one swallow. I need to drown out the urge to follow Lauren like her personal bodyguard. How does someone so small amass the attention of an army of men?

The warehouse blacks out again. This is apparently going to happen every time someone new competes. Great.

Lauren cheers and wolf whistles as a group called The Kings take their marks. The music starts, and Lauren’s body starts moving to the beat.

Leaning lower onto the rail, I discreetly watch Lauren instead of the main act. Taking sips of my beer, I nod and grunt when Wyatt or Nash attempt to make conversation.

Lauren moves on instinct. Her body twists and turns as she gets lost in the pulse of the music. It’s like the music beats right into her veins. It was the same when she was dancing with Syd. I noticed. It was hard not to.

The crowd erupts, and once again, The Warehouse blacks out. The DJ hops on the mic and calls the Newhouse Dance Squad to the floor. Wyatt slaps my arm and asks me if I’m ready for the show. Nope. Don’t care. I doubt the girls will do anything original.

I stay locked in on Lauren in the dark. When the lights pop back on, I rock back on my heels. Lauren’s eyes are blazing back into mine. Her stare is unrelenting. What does she see? Can she see all that I’m hiding?

I don’t move. Not even a tick of my jaw. I won’t be the first to cave from our stand-off. Lauren is hard as stone. Her body doesn’t submit to the power of the music like before. Lauren stays frozen while everyone moves around her. Why? Did she feel my eyes on her the whole time?

“Dude!” Wyatt yells when the lights go out. “I need to get one of those dance team girls on my jock. I don’t even care which one. We should invite them all over tonight. Fuck.”

“No.” I clip back at him.

“Did you just watch the same thing I did?” No, and I didn’t want to. I want nothing to do with girls like that. They all want the same thing. They’re like one long chain of paper dolls. Nothing special about any of them.

“I’m in. Enzo, too,” Marco adds.

“No. Party,” I growl. Wyatt mumbles something about it being his house, too, and he can do what he wants.

The next group is called to the center of the floor. When the room lights up, Lauren is gone. I scan the crowd, but it’s impossible to find her. There are too many people eating up her five-foot-nothing stature.

Damn it.

“You good man?” Nash asks as I push off the railing.

No. I think the brujita just used some voodoo woo-woo shit on my brain because I am far from good right now. Lauren is making me feel something strange in my gut. My whole body is on edge. I don’t do this. I don’t let girls get to me. They are an unnecessary distraction.

“Yeah,” I lie and leave to get another beer from the bar. I’ll stay over here drinking until this shit show is over, or I manage to drown out this weird sensation pulsing through my body for some girl I know nothing about.

“Alright, alright. Next up for the final act tonight, we have LoLo dancing to Look at Me Now. Get your ass on the dance floor, girl!”

Thank fuck. I’m ready to go home. We agreed on the way here that we would leave once the competition is over.

“What the hell is Lauren doing down there?” Nash asks. You’ve got my attention now. I get back to the rail seconds before her song starts up. “Sydney, did you know about this?”

“She swore me to secrecy.”

“Son of a bitch,” Nash curses beside me. I’m trying to figure out why this upsets him so much when I catch the predatory gaze of Matt Dailey leering on the sidelines.

Lauren stands tall in the middle of the floor as Busta Rhymes starts talking. She makes a few moves, and once he shouts, ‘Let’s Go,’ she explodes. This is not how she was dancing earlier with Sydney.

Sydney and Wyatt are a constant stream of curse words and screams, cheering her on. Sydney keeps jumping up and down while Lauren has me chained to this rail.

The way she moves her body is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Her feet are frenetic, yet her upper body is in complete control. Lauren is dressed like a dude and moves with the cockiness of one too.

I have to remind myself that it’s Lauren down there. Sydney’s mysterious roommate. The girl that has flown under the radar for the past three years. Mierda.

Lauren’s limbs are boneless. She rolls her body up and down while she pops her hips out to the music. Now and then, she flips her shirt up, revealing her toned stomach. All the blood in my body travels south.

Lauren rolls her hips and grabs her crotch suggestively. I’m stunned, wondering what the hell I’m watching. She ends the routine by amping the crowd up. Boasting about taking home the paper tonight.

Our entire group is silent. Enzo is grinding his molars. Why I don’t know. Nash isn’t far behind him looking pissed off and irritated.

“I can’t believe you kept this a secret from all of us,” Koa tells Sydney.

“I didn’t think any of you would care what Lauren did in her free time. None of you have ever asked about my best friend except for Nash. Don’t act like you had the right to know. It wasn’t my story to tell anyway.”

“Are you going to tell us now that the secret is out?” Nash asks like he is owed answers.

“What do you think?” Sydney snarks. Nash huffs. “Look, she didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t need you judging her.”

“I wouldn’t have done that, and you know it,” Nash grits out. Sydney laughs, mocking him.

“Yes, you would have. You would have told her it was a bad idea and have tried to talk her out of it.”

“I have so many questions,” Nash mumbles.

“I’m sure you do, brother. And she might answer them.” Sydney drains the rest of her beer. “Let’s go find our girl.”

Sydney is leading the way. I know we’re headed in the wrong direction. It makes me sound loco, but I can feel Lauren. Whatever spell she cast during our face-off is working. I sense this strange connection to her. I wonder if she can feel it too. Of course, she can! It’s her fault this is happening.

I call out to Koa and nod to my left, pretending I have eyes on her. I don’t.

Pushing through a few more people, I stop in front of her. Lauren’s walking away from one of the groups that danced tonight. She does not look happy.

Lauren masks her face when she sees us approaching.

Who are you really, brujita?

Sydney flies past me and attacks Lauren with a giant bear hug. I let Nash, Koa, and Wyatt pass as well, allowing them to congratulate her while I hang in the back with Enzo and Marco.

“You killed it! Total badass!” Sydney beams.

“Did everyone watch?” Lauren asks. Then nibbles on the bottom of her lip and starts wringing her hands together.

“Yeah, babe. Don’t worry about that now.” Sydney runs her hands down Lauren’s arms.

“We did. And damn, girl. Where did you learn to dance like that?“ Wyatt eye bangs her so hard I want to punch him. Thankfully Nash notices, too, and smacks him upside the head.

“Around,” Lauren answers another one of my friends’ questions without giving anything away.

“You didn’t want me to know?” Nash asks.

Lauren exhales. “You didn’t need to know.” Nash rolls his eyes. “I can’t do this right now. I need to go.”

Nash isn’t satisfied, but he’s smart enough to let it go. Lauren tells everyone thank you again and says goodbye. She stops short when her eyes land on me. Lauren gives me a slight nod and then walks away.

The lights start strobing throughout the warehouse, and the DJ returns to the mic with an announcement.

“Y’all enjoy the show? Let me hear you, Montgomery!” The crowd screams. “I still can’t hear you, Montgomery.” I didn’t think it was possible, but everyone screams again, raising the noise level a few more decibels. “That’s what I’m talking ’bout. Let me get all the contestants out on the floor. It’s time to find out who won this thing.”

The seven of us bulldoze our way through the lingering crowd to be front and center for the results.

Unfortunately, it puts me in the crosshairs of the dance team. One girl looks at me like I’m her next snack. She’s clueless if she thinks she has a chance with me. Girls from school should know I’m not a sure thing. I guess that is part of the appeal.

Ignoring the unwanted attention, I take in the rest of the dancers. Everyone is confident and ready to hear the results. The dude Lauren was talking to, Killer, is standing like a soldier with his hands behind his back. He looks like a prized fighter.

Lauren is the only one who appears nervous. Her hands are fidgety at her side, and her left foot bounces uncontrollably. She has her head down, staring at the floor while she chews her bottom lip with worry.

I don’t get it. She exuded confidence while she was dancing. Lauren was one of the best competitors tonight. Yet right now, she is a cluster of nerves.

The lights swirl around on the dance floor, and the music changes tempo as the MC, or maybe the club owner, enters the spotlight.

“Damn, y’all showed up tonight!” The guy gestures to all the dancers standing behind him. “I’m not going to keep you waiting any longer. As you know, only the top three are in the money. Third place...” he pulls open one of the envelopes in his hand. “The Kings Crew!”

Three guys and two girls step into the middle of the floor. One of them is the same guy who was holding Lauren back from Killer earlier tonight, and the other is her neighbor Emilio.

“Second place...” the MC pulls open another envelope. He holds the card up in the air before he screams, “We have ourselves a BATTLE.” The whole room erupts with noise.

“What the fuck?” Nash asks, looking at us like we would know what that means.

“That’s right. We’ll have one more battle before we can determine our winner. Tonight’s battle is between...” He pauses for a few beats, building up the tension. “Killer and LoLo! You have to prove yourselves one more time. Everyone else, thanks for playing. Better luck next time.”

Mierda! Lauren did it.

Lauren promptly puts on her game face. She is ready to settle their fight from earlier on the floor. This girl switches her moods so fast she’s giving me whiplash.

One minute she looks like a terrified kitten, and the next she’s a fucking tiger stalking her next victim.

“Here are the rules.” The guy starts up again. “Each of you will get two rounds to dance—ninety seconds for each round. Your time starts once you step into the center. Who wants to go first?”

“Ladies first,” Killer says with a sly grin.

“Then, by all means, take the floor, Killer,” Lauren counters, backing away from the middle of the floor. The whole warehouse breaks out in a collective wave of oohs.

Apparently, the battle has already begun. Damn, this girl. The left side of my mouth tries to tick up in a smile, but I don’t allow it.

The music starts. Killer and Lauren begin moving around and sizing each other up. Suddenly Killer steps in the middle of the floor and starts dancing aggressively in Lauren’s face. He doesn’t hold anything back. He moves with fluidity. He plays with the crowd and with Lauren.

I’ve decided I do not like him.

I begin planning this guy’s murder. He’s floating down the Alabama River when a warm palm touches my back. I stiffen at the contact.

“Hey there,” she says as I remove her hand from my back. “You want to get out of here?” I glare at the girl. It’s the same one from the Newhouse dance team who was trying to get my attention earlier.

“No.”

“Seriously? I know you were checking me out,” she purrs. Not only is this girl full of herself, she is also delusional and not worth another second of my time.

It’s Lauren’s turn. She takes over and slides her body right up to Killer in a slick move. The crowd goes crazy. They love her and her tenacity. She has them eating out of the palm of her hands.

She dips low and rises, popping her hips out to the beat. Then she does some kind of intricate move with her hands and feet that has everyone screaming in awe.

“Hey,” she says, tugging on my arm this time. This girl is a barnacle.

“Go. Away.”

“You’re into this?” She waves her hand toward the dance floor. “She’s not even good.”

Lauren stares down her competition. There is a glint in her eye of pure determination. Lauren catalogs Killer’s every move as she mentally prepares her counterattack.

“She looks like a little boy dressed like that,” the barnacle says with disdain. And somehow, mixed with how she moves her body, Lauren looks hot as hell.

Lauren confirms my thoughts when she lifts her shirt, exposing her skin that glows under the lighting. The muscles in her abs and obliques flex as she rolls her body seductively.

“Fuuuuuck.” Wyatt is barely audible beside me as he bites his fisted knuckle. He catches my eye and knows I’m thinking the same thing. Part of me hates that he is seeing her like this. The other part of me questions why I hate it.

“Now that’s how you do it.” The DJ screams over the mic. Lauren stands on her tippy toes and says something angrily to Killer before taking her spot on the opposite side of the dance floor. “Judges, you’ve got five minutes.”

“Lauren! Lauren!” Sydney yells, giving Lauren two thumbs up like a glorified stage mom.

Lauren dips her head in our direction but doesn’t move from her place under the spotlight. Killer is still antagonizing the crowd on his side of the ring. I don’t know if he thinks he’s won or if this is just who he is. I’m going with the latter.

“I’m so nervous,” Sydney says, biting her nails.

“She’s not going to win. She would never make it on our squad. I don’t know how she even made it into the top three,” the leech continues to talk shit while trying to get some kind of grip on my arm. I move away, putting Wyatt in between the two of us.

“Get your eyes checked, darlin’,” Wyatt clips back at her. Why am I pissed that he’s defending Lauren? Because you wish you could speak the words and do it yourself.

“The results are in.” The guy gathers Killer and Lauren on either side of him. “In second place, LoLo! That makes Killer our champ once again tonight.” The crowd explodes, rushing Killer and congratulating him.

Lauren is fuming. The guy in charge tries to calm her down without success. When she storms off, I’m not the only one who has eyes on her.

It’s obvious several guys want to take their shot with her after she showed off on the dance floor. One, in particular, is asking for trouble. I don’t like the starved look on his face.

Sydney sees it too. “Hart, I need your help. Can you ride with Lauren and make sure she gets home? Koa can drive me home and give you a ride back to your place.”

My immediate response is no. I don’t want to be alone with Lauren, or anyone, in a confined space. Will she expect me to talk to her? I can’t do that. What if I try and… No. My heart clenches thinking about it.

“Please, Hart. I’m begging. Matt is bad news. He can’t get to her.” The word again goes unsaid, but I see it in her eyes.

“Fine. Text Lauren. Tell her I need a ride home.”

“Thank you. I owe you one. Take care of her, Hart,” she says, her voice laced with concern.

It’s absolute mayhem with everyone moving to the dance floor, the bar or leaving for the night. I slice through the crowd and head toward the parking lot to chase down the brujita.

3

LAUREN

“He just screwed all of us over. How can he do that?” I have never felt so betrayed before. Killer was family. You don’t steal from family. That’s exactly what he did. So selfish!

“I don’t know.”

“Aren’t you mad about this, Carter?”

“I am.”

“God. I hate it when you’re like this.” I stop walking across the parking lot and take a moment to blow out some of this pent-up rage. “I’m going to call Ray.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I don’t want you working there.”

“Well, Dad. That’s too bad. I need the money.“ Our crew needs the money. Doesn’t he realize that? If I can make good money at Ray’s, I can quit teaching at the Academy.

I knew I wouldn’t win. As soon as Killer told me he wasn’t sharing his cut, it was game over. Clearly, he paid off or promised the judges something.

“We aren’t that desperate, Lo. Don’t be stupid. That place isn’t for you.”

Not that desperate? I’m that desperate. I was going to call Ray either way. Textbooks set me back more than I expected. They ate through my savings from summer, making me short of what I’m usually at for the beginning of the semester.

“I’m calling him.” Carter flattens his lips, and his hands curl at his side.

“We can do more battles.” I scoff at his ridiculous suggestion. He can’t be serious.

“Why? So, they can cheat us out of that win too? I earned it tonight, and you know it!” I push a pointed finger into his chest.

“Calm down, Lo.” Carter’s eyes slide to his right as a group of guys walk by.

“Calm down, he says,” I mutter. “I can’t calm down. I’m angry! What are you going to do about Killer?”

“He’s on his own now. He made his choice. Killer made it known he wanted out.”

“And that’s why we can’t battle here. He’s going to keep paying people off. There’s no point. He’s got people in his back pocket somehow. I don’t want to do it anymore. I need to focus on school.”

“And you can do that while you work over at Ray’s place?” He raises a questioning eyebrow at me. I want to smack him. I want to tell him to stop treating me like a kid.

Carter may run the crew, but he doesn’t run me.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s all I seem to do lately.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“You stepped into my world. You should have kept to yourself if you didn’t want me in your business.” Carter’s words make my blood run cold. Keep your eyes on the ground. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t cause trouble. The words have been drilled into me every day growing up.

“I don’t want to fight with you. I’m tired.” I also need to get out of here and back to the dorms. There are too many people lurking in the parking lot.

It’s an eerie feeling being watched like this.

“Yeah, okay. You still meeting up with Los, Cash, and everybody on Tuesday?” I nod. “I’ll make sure they get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Text me when you get home.” He looks around at the mingling crowd, gives me a slight nod, and walks away between a row of cars.

I reacclimate myself with the parking lot and set a quick pace toward my car. Navigating the parking lot is just as bad as inside the club. You have to deal with clusters of people and dodging cars that are backing out of parking spots.

Behind me, I hear the familiar sound of feet shuffling and a low timber of taunting voices. I don’t dare turn around. That is the beginning of a fight, and I want nothing to do with it.

I slide into the driver’s seat of my Civic and throw my bag into the backseat. I rip my hat off and toss it back there too. After reworking my hair into a top knot, I check my phone before starting the engine. Sydney has already texted me.

SYD

Where are you? Are you okay?

Me

In my car. I’m good. Mad I lost, but I’ll be fine.

SYD

You were robbed, babe. You’ll get them next time.

ME

There won’t be a next time. I’m done with it. I just want to go home and go to sleep.

Clutching my phone, I groan and knock my head on the steering wheel. I’m over today. Between dealing with Killer and Carter. Then seeing Matt again. I’m done. Maybe Carter is right. Maybe I shouldn’t take Ray up on his job offer.

Ray’s is a honky tonk off campus where the bartenders wear fitted jeans and tiny tank tops while serving drinks and dancing on the bar.

Ray has been trying to recruit me for a while now. He’s been sending his son Tyler to scout for him at our battles around town and at The Warehouse all summer. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tyler slummed it somewhere in the shadows tonight. Ready to report back to dear old Dad.

Exhaling a deep breath, I unlock my phone to call up Ray. I don’t have the time to work there. I wasn’t joking about that. My classes are intense as I finish my degree. Not to mention I need to find a paid internship or a job when I graduate. I don’t plan on living in a trailer park forever.

That’s exactly why I need to call Ray and get a job. The more money I can make and save now, the better.

I’m about to hit the talk button when the passenger door swings open. A six-foot giant drops into the seat, rocking my car.

I swivel my head slowly to my right. Hart’s angry face is right there, staring back at me. He is not happy. Not that he ever really is. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile once.

I’m completely stunned by his presence. Why is he here? In my car. Shouldn’t he be off hooking up with someone? Isn’t that what guys like him do this time of night?

Hart doesn’t say anything. It’s on brand for him. I’ve never heard him say more than a few words at a time in my presence.

His eyes lock with mine. They are hardened black orbs. If it wasn’t for the tick of the muscle in his cheek, I would think Hart had been paralyzed.

I don’t want to risk breathing. There is a maelstrom of emotions roaring through his dark eyes. I try to decipher what his face is saying. He’s impossible to read.

A low growl rolls in his throat. It reverberates through my body. Hart leans over the center console of my car and threads his arm between me and the steering wheel. The lock on the door clicks, trapping me in the car with him.

My insides start rioting when he exhales a shallow breath near my ear. Hart opens his mouth to speak but struggles to form the words. I still don’t know why he is here, but I can tell he is upset. Either at me or himself. I’m not sure.

“Sorry.” The word is out of my mouth before I fully understand why or what I’m apologizing for. The relief on his face is instant.

Hart falls back in the passenger seat. Slowly the sandalwood and wintergreen fog is lifted, and I regain my motor skills.

With my head clear, I ask, “Why are you here?” Hart taps the top of my hand that’s still clutching my phone. His touch sends a ripple of goosebumps up my arm.

I unlock my phone and check my text messages. There is one unread from Sydney.

SYD

Speaking of going home. Can you give Hart a ride if you see him?

We lost him in the crowd.

Thanks, babe! See you later.

Hart smirks. I exhale. I place my phone in the console. Then put on my seat belt. I nod for Hart to do the same before I start the engine. “I’m only doing this because Sydney asked, and I’m tired. It’s been a long night. I’m ready to go home so I can wallow alone in the dark.”

Hart’s eyes go wide. I hate that I rambled. He doesn’t need to know what I’m feeling. I’m sure he doesn’t care, either.

The parking lot is gridlocked. I keep checking the rearview mirror. All I see are cars inching slowly toward the exit. With my car in reverse, I wait for a break in the line so I can start edging out of my parking spot.

I’m about to start backing out when my phone starts ringing. It’s Sydney. “Can you answer that for me and put her on speaker?” If Hart is taken aback by my request, he doesn’t show it.

Hart answers my phone and balances it on his muscular thigh. The guy knows how to wear a pair of jeans. “Hey Syd,” I say, flicking my eye to my phone, which is criminally close to Hart’s crotch. Damn it.

“Hey, babe. Did you find Hart?”

“No,” I answer. Hart raises an eyebrow.

“Oh. Okay.” Sydney murmurs a few words to someone in the car with her.

“He found me.” Hart grunts. I smirk this time. “We’re making our way out of this disaster of a parking lot.”

“It’s terrible. We just got on the main road.” Lucky. “Are you sure you’re good? I can’t believe Matt had the nerve to come up and talk to you. Did I hear things right? Did he ask who you were? That’s messed up, Lauren.”

Hart white knuckles my phone. He must like Matt as much as I do. “Sydney, don’t worry about it. I didn’t see him the rest of the night.”

“Good. That’s good. How’s Hart?”

“Uh, fine.” I squirm in my seat. Hart stretches his leg, stealing my attention from the road for a second. “You’re on speakerphone, Syd.”

“Hi, Hart.”

“Sydney.” Hart’s voice is thick and rich.

“Um, was everything okay?” Sydney asks tentatively. It makes me wonder if there is more to Hart being in my car than him needing a ride home.

“Sí,“ Hart answers as he pulls out his phone and fires off a text to someone.

“Thank goodness.” Sydney and Koa mumble words back and forth to each other. “Koa said fine.” Hart nods even though no one can see him on the other side of the line. “We’ll see you both at the dorms soon.” Syd hangs up before I can ask what that means.

“I thought I was taking you home. You’re coming to my dorm?” Hart nods. Does his current hook-up live in my dorm? Why does that irritate me? Don’t be stupid, Lauren. “Did something happen? Is Sydney okay?” Hart angles his head toward me,

“She’s fine brujita.“ Whatever that means. I need to talk to Sydney in the morning and find out what happened while I was competing. I’ve obviously missed something.

It’s silent in the car. It’s a nice change from the chaos of the club. I don’t feel as uncomfortable as I thought I would be, considering Hart is a stranger. I never would have given Hart a ride home without our mutual connection to Nash and Sydney.

The silence gives room for all these thoughts to float through my brain. Getting paid is at the forefront. “What am I going to do about Ray’s? Think Lauren. The money will be good. You need money. But is it worth it? There’s a reason Carter doesn’t want me working there. It has nothing to do with life balance. Carter is also overprotective of me. So, how bad could Ray’s really be?”

“Bad,” Hart snaps. I flick my head at him. Was I talking out loud? In front of Hart? Shit.

“I wasn’t asking you.” His eyebrows hit his hairline as if to ask, really? It was so quiet I forgot he was in the car. “I talk out loud to myself. A lot. It’s how I work things out in my head.“ Not that he needs to know the inner workings of my brain.

“Who’s Carter?” Hart asks, staring at his phone, mindlessly texting. I tap my thumb on the steering wheel, deciding how to answer. Or if I even want to. It’s none of his business.

“Carter is...no one you need to worry about.” Hart makes a humming noise at my answer. How did he take that? Does he think Carter is my boyfriend? Do I want him to think Carter is my boyfriend? No, I don’t. Should I tell him he’s not? Hart chuckles quietly, which makes my cheeks burn.

“I didn’t say any of that out loud, did I?” I chew on my bottom lip nervously until he answers.

“No.” His laughter is deep and throaty and tunnels its way under my skin. Hart goes silent when he catches me watching him as if he’s surprised, he laughed to begin with. I almost want to say something else to hear Hart laugh again.

I take the exit for Newhouse. The first signs of campus life slowly creep into view. Banners hang from light posts. Students roam the sidewalks in small clusters. Most likely making their way back home after a night at the Armory.

Pulling into the parking lot in front of my dorm, I spot Koa’s Camaro. It’s candy apple red and can’t be missed.

Hart pops out of the car before I cut the engine off. My car door opens while I’m gathering my bag, hat, and some trash from dinner in my back seat.

“Thanks.”

I expected him to head to Koa’s car. Instead, he follows behind me with the palm of his hand hoovering over my back.

“I’m guessing Koa is waiting with Syd.” It’s the only reason for him to walk me to my door that I can think of.

“You think too much,” Hart says. I stop walking and stare at him, but he ignores me. Instead, he looks at the wall over my head, avoiding eye contact.

“How do you know I’m thinking anything?” Hart looks me dead in the eyes, shocking me. For the second time tonight, I’m hit with the intensity of Hart’s eyes. They are black holes that suck you deep into their depths with no promise of an escape.

Hart lifts his hand and smooths a thumb over my eyebrow. “Twitches,” he says as I look up at him under the fluorescent light of the stairway. Hart moves his hand to my elbow and urges me up the steps.

The door to my dorm room opens as I approach. “Hi, Lo! Bye, Lo!” Charlie runs across the hall back to her room, laughing. I shake my head. That girl is crazy.

“About time Lauren.” Syd greets me as I’m shutting the door. “Charlie wants to hang out tonight. You want to come?”

“You’re kidding, right? No way. I’m exhausted. Didn’t you con Nash into helping you move in the rest of your stuff tomorrow?”

“More like he conned me. He wants to do it early in the morning. What is wrong with my brother?” Sydney turns to Koa. “Can you help with that? And you too?” she asks Hart.

“Nash already asked,” Koa informs Syd. “We’ll be there. You ready to go, man?” Koa stands up from the couch and stretches. Sydney’s absentmindedly licking her lips as her eyes roam over the exposed skin at Koa’s waist.

I snatch the tea towel on the oven handle and throw it at Syd’s face. For the drool. I mouth at her while I mimic wiping my chin. Hart chokes on a laugh earning him a glare from Syd.

I wonder if there is any history between Koa and Sydney from high school. She’s never mentioned anything except being friends with him.

Koa doesn’t say much to me as he leaves but hugs Sydney goodbye. Hart stands silently in the living room. He has such an intimidating presence.

“I’m just going to....” Sydney’s voice trails off, and she throws a thumb over her shoulder before hurrying to her bedroom.

Hart waits until her door closes before veering his attention to me. He closes the distance between us in a few strides. I keep my chin up and look him directly in the eyes.

Getting locked in staring contests with each other seems to be our thing. It’s happened more than once tonight. It feels like we’re doing more than staring. It’s almost like he is trying to communicate with me. Oddly enough, I think if I were to get to know him better, I would be able to understand Hart without having to say much.

But tonight, I have no idea what he’s thinking. Hart lifts a hand to smooth out my eyebrow. My mouth tugs with a small smile. He already knows too much about me.

“Dulce sueños brujita. No lances más hechizos esta noche,“ Hart croons. I have no idea what he is saying but his voice makes my knees weak.

I lock the door behind him. I want to sink to the floor, but if I don’t get to my room and pretend to be asleep in the next five minutes, Sydney will be on my butt, asking me for the play-by-play.

As soon as I cross the threshold of my room, I hear the click of Syd’s door. “Oh, Lauren, you have some explaining to do.” She races into my room and tackles me onto the bed.

“You first. What’s up with you and Koa? And what happened tonight that I needed to give Hart a ride home in the first place?” Sydney stands up and straightens her clothes.

“You know what. I’m kind of tired. It’s been a long night.” Syd fake yawns as she backs her way out of my room.

“I see you, Syd. You can’t hide from me either.”

“Our secrets survive another day, sister.” I was about to tell Syd I didn’t have any secrets, but that would be a lie. I have so many secrets. I think my secrets have secrets.

“Syd, there’s nothing to say. He barely spoke to me the entire time we were together.”

“Then what was all that sweet dreams stuff he just said?”

“You know Spanish? What else did he say?”

“I know a little. I didn’t pick up on all of it. He definitely said sweet dreams to you. It was kind of hot.” It was very hot. I can’t read into it because while his words might have been nice, the gleam in his eye said something else.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I gave him a ride home because you asked me to. Nothing else happened. I don’t think I’m his type anyway.”

“What smart, beautiful, funny, caring? Yeah, guys don’t usually go for women as perfect as you.”

“Love you, Syd!”

“Enough to wake up early and help me move my stuff in?” Syd pouts and puts her hands together to plead with me. I groan and throw a pillow at her. She throws it back. “Thanks, babe. I love you too.”

4

HART

“Where’s Syd?” Koa asks Nash when we pull up to Nash and Syd’s childhood home.

“She just left with Lauren and a car full of boxes.”

“And there’s still more?” Koa is baffled. So am I. Everything I brought to the townhouse fit in a duffle bag. It’s not like we live far away from campus and can’t come home if we need something.

“Bro. Don’t get me started. She wants a bookshelf and some chair that is ‘perfect for reading.’ Apparently, Lauren doesn’t share hers. Then there’s also a dozen or so boxes full of books,” Nash says with a roll of his eyes.

The three of us make quick work loading up Nash’s truck. It wasn’t without a few curse words or complaints, though. Then I remembered we had to bring it back up to their dorm room and said a few more choice words in Spanish that would earn me a smack in the head by my abuela if she was here.

“How did Wyatt get out of this?” I ask as we search for a parking spot in the lot outside the girl’s residence hall.

“He said he had something to take care of. That could mean anything with Wy,” Nash answered.

That is an understatement. As long as I’ve known Wyatt, he has been involved in one thing or another. Rarely was it something that didn’t lead to trouble. I blame the fact that he grew up secluded on his family farm. He gets bored easily and chooses chaos to stimulate his brain.

Grabbing a box out of the back of the truck, I follow Koa and Nash through the door and up to the second floor. Sweat is coating my back and forearms making it more difficult to hold on to the box I’m carrying.

As I walk through their door, I smell her—coconut, mint, sunshine, and whatever else the little witch uses for her potions and spells. I can’t believe I let her get to me last night. When I told her to have sweet dreams and not to cast any more spells, the desire to kiss her was strong. I wonder what she would have done if I did.

I’m over it now. I woke up this morning with a clear head. My focus is back on school, baseball, and getting drafted. I’m not going to risk being distracted now. Even if the brujita intrigues me.

“You can put the boxes in the corner there.” Syd points to the far-left corner of their shared living room. “I need the bookshelf in my room before I can unpack all of these beauties.” Syd has a dreamy, lost-in-love look in her eyes. I have never seen anyone so excited about books before.

“Syd, where’s Lauren?” Nash asks as I step out of the room to make another run down to the truck.

“In her room.”

“I need to talk to her.”

They are both quiet, making me think the conversation is over, but then Syd says, “You need to give her space. Lauren has a lot going on right now. She doesn’t need you butting in her life.”

What else does Lauren have going on? Memories of Matt tailing her through the club has me grinding my molars. Then there’s whatever she has going on with Emilio and that other guy she was hanging out with. I can’t forget about her considering a job at Ray’s bar either.

That has my gut clenching. Lauren doesn’t belong in a place like Ray’s. It’s not the worst bar in town but far from the classiest. I’ve been there with the baseball team a few times. I’ve never walked out of there without witnessing at least one fight and multiple guys pushing boundaries with the girls who worked there.

I hustle down the stairs and back with two boxes this time. I don’t need them questioning me and realizing thoughts of Lauren are slowing me down. I shouldn’t be thinking about her period. The fact that I am is annoying.

“Less talking. More moving. I don’t want to be here all day,” I snap at Nash and Sydney, who are still bickering with each other.

When Lauren sweeps into the living room, I practically trip over my feet. She’s wearing a cropped tank top and cutoff jean shorts so short the lining of the pockets peek below the hem. Mierda! Her legs look phenomenal.

I’m still getting my fill when Nash moves in front of her blocking my view. I drop the boxes on the floor by the others with a loud bang. Nash and Lauren flinch. I don’t know if it’s from me dropping the boxes or Sydney’s loud shriek.

“My babies! Hart, do not manhandle my books like that. I swear if there is one bend of a cover or a scuff of a spine, you will pay.” I roll my eyes. She’s being ridiculous. Her books are fine. “That’s it. You’re off duty until it’s time for the furniture. You can help Lo in the kitchen.”

I quirk an eyebrow at Lauren. “Sunday dinner.” Lauren shrugs a shoulder like it’s obvious.

“Can we talk?” Nash asks, bringing Lauren’s attention back to him.

“What about my stuff that is currently baking in the back of your truck?”

“Koa is still making trips. It’s not my fault you fired Hart. This will only take a second anyway.” Nash informs her.

I move to one of the stools they have tucked under the breakfast bar. For a dorm room, their kitchen is a decent size. It’s almost as big as ours at the townhouse. They lack the counter space we have, but the peninsula jutting out past the oven gives them enough room to chop shit and eat if they want.

“I’m sorry about last night, Lauren. Are you okay?” Nash places his hands on her bare shoulders.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Why does everyone seem so concerned about me? Is there something I should know?” Lauren takes a small step away from Nash and glares at Sydney, then at me.

All the heat coming from Lauren is hotter than the Alabama sun baking Syd’s books. The brujita has fire.

“I wasn’t there for you when Matt came around and-”

“You feel guilty.” Lauren cuts him off. Why would Nash feel guilty? He’s not pulling Matt’s strings.

“If it weren’t for me, you never would have been at that party. He never would have....” Nash rolls his lips, and his nostrils flare. What did Matt do? I look at Syd, and it’s clear I’m the only one who doesn’t know the details. I need the whole story. No, you don’t. She isn’t your problem.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about anything. I wanted to be at the party. I wanted to talk to him. It’s all in the past now. Let it go, Nash. I have.”

“He followed you around the club, Lo.”

“He what?” Lauren pulls her head back in horror.

“Matt hunted you down at the club last night. You’re a game to him now. You fought him off once. That makes you more attractive to him. He followed you outside. If it wasn’t for Hart, who knows what would have happened.”

“What did you do?” Lauren turns her petite frame toward me. One, two, three steps, and she’s in front of me. “What happened?” She practically demands, then thinks better of it. “Por favor.”

My skin heats up like a five-alarm fire when Lauren speaks to me in Spanish. A simple word. Please. Then it dawns on me that she may know I’ve been calling her a little witch.

“You can stop worrying. I have no idea what you’ve been saying to me. I only know a few basics in Spanish. I took Italian in high school. But I need you to tell me what happened between you and Matt.”

I study her. She appears more annoyed than scared. Lauren doesn’t think Matt is a threat. Good. Neither do I.

“Nothing.” Lauren’s eyes narrow. Her fingers drum on the island near my forearm. Her black polished nails are so short they don’t even click on the counter.

Matt followed her through the parking lot like a stalker. I caught up with him just before Lauren reached her car and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. I made it known that Lauren is off-limits. Matt walked away with his limbs still attached. So yeah, nothing happened.

If he continues to be a problem, I can’t promise our next meeting will have the same ending.

With a curt nod, she swivels her attention back to Nash. “See. Nothing happened. Stop worrying. Stop feeling guilty.”

Nash’s hands ball into fists of frustration. He stalks over to Lauren, which causes her to back up in between my legs. My hand goes to her hip to stop her from getting too close or maybe pull her closer.

Nash tracks the movement. His eyes flick to mine. He’s either mad that I’m touching Lauren or because I’m not telling her what really happened with Matt.

“Nash, I swear if you don’t drop this.” Lauren’s body is vibrating with anger. I give her a light squeeze to ground her. Lauren inhales a deep breath and lets it go. “I can’t think about what almost happened anymore. I’m here. I’m okay.”

Nash tries to interrupt her, but she holds up a hand. “If Hart had words with him like you’re saying, then I’m sure he’ll leave me alone. He’s pretty scary.” I grunt. “When he wants to be.”

“Fine,” Nash relents.

“Great. Now that we have this settled. My books are still baking.” Syd claps her hands to get everyone moving. Lauren heads to the fridge. Tying her hair up in a messy bun as she goes.

She pulls out a bunch of ingredients and lays them on the counter. Lauren bends down to retrieve a large pot from the lower cabinets. I groan internally at the way her ass looks in those shorts. Who knew she was hiding all that underneath baggy sweats?

“I need your help with the bookshelf,” Koa says as he punches me in the shoulder. I want to remind him that Syd put me on kitchen duty. Except, I’m not exactly helping in here either. I am enjoying the view.

Once all the pieces to Sydney’s bookshelf and chair are hauled upstairs, I’m dripping sweat. I lift the hem of my shirt and wipe the sweat off my face. I’m seconds from plopping into a plushy oversized chair in the living room when Syd gasps, drawing my attention to her.

I just ran up and down the stairs a dozen times. My calves are burning. I need to sit down, and this chair looks like a giant cloud I want to sink into it.

“I don’t think so, Hart,” Lauren says from the kitchen as I’m squatting over the chair. “You are too sweaty to sit in my chair.“ She points to the high back chair at the bar I was sitting at earlier. Indicating that is where I belong.

“You look hot,” Lauren says as she hands me a cold bottle of water. My eyebrows shoot to my hairline under the bill of my ballcap. “Sweaty. Gross. Disgusting. Dehydrated,” she explains.

I uncap the water and gulp down half the bottle. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Here.” Lauren slides a plastic cutting board and knife toward me. Then a few onions and jalapenos get placed in front of me. “Dice. Chop. Whatever. Make them tiny and all the same size if you can.” I stare blankly at her and then at the vegetables. “This is punishment for victimizing Syd’s books. You should know better,” she teases me.

She’s right. I should. Lauren leans on the counter across from me. The movement pushes her tits together. As nice as they are, I can’t stop thinking about the view from behind. I discreetly adjust myself in my seat.

“One time, I left one of her books I borrowed open and face down on the coffee table,” Lauren says, oblivious to all the ways I’m imagining her pinned against the kitchen counter. I mentally shake my head clear and focus on Lauren’s story.

“It was less than three minutes while I went to the bathroom. She lost it. Didn’t talk to me for two days.” I grin. That sounds like Syd.

I take off my cap, rough up my mess of curls, and flip it back on the other way. Lauren clears her throat, gives me a half smile, then busies herself with the dishes in the sink. I should probably wash my hands before I get started.

With a smirk on my face, I crowd Lauren at the sink. Her shoulder rubs against my bicep. I reach over her arms and pump some soap into my hands.

My movements don’t slow her down. She continues to scrape at the dish she’s trying to clean. Do I have any effect on her at all, or is she good at hiding it?

“Towel?” I ask.

She bobs her head behind her. “Top drawer.”

Lauren finishes up at the sink. Then focuses on the pot full of water on the stove. She adds several spices and uncooked rice into the boiling water. It smells like home.

I try to focus on cutting vegetables. I can’t seem to take my eyes off Lauren. I wipe my eye with the back of my hand so I can see what I’m doing. Damn onions. These tears are blinding me. Lauren snickers as she grabs a handful of the onions, I painstakingly diced off my cutting board and drops them in a sauté pan.

“Not funny,” I growl.

“It kind of is. I cry every time too. I’ve tried all the tricks. Lighting a candle, chewing gum, and eating bread. Nothing worked. I even tried goggles once when I was a kid.” Lauren laughs at herself.

This girl is a conundrum. She is a mixture of tough and sweet. Hard and Soft. Friendly yet also closed off. I can’t figure her out.

“I bet you were cute.” Her eyes meet mine in surprise while she continues to push onions around the pan. “With the goggles.” What the hell? Shut up, man!

“I’m five-three. I’m always cute.” She grins at me, and that smile hits me in the chest. Mierda. This is not happening.

“You’re talkative today.” I nod. Considering I’ve never spoken to Lauren before last night, I can see how she would classify me as talkative, even if I’m far from it.

I would say she is the one who is surprisingly talkative today. I wasn’t sure what to expect this morning, but seeing Lauren so friendly was not it.

“You don’t like to talk.” It’s not a question. I don’t respond. It isn’t that I don’t like to talk. I don’t feel comfortable talking. For most of my life, I got teased because I had a stutter.

Around fourth or fifth grade, the bullying was so bad I stopped talking altogether unless absolutely necessary. Even then, it was clipped one-word answers.

In middle school, I was almost six feet tall. I was quiet and brooding. I was the tough guy with an attitude problem because I chose to hide the speech impediment I didn’t grow out of until I was in tenth grade.

It worked all through high school. No one messed with me. Girls thought my closed-off demeanor was attractive for whatever reason. Not that I ever entertained their advances.

Despite the loneliness I felt, and the deception of my character, I decided to continue the silent act in college. My dark hair and eyes help me pull off the grumpy, asshole jock persona well.

I don’t care what anyone thinks, anyway. No one here matters except for my close friends. I’m here to play baseball and get drafted. Not get caught up with girls and parties.

Lauren takes the rest of the onions and jalapenos I’ve chopped and throws them into the pan with a few pounds of ground beef. Who is she cooking all of this for?

“What are you making?” I ask, leaning over the pot and inhaling the cumin, coriander, and whatever else is simmering.

“Oh, it’s just a beef skillet. A little rice and ground beef. Some spices. Onions.” She elbows my side. “It’s simple and feeds a lot of people.”

“Are you feeding a lot of people?” Lauren stirs the rice ignoring my question.

“It also makes great leftovers. Syd and I can eat this all week,” she finally says. “You can take some home if you want. Here. Try a bite.” Lauren gets a spoon from a drawer and dips it into the mixture of ground beef, rice, jalapenos, and onions.

My hand covers hers like an oversized baseball mitt when I take control of the spoon. Lauren’s eyes flick from our hands to my lips as I blow on the steaming food. This feels more intimate than taste testing should be.

I place the spoon in my mouth, and the flavor explodes over my tongue. I’m hit with heat from the jalapenos and freshness from the lime juice she squeezed in at the last minute.

“Well, what do you think? Good, right? I know it’s good.” I start to laugh at her confidence but end up coughing when a piece of food goes down my throat the wrong way. “Too spicy for you?”

“Nothing is too spicy for me brujita,“ I say, staring her down. Lauren doesn’t flinch.

“We’ll see about that.” My smile surprises her. I can’t help it. Lauren has a light about her I didn’t expect. She is also extremely fierce. Last night I thought she was a tough girl with a hard shell. Turns out she is as misunderstood as I am.

What else is she hiding under her armor?

A door closes from across the apartment. Nash and Koa enter the room, with Syd following close behind. Koa slaps his hand on the counter, leaving several screws behind.

“Extra pieces,” Koa explains. We had to take apart Sydney’s bookshelves to get them up the narrow staircase. They’ve spent the last hour piecing it back together.

“Are you sure the whole thing isn’t going to collapse as soon as I put my books on the shelves? Maybe you should check one more time to see where all of those go.” Syd circles a finger around the three screws lying on the counter.

“It will be fine, Syd. That thing isn’t going anywhere. If it does, I’ll fix it for you.”

“If my bookshelf collapses, you will be buying me new books, Koa.”

“Whatever you need, Syd,” he says, smoothing out the tension in Syd’s shoulders.

“I’m getting out of here, sis.” Nash hugs Syd. He looks at Lauren and nods. He’s not happy Lauren has called off his big brother patrol. It’s obvious to me Lauren likes to take care of herself. I’m surprised Nash hasn’t picked up on that yet. Not that I blame him for trying.

“Thanks for the help, Nash. I appreciate it. I owe y’all one.”

“You ready to go?” Koa asks me. “I still want to hit up the cages.”

“Yeah,” I answer. I hesitate in the kitchen. Usually, I’m the one ready to leave and hide in my room for the rest of the day. This girl has me struggling to walk out the door.

Silently, Lauren hands me a to-go container of her Mexican skillet. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You earned it.”

With one last smile from Lauren, I walk out the door and wonder if I’ll ever see her again. And more importantly, why it makes me sad I probably won’t.

5

LAUREN

My first class this morning went by in a blur. I’m convinced I was asleep for half of it. Not exactly how I wanted to start the day. The two cups of coffee Syd made me are just now starting to work their magic.

It’s only the second week of school, and I’m already feeling behind. I blame Carter. I’ve been staying later than I normally do for our Sunday dinners.

Every Sunday, the Royal Oaks community comes together and serves a neighborhood potluck. It’s something I started after I moved in. The pain of going to bed hungry is a familiar one.

This is my way to help. It isn’t much, but I think my mom would be proud of me. It’s something she would do if she were here.

I spent most of last night arguing with Carter and Emilio about getting a job at Ray’s now that competing is off the table. They handled me with kid gloves and said they had everything under control.

I hate it when they do that. In a year, I will be on my own. If I really thought about it, I’ve been on my own for a long time.

The look on Emilio’s face when Carter said, “they had a plan,“ makes me nervous. He paled out, and his eyes went blank. Like he was resigned to his fate. Which can only mean one thing. They are getting back into underground fighting.

How can they think that is better than me working at Ray’s? It doesn’t make sense. I make a decent amount teaching dance classes at the Academy, but it isn’t enough. I use a portion of that money to rent a room at the community center to teach dance to a few of the older kids from Royal Oaks.

I also use my paycheck for food, clothing, and whatever else I can afford to provide for them. The rest of my crew does the same. That’s why we competed at the Warehouse. Each dancer kept a small percentage of the winnings, and the rest goes to helping our community. And it still isn’t enough.

Without the competitions, the kids will suffer. We easily brought in five grand a month competing. Sure, we could still compete and maybe scrape in second or third place now that they are rigged. But is it worth the effort? It’s a lot of work practicing and learning new routines.

Ray’s isn’t guaranteed money either. I’ve heard some girls bring in five hundred dollars a weekend. That’s a lot of rice and beans. I don’t know if I can say no to that.

I skip a step, rushing into Wilson Hall, where most of my communication and journalism classes are located. I’m taking five classes this semester. One less than last year, but I doubt it will be any easier.

Morelli’s advanced reporting class is held in the largest lecture hall in the communication building. This class is so popular it’s reserved for seniors. He is some hot-shot investigative reporter who travels all over the country chasing high profile stories. He even did some war correspondent stuff fifteen years ago that made him notorious in the industry.

If he’s as good as everyone says, I need this class. I don’t have the connections to get a job. I’m determined to have the talent. It wouldn’t hurt to make a good impression on my professors and get a few letters of recommendation.

I scan the auditorium-style seating for an empty spot. The class is already pretty full. There are a few open seats between clusters of students. Last week I got here early enough to avoid this last-minute scramble for a chair.

I spot an open seat next to a mousy-looking brunette. Style-wise, we are opposites. She’s wearing a cardigan and plaid skirt, and I’m in a faded band tee and ripped jeans. She looks just as nervous as I feel on the inside, being surrounded by so many people.

My feet falter on the steps when I glance up a few rows and spot Hart. I haven’t seen him since he helped Syd last weekend. He’s sitting in the middle of a harem of beautiful girls. There is a frown on his face and a bend in his brow. I smile at him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. I guess I should have expected that.

I thought maybe we were becoming friends or at least settled on a truce of sorts. I shake off the idea. You can’t become friends with a guy who is angry all the time. He is the opposite of friendly. But he was nice when it was just the two of us. Was that just an act?

“Hi,” I say to the brunette beside me as I take my seat. “I’m Lauren.” The girl stares at my extended hand like I have a disease.

“Hi, I’m Tess," she says, finally shaking my hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m nervous. I don’t really like being around this many people.” Tess smiles wryly.

“Me too.”

I pull a notebook, pencil, and pen out of my bag. My friend Wren, who lives across the hall, bought a few of us a set of, and I quote, ‘the best pens you have ever used in your life.’ They came in packs of ten different colors. She suggested using one color for notes, one for assignments, blah blah blah... I kind of zoned out. I don’t have the mental capacity to be as type A as Wren.

The class quiets when a pair of Italian loafers click across the linoleum floor at the front of the room. Professor Morelli is tall with dark wavy hair. He’s wearing an expensive looking navy suit with matching tie. This is the first time we’ve been graced by his presence. Last week his teaching assistant went over the syllabus. That was the extent of our class time.

A few students squirm in their seats when Morelli surveys the crowd. I sit up straighter and push my shoulders back. I’ve learned confidence, whether it’s all bravado or not, is the best way to avoid being called on in class.

“Welcome to Advanced Reporting. If you don’t know who I am, let me introduce myself. I’m Professor Morelli. This class won’t be easy, but I promise you will walk out of here a better reporter than when you walked in.”

Morelli moves to the front of his desk, leans against it, and crosses his arm. His eyes flit around the room, not really looking at anyone but also assessing us as if he could get a read on our capabilities without having seen any of our work.

“Besides your mid-term and final, this class has two assignments. There is no wiggle room. If you mess up, if you don’t put in the work, you will fail.

“In the lectures, I will teach you how to gather information, what questions to ask, and learn to differentiate between solid leads and dead ends. You will then take this knowledge and put it to the test.” Morelli clears his throat and then takes a sip of water.

“You and your partner.” A few groans echo around the room. “Yes. A partner. You need to be able to work with others. You also need to fight for your voice to be heard. It is too easy to be influenced by others and get lost.

“You and your partner will unearth a story. Your job is to investigate and report the truth. Or what you believe the truth to be. Because the truth is sometimes just an opinion. A conclusion you have come to based on the evidence presented to you.” He shrugs his shoulder casually. “Your story can be something happening on campus or off. I don’t want to limit you, but I do expect evidence of your investigation.”

I flip through the syllabus and find what ‘evidence of investigation’ means. Tape recordings, photos, and written interviews.

“You will also flip on your partner and investigate them. Whether you write a human-interest piece, or an exposé is up to you and how well you can extract a story from your partner.” Morelli grins sardonically.

I need the right partner. Someone who won’t dig into my past. That is a place I don’t want to go again. I need someone who will be okay with submitting a surface-level story.

I turn to Tess. She is just as scared as I am. “Hey,” I whisper. “You want to be partners?”

“Yes,” Tess says, blowing out a breath of relief. The rest of the class seems to have the same idea as whispers rise around the room.

Morelli holds up a hand. “You can stop corroborating. I’ve already picked your partner.” Damn it. Morelli has a stack of papers stapled together in his hand. He flips to the last page and scans the paper looking for something. His shoulders slump before flipping the pages to the front of the stack again. Weird.

“You will be partnered up alphabetically by last name. When I call your name, raise your hand, then find a seat next to your new partner. Exchange numbers, e-mails, whatever you need to do. I will leave the rest to you.”

I tune out Professor Morelli’s voice and start jotting down ideas for the investigative story. I want to report on something taboo. With so many people in the class, the story needs to grab his attention. It needs to be memorable.

“Hart,” Morelli calls out. Please tell me there is at least one person between Hart and me. I don’t want to be partnered with him. You are such a little liar. “Hickman.” I raise my hand because I’m a rule follower.

I feel the heat of Hart’s stare on me. It’s something I’m starting to recognize, and unfortunately, I like it. I like it way too much.

Last weekend I felt him looking at me as soon as I walked out of my room. He soaked up my body like a sponge. Absorbing every detail of me. Not that I didn’t do the same to him. The man is really nice to look at it.

I don’t move from my seat. I can’t seem to make my legs work. He is sitting beside all those girls. If he were to send me away.... I’ll just wait until Morelli is finished calling names. Those girls should be with their partners by then.

A muscular thigh with a hint of a tattoo hidden by gym shorts enters my peripheral. Tess makes a tiny squeak noise. “Move.” The voice thunders from above. The guy, whom I didn’t really notice sitting beside me, starts shuffling his things into his backpack.

“Hi, brujita,“ Hart murmurs as he takes over the seat next to me. I don’t know why, but the fact he came to me melts a small piece of my icy, abandoned heart.

“Hi,” I say back. Hart eyes my notebook, and I quickly flip it closed. Suddenly, wanting to write about a taboo topic doesn’t seem like such a good idea. Not with Hart as my partner.

He doesn’t comment if he happened to read what I have written down. Hart passes me his phone. A blank text message opened up on the screen.

“Text yourself,” he demands. I hesitate before typing in my phone number and sending myself a quick message.

Hart stands back up. “Let’s go,” he says, pocketing his phone.

“Where?” I question him because I’m curious, but some part of me knows that I would follow him no matter where we’re going. I pack up my backpack, offer Tess a tiny wave, and follow him out the door.

“Shouldn’t we stay until Morelli dismisses us?” Hart shakes his head. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Lunch. I’m hungry.” Hart lifts my backpack off my shoulder when he notices I struggle to keep it there. “Maldito. What do you have in here?”

“If it’s too heavy for you, I can carry it myself,” I tease him. He flexes his bicep in response. Basically, telling me he could carry a thousand backpacks if I had to guess by the size and definition of his arm. No doubt hard earned in the gym along with hours swinging a baseball bat.

“How do you know I don’t already have lunch plans or other things to do?” He raises an eyebrow. Do you? “Yes.” I was going to eat something at home before my last class, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Ignoring me, Hart’s palm finds the small of my back, and he ushers me forward across the quad. We pass students walking to and from classes. Some are sprawled out on the lawn under towering trees. Why, I don’t know. It’s insanely hot today. Or maybe that’s just the heat radiating off Hart.

“Do people always stare at you when you walk around on campus?” Hart grunts. Does he not like being famous? That is surprising. Most athletes soak up that kind of attention.

Straight ahead is a tiny strip mall of shops. One of which is The Round Table. A popular cafe that offers sandwiches, soups, and salads. I don’t eat here. It’s expensive compared to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or grabbing something at the cafeteria on campus. My scholarship came with a small allowance for food. I don’t waste a penny of it.

Hart opens the door for me. I've noticed it's something it does every time. Whoever raised him did it right.

I’m instantly hit with the blessing that is air conditioning. My entire body sags in appreciation.

Then I remember I don’t have the money to pay for this. I might have a dollar and some change, but that’s it. Almost everything I won last Saturday went to Carter. The rest I’ve saved for groceries and other necessities. Not ten-dollar cafe sandwiches.

If it isn’t awkward enough, I have to dig into my backpack while it hangs off Hart’s shoulder to find my wallet. Thankfully it’s in the front pocket, and I don’t need to stand on my tippy toes to get it. Just as I suspected. A dollar, a few quarters, and dimes, but mostly pennies.

We move up a few spaces in the line. The Round Table might be busy, but they are efficient in getting sandwiches into the hands of hungry students. I eye the menu looking for anything under two dollars. There isn’t much except for a bag of chips. That will have to do until I can get back to the dorm.

“Welcome to The Round Table. What can I get you?” The employee looks at me expectantly.

I chew on my lip, contemplating how it will look ordering a single bag of chips while, in truth, I’m so hungry I could probably eat two of their sandwich combos.

“Number five,” Hart orders as he crowds me from behind.

“To drink?”

“Water.” A meaty palm lands on my shoulder. His other hand reaches in front of me and takes my wallet from me. “My treat brujita," he whispers in my ear. "Order.” Hart gives me a quick squeeze, then takes a step back, giving me space.

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell him. The guy at the register huffs a breath. We are wasting his time.

“Order,” Hart commands again.

“Thank you for waiting. I’ll take a number three, large, with a diet coke. Oh, and one of those brownies,” I point to the case of desserts on the counter. “The big one in the back. Actually, make it two.” I grin.

These aren’t just regular brownies. We’re talking chocolate brownies with layers of icing spilling over the sides.

“What?” I ask Hart. He’s looking at me like I did something weird. “You told me to order. I ordered.” I shrug my shoulder.

I grab napkins, straws, and condiments while waiting for our food. Tired of standing awkwardly while Hart smirks at me, I offer to find a table for us. There is a small two-seater available in the back.

“Is this the kid’s table?” he asks, setting down the tray of food.

“It’s all that was open.” Hart’s not lying, though. He barely fits. His legs stretch past my chair while my toes barely scrape the floor.

“Thanks for lunch. You didn’t have to do that. I feel bad. I’ll pay you back.”

“Hrmpf.” Hart places my sandwich in front of me. “Yet, your conscience didn’t stop you from ordering two brownies.”

“Fine. I don’t feel that bad.“ He chuckles. “But I do appreciate it.” I take a bite of my sandwich. My eyes practically roll to the back of my head.

“Good?”

“Yes,” I moan. Hart clears his throat. “I usually grab something from the cafeteria or my dorm. I’ve maybe come here once before. Even then, I just ordered fries. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know about this sandwich before. I could easily become addicted to it.”

I eat a few more bites. The tangy vinaigrette mixed with fresh basil and mozzarella cheese is dancing over my tastebuds. I do a little shimmy in my seat.

Hart watches me as I take bite after bite. I would normally feel self-conscious, but for some reason with him I don’t. I grin back at him with chipmunk cheeks. He seems entertained by my behavior.

“What kind of sandwich did you get?”

“A Cuban.” My nose scrunches in disgust at the giant pickle slices sticking out from under the bread roll.

“I don’t like pickles.” Hart’s hand stops moving before the sandwich reaches his mouth. “Haven’t since I was a kid. It’s the slimy texture. It feels weird in my mouth.” Hart raises an eyebrow and his mouth twists into a smile.

“You might like this. Do you want a taste?” There is a playfulness in his voice I’m not used to from him. Is he teasing me about his…My thoughts trail off and my cheeks flame.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, staring down at my food.

We eat quietly until I’m picking at breadcrumbs. “So, are you cool with being my partner?” Hart flicks a fry into his mouth. The way his jaw flexes as he chews is distracting.

“Yes.” I don’t know why I expect him to say more. Hart doesn’t speak. He’s an anti-social grouch. And now my partner.

I’ve been so worried about having to share things about myself I haven’t even thought about how I’m going to get Hart to open up and talk to me.

“What is your schedule like? I have another class in...,” I check the time on my phone, “.... thirty minutes. Do you have practice or workouts or whatever? What do you do in the off-season?”

“Yes,” he says. I hold back a sigh. This is never going to work.

“Do you plan on actually talking to me? Or will I be writing a paper based on yes or no answers? I want you to talk to me. I need you to talk to me.“ Hart stares at the remnants of his sandwich.

“I like it when you talk to me.” I can’t believe I just admitted that. I hold his stare while he judges my sincerity. I hope he can see the truth there. “I mean it.” I hide my embarrassment by digging into my brownie. I offer him half. The smaller half. I’m nice, but not that nice.

“I know.” Hart looks down at his half of the brownie. After a short internal battle, he stuffs the entire thing in his mouth.

“I will. Talk. It’s just...” Hart trails off, looking around the room at all the people.

“I get it.” I nod, ending that conversation. I understand. I think. And if I don’t, I hope one day he’ll explain it to me. “I work every day. Tuesday and Thursday are usually late. Um... how about…” I run my schedule through my head.

“Tonight. Seven o’clock.”

“I can do that. The library?” He nods in confirmation. “Great. I should get going. I don’t want to be late for Anderson’s copy-editing class.” We stand and gather our trash. I keep an iron grip on my second brownie. I’m excited to eat that later. It makes me giddy thinking about it.

“Me too,” Hart says with a sly grin. He’s in that class too? How did I miss him last week? He was probably hidden by the hoard of beautiful women that is always surrounding him.

“Great. You can sit with me if you want. You don’t have to. But if you do, don’t think you are getting any more bites of my brownie. That was a one-time thing.” He stops me at the door.

“Lauren,” he says, staring down at me. His voice is deep and rich. “I’m not hungry for brownies.” I blink. My cheeks flush. I blink again. He didn’t... He doesn’t mean... “Vamos. We’re late.”

Right. Class. There is no way I’m going to be able to sit beside Hart for the next forty-five minutes and not think about what he is actually hungry for. Because he can’t mean me. Right?

6

HART

Coach was relentless at practice. It’s typical of him. He runs us hard in the off-season to build up our endurance, stamina and to get us acclimated to the heat. He gets off on breaking us down and building us back up.

Coach almost managed to break me during my freshman year. I felt like he was singling me out. Coach Lawson rode me so hard I wanted to walk away. The endless hours of torture didn’t seem worth it. My dad is the one who encouraged me to keep going.

He noticed I was getting better. I didn’t believe him at first, but he was right. My instincts were sharper. My throws were more accurate. I was stronger at the plate.

There’s talk that I could be one of the top draft picks this year. Coach helped get me here. I’ll do whatever he asks without complaining.

It helps that I’m also a little distracted at the moment. I spent most of the practice thinking about my upcoming study session with Lauren instead of the pain my body was enduring.

I’ve gone years without noticing Lauren. I’d see her when she was with Syd, but I never thought about her then.

The gorgeous brunette with soul piercing eyes?

That girl has all my attention.

Suddenly after spending time in her atmosphere a week ago, Lauren is everywhere I look. She’s in my classes, sitting in the quad when I go to practice, in the campus cafeteria when I grab my spicy breakfast burrito. I can’t get away from her, and now she’s my writing partner.

I need things to go back to the way they were before I got put under the spell of Lauren Hickman. I don’t appreciate this new obsession I have. She is monopolizing too much space in my head.

Maybe writing a story about her will satisfy my curiosity. I can get her to answer all my outstanding questions and then move on. I manage to ignore attractive girls on campus every day. I can do this. But those girls aren’t Lauren.

The library is busy for the second week of classes. I had no idea this many people come here to study. How do they get anything done with so many people around? Maybe it’s just me that finds it too distracting to study with so many people watching me.

I can count on one hand how many times I’ve come to the library over the years, preferring the quiet and privacy of my bedroom. I would have suggested meeting Lauren at my place if there was a chance she would agree to it.

On second thought, having Lauren in my room would be a bad idea. The last thing I need is my room to smell like her.

I pull out my phone and fire off a text letting Lauren know I’m on the second floor. I’m hoping it will be quieter up here since it’s away from the help desk and student center.

I claim an empty table in the back corner. I don’t particularly like the idea of private time with Lauren in dark corners of the library, but it has to be this way if I’m expected to talk to her.

I busy myself on my phone while I wait for her. I’m a few minutes early since I came straight from practice.

I’m in the middle of updating my fantasy football team when a bag drops on the table beside me.

I assume it’s Lauren. When the cloying smell of this person’s floral perfume assaults my senses, I know I’m wrong.

“Hey, handsome,” she greets me. The girl makes herself comfortable in the chair next to me. “Whatcha doing all the way back here? I kind of like it.” She leans in close. “No one can see what we’re up to.” The girl places a hand on my arm, and my spine stiffens.

I snatch my arm out from under hers and move my chair away from her. This girl isn’t bad to look at, but I know her type. She’s more attracted to the Knights baseball logo on my hat than she is to me.

I should give her Wyatt’s number and send her on her way. He lives for this kind of hook-up. He enjoys being with the girl who wants to brag about having sex with a Newhouse Knight. For whatever reason, Wyatt doesn’t want the attachment. He doesn’t do feelings. ‘Love ’em and leave ‘em’ as he says.

That isn’t me. Not that I want a relationship. I don’t do relationships either but for an entirely different reason. If I did, I would pick someone who has more depth than a rain puddle.

I need to get rid of her, but she hasn’t stopped talking since she sat down. She is going on about a Kappa party this weekend. She obviously hasn’t done her research on me if she thought I would ever attend that.

I should tell her to leave. Unfortunately. I don’t trust my voice. Years of speech therapy didn’t undo the trauma of being bullied as a child. I don’t think it would bother me now to be teased, but I’m not willing to find out.

I’ve got to do something. I don’t want Lauren to get the wrong idea, or maybe I should let her think I’m talking to this girl. It might help me cut ties with this hold she seems to have on me.

I’m about to say something when another bag drops on the table. The girl beside me scooches her chair closer to me as Lauren takes a seat across from us.

“Can we help you?” The blonde beside me asks. I tense. Lauren flicks her gaze from me to her. Her eyebrow starts twitching. What’s going on in your head, brujita?

“You should probably leave. We are in the middle of something, and you are interrupting,“ she says to Lauren while attempting to touch me again. Lauren’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Vamos,” I bark louder than I should in a library. I’ve had enough. I stand from my chair and throw my bag over my shoulder. “Let’s go.” The girl stands with me.

“Good idea,” she sneers at Lauren.

Lauren’s jaw drops open. She snaps it shut when her shock bleeds over to anger. She’s under the impression I’m leaving with blondie. Like that would ever happen.

I carefully maneuver myself around the girl to stand in front of Lauren. I grab her bag and then hold my hand out to her. “Ven conmigo, brujita.“ Lauren’s eyebrow twitches again, then she takes my hand. I fight the urge to thread our fingers together as I lead her up a flight of stairs to the third level of the library.

It’s darker up here. There are several tables in the middle of the room with fancy banker lamps on each of them. I drag Lauren past the tables and rows of bookshelves.

I have no idea where I’m going. We could have easily sat at one of the tables we just passed, but damn it, I like the way Lauren’s hand feels in mine. I know once we are settled, she isn’t going to let me touch her like this again.

There are four large tables on this side of the floor as well. I guide us to the table in the very back and pull out a seat for Lauren to sit down. It comes across as chivalrous, but really, it’s me controlling where she sits. After being accosted by blondie, I want Lauren beside me. I need her beside me.

Lauren is quiet. I place her backpack in front of her as I take my seat in the chair closest to her. Discreetly I inhale Lauren’s coconut and citrus scent. Instantly I feel more relaxed and less irritated over the whole situation.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Lauren mumbles. “I didn’t think.” She shakes her head and lets out a breath to collect her thoughts. “I didn’t know you were meeting up with someone before me. When you texted that you were early, I decided to just come on over. Again, I’m really sorry.”

Lauren is apologizing because some clinger was sitting next to me. That sends a bout of rage coursing through my system. Lauren saved me from her if she did anything.

“Don’t,” I clip. Lauren flinches at my tone. “Don’t apologize,” I say softer this time.

“Okay, sorry.”

“Brujita,“ I growl.

“Right.” She winces. “Should we get started? We’re wasting time.” Lauren opens her bag to get her notebook and pen. “So, how do you want to do this?” Lauren flips open her notebook. I do the same. “I was thinking we could create a questionnaire for each other to answer on our own. As long as it’s completed with plenty of time to write up the story and ask any follow-up questions. I think-”

“No.” Her head jerks in my direction.

“No?” She questions.

“No.” I know what she’s thinking, but I won’t skimp on this assignment. I can figure out how to talk to Lauren without having an anxiety attack. I managed to say a few words to her before. I can make this work without resorting to a questionnaire.

“What’s that?” I tap her notes with my pencil. Forcing her to shelf the discussion for now.

“Oh, it’s, uh, just some ideas I had.” I hold out my hand, silently asking her to let me read what she wrote down. Lauren sighs. Then slides the notebook in my direction. “Obviously, finding a scandal with the athletic department is out.” Why was it ever in?

“You’re friends with athletes.”

“I’m friends with Nash. One athlete.” I hold back a scoff. One should be enough to not look for trouble. “And if it’s a good story….” Lauren raises her shoulder, brushing off the fact that she is willing to sell me and my friends up the river for what? A good grade?

“Right.” I aggressively cross that idea off the list. “Explain,” I demand, tapping my pencil on the word library. Lauren’s cheeks turn pink, and she drags a hand down her ponytail.

“Why did I write that down? This is so embarrassing,” Lauren mumbles to herself while her eyes focus on her lap.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in the library over the years. Sydney and I had a really small dorm room. I felt claustrophobic. Anyway, I noticed that people don’t actually come to the library to study.” I bob my head and encourage her to continue. I’m still waiting to hear her pitch.

“Sure, they come and check out books, but they also check out each other. I’ve seen students on multiple occasions sneak off with each other to do God knows what. Do you know how many dark, secluded places there are here?” I shake my head.

“I think we should expose the library. We can write a story about what really happens in the alcoves and dark corners of this place.”

I study Lauren for a moment as she chews her bottom lip. “If you had something else in mind. I’m all ears.” I don’t have anything. I haven’t thought past the fact that I’m being forced to spend more time with Lauren.

“Fine. The library.”

“Great. Perfect. I can put together an outline. Then we can meet up a few nights a week to investigate. According to the syllabus,” Lauren pulls out the packet we received last week from Morelli's TA, “We have six weeks to pull this off.”

Six weeks isn’t a lot of time to do all the research and write something worth a decent grade. On the other end of the spectrum, it’s too much time with Lauren.

“And the other assignment?” Lauren questions. “I don’t want to be difficult or anything, but there are a lot of things I don’t talk about. Especially with strangers.” She looks at me behind a frame of dark lashes.

“I’m a stranger?” Why do I find this insulting? Even though she isn’t far off base. Lauren doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her, but I’m not a stranger.

“Nothing personal. I don’t talk about myself like that.” Lauren just became a lot more interesting. What is she trying to keep secret?

“Too bad.” I’m being an asshole. I don’t care. “I’m not going to get a bad grade because you don’t want to talk to me. Weren’t you complaining about me not talking to you at lunch? You’re being a little hypocritical.”

“Yes, but this is different.” Lauren clutches onto the pen in her hand so hard her knuckles go white.

“How?”

“It just is, Hart.”

“I have my reasons for my silence, and you have yours. I don’t see how one reason is better than the other.” Lauren closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Fine. I don’t want a bad grade, either. If you don’t want to do a questionnaire, then you will have to talk to me too.”

I lean in closer to Lauren. Two more inches, and I could run my nose up the slender column of her neck. Something that seems more appealing by the second. “You want me to talk brujita? Make me talk.”

“About what?” Lauren asks.

“Anything.”

“That is a dangerous word.” I raise an eyebrow as if to say, ‘try me‘. “Why did you come to Newhouse?” She asks tentatively.

“Scholarship.”

“You only got one offer?”

“No.”

“Then why Newhouse?”

“I grew up around here. My familia is still here. I didn’t want to go far away. What about you?“ I figure it’s safe to throw the question back at her.

“Scholarship.” She smirks, copying my answer.

“You didn’t get an offer for a school in Seattle?” Lauren tenses at the mention of Seattle. She had a similar reaction when Enzo brought up the city. She left for a reason. I want to find out why.

“How did your parents feel about you going to school across the country?”

“They didn’t care,” she answers quickly. Too quickly. “What’s your major?” She asks before I can dig deeper into her parents.

“Journalism. You?” Lauren turns toward me in her chair. Her short legs nestle in between mine. Even without touching, the position is cozy.

“English with a minor in journalism.”

“Why?”

“Um, well, English was a scholarship requirement. I earned the scholarship based on a short story I wrote. Fiction was always better than reality. Writing was an escape. My mom.” Lauren looks to the sky and clears her throat. “She, uh, told the best stories. I wanted to be like her.”

“And journalism?”

“It didn’t take me long to figure out that even reality had its share of fiction. I want to be someone who writes the truth. I want to use my voice for good. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why journalism?”

“Oh, my dad. He owns the local paper in my hometown. It’s the family business and my backup plan.” Her eyebrows scrunch together.

“Backup to what?”

“Baseball. I’m going to the show.”

“The show?” Her ignorance is as adorable as it is refreshing.

“The majors. Professional baseball.”

“Ahh. I didn’t know that was a possibility.”

“It’s not a possibility. It’s a guarantee.” Lauren doesn’t look impressed. If I told any girl on campus, except for Syd, I would have gotten some kind of reaction. I wish she was impressed. Being good at baseball is the only thing I have going for me.

“Do you have a preference where you end up playing?”

“I don’t care.” I just want to play baseball. It doesn’t matter where I go. My mom would like me to stay in Alabama if it’s an option, but she knows this is my dream and will support me wherever I end up.

“What position do you play?”

“Shortstop.” Lauren nods her head like she knows what I’m talking about.

“Cool.”

“You have no idea what that is, do you?” I ask with a smile. Words that I usually find difficult to form effortlessly leave my mouth.

Maybe it’s because she is holding her cards close to her chest. It allows me the space to pick and choose what I want to share with her as well. Lauren can’t judge me for staying quiet if she is doing the same.

“No. I don’t. Baseball is the game with the nets, right?”

“Funny. Don’t worry, I will teach you.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to do that. Sports aren’t really my thing.” We’ll see about that.

All I can think about while we work out a plan for our project is getting her to the stadium to watch a practice and, in the spring, a game.

You won’t be spending time with Lauren in the spring. You won’t be seeing Lauren at all once you turn in your paper.

Why does the thought of not being around her next semester give me more anxiety than speaking in a room full of thousands of people?

7

LAUREN

“I swear Dr. Nichols has it out for me,” Syd says from her seat at our dining room table.

Calling it a dining room is a stretch. It’s an empty corner off our kitchen with a small table that fits four people comfortably. If we had more than two chairs and didn’t fill half of it with clutter. We should really clean up.

“Why do you say that?” I ask as I check the casserole I have in the oven. It just needs a few more minutes until it’s melted cheese perfection.

“Let me see. Where do I begin? He is making me read the entire textbook before the end of the week. He wants me to write a twenty-page research paper by next Friday. Don’t even get me started on the labs.” And this is why I’m not a chemistry major.

“You’re the only one who has to do this?"

“Well, no. It’s the whole class.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Lo, I’m being robbed. I’m being robbed of my time. My social life. My freedom.”

“You are also being a teeny bit dramatic. This is our last year. It’s not going to be easy. But hey, we’ll get through it together,“ I reassure her as I remove the taco casserole from the oven. “Let’s eat.”

“I am not the drama, Lauren.” Right. “I think I’m just freaking out. All the pressure is starting to get to me. After this year, we’re on our own.” Sydney piles two large scoops of food onto her plate.

“I get it. I’m trying not to think about internships right now, even though it is a major concern. Just take everything one day at a time.”

“I guess,” she says solemnly. “You should ask Hart about an internship. He could totally hook you up.”

“I’m not looking for a handout.”

“Lo, it wouldn’t be. He would just get your resume to the top of the stack.”

“I’ll think about it.” I pretend to savor a bite of my food. I don’t want Syd to see through my lies. I barely made it through the first meeting with Hart. I have no idea how I’m going to make it to the end of this assignment.

Hart had a one-word answer for everything. He acted like being at the library with me was the last place he wanted to be.

I swear he was mad at me the entire time we were in the library. Maybe he needs time to get comfortable. He did start to talk some toward the end.

My biggest problem is when he leaned in close. Make me talk brujita. The cadence of his voice and his delicious sandalwood scent took over my senses. Again. I couldn’t breathe. It was overwhelming and all-consuming.

“You’re flushed. What are you thinking about over there?”

“Nothing. The food is spicy.”

“It’s not that bad.” Thankfully she buys my story. I’m not ready to share the affect Hart has on my body.

“Oh! Are you going to be around this weekend? I was wondering if you had time to braid my hair. I want to do something like this.” Syd holds up her phone and shows me a picture of gorgeous box braids that would match her natural dark brown hair at the root and gradually flow into an ombre purple.

“Um…”

“I already have all the stuff.”

“I might be able to on Sunday or next weekend. I was going to go talk to Ray on Saturday and see if I can start working there.” Sydney won’t judge me, but I wait for it anyway. Everyone else has.

“You’re really going to work there?”

“Rumor has it the girls are making a couple hundred dollars a night. It will be worth it. I need to save up money for when I’m interning.”

Syd’s fork clanks on her plate. Her eyes go wide as saucers. She quickly chews and swallows down the food in her mouth so she can talk.

“Are you serious? That is a lot of money. I should get a job with you. We could work there together. How much fun would that be?”

“Do you know how to bartend?”

“No, but I can figure it out. If I can mix chemicals in a lab, I can do it in a bar. I could use the money too. It’s smart to save up. And I will feel better about you being at that bar if I’m there with you.”

“Nash will lose his mind.”

“Nash ain’t my daddy.”

“What about Koa?” Syd’s cheeks blush. Oh, she definitely wants Koa to be her daddy.

“What about Hart?” I scoff.

“What about him?” Why would she even ask about Hart?

“I’m not blind, Lo. I see the way y’all look at each other. Hart doesn’t flirt with anyone, and he was flirtin’ with you.” She stabs her fork in my direction.

“He does not flirt with me. He’s barely spoken to me in the three years I’ve known him. And even now that he has to talk to me, he doesn’t say much.”

“Yeah, well, Hart doesn’t speak to anyone except for Koa, Wyatt, and Nash. Sometimes me. He’s a good guy Lauren. Don’t let his stoney exterior deceive you. He’s had those walls built for a long time.”

“Hart and I are just partners for an assignment.” He showed up in another one of my classes today, followed by his harem. I don’t know how I didn’t notice him last week. You’ve been groomed to keep your head down and not pay attention to what other people are doing. That’s how.

“Partners, huh? That should be interesting. What do you have to do?”

“We have to write one story together and then another one about each other.” Syd laughs hysterically. “Something funny?”

“Nope,” she says as she sobers. There is still a hint of a smile on her face. “I think it will be interesting to see what information you two weasel out of each other. You’re both so private.” She’s not wrong.

“Yeah, well, I guess that is the point of the assignment. To learn how to get the answers you need when we’re doing this for real. I’ll give him enough to write his paper.” The bare minimum. That’s all Hart needs. I already gave him more than I wanted to yesterday.

“Do you see this leading anywhere?”

"What do you mean by this?" Syd rolls her eyes.

"You and Hart hanging out. Do you see it evolving? You know, like into a relationship?" I make some weird noise as I choke on a piece of rice.

“I don’t even want to know how your brain jumped to that conclusion. Hart doesn’t strike me as the relationship type, and I’m not here for that.”

“You might be right. He never had a girlfriend in high school, and I haven’t seen him with anyone serious or casual at Newhouse.”

“Exactly. I’m not fool enough to think I could change his ways.” Syd attempts to butt in. “Not that I would want to try anyway. You have that look in your eye, Syd. Don’t get involved, okay? At least wait until we’ve turned in our assignments. I won’t be able to look him in the eye if you lie to him and tell him I find him attractive.”

“Are you sure I would be the one lying? Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t find James Hart attractive. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

A flash of Hart sitting casually in the chair at the library fills my mind. His long legs stretched out on either side of mine. A backward hat taming his head of curly black hair. Tattoos decorating his forearms and biceps with no rhyme or reason.

“He’s not terrible to look at, I guess.”

“You are full of so much shit you could clog every toilet in the building. He’s not terrible to look at my ass.”

On that note. “I’ve got to get ready for work.” I pick up my plate and take it to the sink.

“I’ll put everything away and do the dishes since you cooked,” Syd offers.

“Thanks. Are you serious about Ray’s? It would be fun having you there with me.”

“Hell yeah, I’m serious. Let’s do it!”

“Your enthusiasm is scaring me. Are you sure you have time to work? You were just complaining about all the assignments for your classes.”

“I’m kind of scaring myself. I’ll be fine. It will be a nice change of scene from lecture halls and labs. And I’ll be with you. I always have fun with you.”

“Damn, straight you do.” I slap her butt with a kitchen towel. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be late tonight.”

Syd waves me off, and I head to my room to grab my phone and keys. I have a few missed texts from Hart.

HART

What is your favorite movie?

And TV show?

ME

Why?

HART

Don’t tell me your choice of cinematic entertainment is also off-limits.

I’m surprised he texted me back so fast. Was he waiting for me to write him back?

ME

No. It’s fine. I don’t have one.

HART

I’m not sure that qualifies as an answer. It’ll pass for now.

TV?

ME

Any kind of murder documentary.

HART

Seriously?

ME

Yes, they’re interesting. Maybe it’s the journalist in me.

HART

Makes sense.

ME

What about you?

HART

I like any movie with action. Car chases, explosions, shootouts, martial arts.

ME

I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.

HART

The only TV I watch is sports and the occasional rerun of   The Office.

ME

I think I’ve seen a meme for that show. It looks funny.

HART

You’ve never watched it?

ME

No.

HART

You grew up watching murder mysteries?

ME

No. I didn’t have a tv or internet.

HART

Seriously?

ME

Yes.

HART

How is that possible?

ME

I don’t know. I have to go to work.

Crap! I did it again. I told Hart more than I wanted to. How does he do that? Hart asks a question, and I answer without thinking of the consequences. I bet he has a million more questions now. I just raised a red flag. I mean, who grew up without the internet? He probably thinks I grew up sheltered or in a cult or something.

It’s not like we didn’t have internet or television in the house. I didn’t own a cellphone or a computer of my own. I didn’t have any need for it.

I throw my phone in my dance bag and grab the rest of my stuff. I don’t have time to worry about Hart and our assignment at the moment. Right now, I have to focus on convincing six teenagers to give themselves a shot at a real future.

Maybe dealing with Hart would be easier.

When I arrive at the rec center, their music is leaking through the slither of space under the door. I recognize the song. It’s the same trendy song we were messing around with on Sunday. The kids wanted to make a new dance video to post online. I don’t particularly like them posting videos on the internet, but I do like seeing them work together and solving problems.

I turn the handle on the door. The music quiets before the door closes behind me. “Don’t stop on my account. Keep warming up. We’ve got lots of work to do, and I need you ready.”

The rec center isn’t much, but it’s ours. The kids come here to play basketball or hang out in the common room. It’s a place to get away from their reality.

I scan the small room we occupy twice a week and do a quick roll call in my head. Los, Rocky, Vivi, Trix, Cash. “Where’s Michie?”

“Right here,” Michie says from behind me. “I was in the bathroom.” I smile and nod at her.

“How is everyone?” A chorus of ‘goods’ and ‘fines’ flow through the group. They are lying. I know they are tired. Tired of being hungry. Tired of feeling like a burden. Tired of struggling every day.

“Did Carter talk to you about Westfield Prep?”

“I’m not going to no snob school,” Cash announces. He’s sixteen and works part-time at the garage by Royal Oaks trailer park. He claims he only runs car parts, but I’m not convinced that’s all he delivers around town.

“Me either. Blazers and ties are against my religion,” Rocky says with a hand on her hip.

“I don’t care. This is a great opportunity for you. Do you know what this scholarship-”

“You mean handout.”

“Will do for your future? This school is connected to colleges all over the country. It’s a ticket out. It’s a way to help your family,” I continue as if Trix didn’t interrupt me. I get it. I told Sydney the same thing. No one wants to feel like charity.

“What’s going to happen to my brother when I’m at this fancy prep school? I can’t leave him behind,” Carlos says. His little brother Manny is only eight. Los takes care of him, considering his parents are drunks and drug addicts.

“You know Carter and I won’t let anything happen to Manny.” My mind is racing with what I can say to convince them to take a chance on themselves. If I were them, I would probably feel the same way.

I was like them at one point in my life. I wouldn’t want help from some pretentious, uptight assholes, either. I wanted to earn everything I got. That’s why I worked so hard in school. I wanted my grades and work ethic to prove I deserved a college education. That I deserved to be here.

“I get it. You don’t want to be handed a free ride. And you wouldn’t be. You will have to work hard to earn these spots. They only give out five scholarships to rising seniors and five to rising juniors. If I get my way, all of you will claim one.”

“It would be fun to steal a spot from one of those rich pricks,” Trix says with a devilish grin.

I don’t want to encourage an “us versus them” mentality, but if that’s what it takes for them to say yes. Then so be it.

“What do we have to do?” Michie asks meekly. She is one of the quieter girls in the group. She stays out of trouble and does what she’s told. Michie reminds me of myself when I was her age.

If you are the perfect kid, they won’t send you away. They won’t even remember you’re there. You can float through the system like a ghost. Some days I feel like I’m still floating through life unseen.

“You’ll have to audition. You perform in front of a panel of judges. They’ll decide who’s the best and earns the scholarship. You can dance in four different categories. I thought you could do a solo, a duet, a group routine, and then a second group routine with just the girls and the guys.”

“I’m not doing no ballet or tap shit,” Vivi sneers.

“Obviously,” I sass right back. Sometimes I think they forget who they are dealing with when they talk to me. I can give it right back to them. I’m only five or six years older than them. I’m the big sister they never wanted, and they’re the family I’ve always craved.

I mess around with my phone looking for a song on my playlist. “Remember that routine we were working on over the summer?” I get a few nods of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, it was dope,” Trix brags. It is pretty dope. That’s a good thing, right?

“But Lo, that was like, all street moves. The Vanderwhores aren’t going to let us in with that.”

“It’s Vanderhalls, Vivi, not whore,” Carlos corrects her.

“Of course, you would defend her,” Vivi snaps back, getting in Carlos’ face.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not blind.” Not sure what that is about, but we don’t have time for it.

“That’s enough. Focus. I know our style isn’t exactly Westfield material. I refuse to let you sell out completely.” That statement changes the aura of the room.

“What do you have in mind?” Rocky asks.

“Well, I thought we could do a little bit of us and a little bit of them. Mix our hip hop with their contemporary and ballet. I want to take our hard edges and weave in smoother transitions. I want to bring something so unique to the table they can’t say no.”

I’m fired up. I can feel the emotions starting to swell inside of me. I expect a few hell yeahs, or let’s do this. At this point, I would take a high five instead of the dead faces I’m looking at.

“Yeah, I don’t know, Lo. I can’t do spins and jumps and shit. Can you even do that stuff?” I level Trix with a look. Can I do that stuff? I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.

“I can do anything.” I straighten my back as I throw the challenge out there. Trix raises an eyebrow and purses his lip. That is a sign of challenge accepted if I ever saw one.

“Watch this,” I say as I pass my phone to Carlos and get into position. “I’m going take the moves we’ve been practicing, slow them down, and add a few new transitions. Cue the music, Los.” I roll my neck and shoulders and give my arms a good shake.

Like always, the music starts up, and it’s game over. I don’t even think. I move. I fly. I glide. I tune out the cheers and curses from my audience. I’m lost in the music.

This is my sanctuary. This is my church. This is my therapy. This is where I’m free to be myself. This is the place where all my emotions come out. My anger, my fear, my sadness, my love. No one can touch me when I’m dancing.

Halfway through, the music stops abruptly. What the hell? I look at Carlos as I try to catch my breath.

“We’re in. If that’s what we’re doing. We’re in.” Inside I’m screaming and jumping. They might not like the people who go to that school. They may never fit in. But for two years, they can suck it up. Westfield Prep will get them away from the trailer park and give them a future.

“Let’s get to work.”

8

HART

I woke up this morning with a plan. I was going to wait for Lauren outside Morelli’s door. Sit by her during class. Attempt to lure her with my charm. What little charm I have. If it all goes well, eat lunch with her again at The Round Table after class.

I should have remembered who I’m dealing with. Lauren isn’t just anyone. She managed to give me the slip when a mob of latecomers stormed into the room.

Morelli entered right behind them. Leaving me no choice but to take the first available seat in the lecture hall.

I kept my eyes on her throughout the lecture. If Lauren felt me watching her, she didn’t show it.

I thought I could try again for Anderson’s class, but no. This girl is a gold medalist in avoiding me. I’ll let her have it today, but tonight she is mine. We have another meet-up planned at the library.

We’ve met up a few times over the last week. We cased out the library for dark zones, did surveillance, and talked to other students. Lauren did the talking. I sat there in amazement, watching her ask each person all the questions we put together.

I enjoyed that task more than I should have. Lauren squirmed in her seat every time she had to ask one of my questions I put on the survey. She wrote down everyone’s answers with the cutest blush on her face.

It made me wonder what her answers would be. How do you feel about PDA? Have you ever kissed anyone in public? Would you make out with a stranger you just met at the library? How far would you let him or her take it?

That last question felt sour on my tongue. Thinking about another guy touching Lauren like that. It didn’t sit right with me. I feel protective of her for some reason. Probably because I was the one who dealt with Matt. And I did that for Sydney, not Lauren. Keep telling yourself that.

As soon as I pull into my parent’s driveway, I send a text to Lauren making sure she is still good to meet at the library. She probably won’t answer since she’s working right now. The girl is always working.

I haven’t heard much from her except for setting up our meeting times at the library. I haven’t tried to text her anything personal since she shut down after telling me she didn’t have internet.

As much as I wanted to dig deeper, I let it go.

I don’t get it. Any other girl would take advantage of having my number and send flirty texts ad nauseam. Lauren is keeping all our interactions professional and impersonal.

I should be grateful, but I find it irritating at best.

Now is not the time to worry or wonder about why Lauren has gotten under my skin and piqued a curiosity I’ve never had before. If I show any sign of my interest in Lauren, romantic or otherwise, my mom will sniff it out like a dog on a hunt.

I pocket my phone as I climb out of my car. I visit my parents every Wednesday to eat dinner with them. At least until I start having games during the week. It’s only a thirty-minute drive from campus, and it makes my mom happy. Yes, I am a mama’s boy. She didn’t give me a choice.

“Mamá,“ I call out to her as I close the front door behind me. "Hola, Mamá," I say as I enter the kitchen and kiss her on the back of her head. “Something smells good.” I lean over the pot simmering on the stovetop. It looks a lot like the rice Lauren made a few weeks ago.

I can’t even eat anymore without thinking about her.

“Ah, come here, mi gordito. Let me get a look at you.“ I let her pat my face, squeeze my arms, and inspect me for any injuries or hints of malnutrition. “You look good, mijo.”

"Sí. I can take care of myself now, Mamá." She waves a hand as if that couldn’t possibly be true. I grab a water bottle from the fridge. Then take a seat at the breakfast table.

“How are classes going? Are you keeping up with your studies?”

"Sí, Mamá. It’s only been a few weeks. Practice is light." It isn’t at all. My muscles hurt. I’m tired all the time, but I don’t want her to worry. “I’ve got everything under control.” My mom continues to chop peppers, onions, and tomatoes while she muses over my life.

If I know anything, it’s that Sylvie Hart likes to meddle. I’m an only child and the center of her entire world. Every choice she has ever made has been with me in mind. She would never admit it, but I know it’s true. She would choose my happiness over hers every time. I’m glad she’s never had to.

“Any new friends?” Most would assume this is her slick way of asking if I am dating anyone. Not my mom. She genuinely wants to know if I’ve made new friends. She wants to see if I’m talking again. If I’m putting my past aside and meeting new people without feeling insecure.

"I have plenty of friends, Mamá." She sighs and stirs the simmering rice aggressively.

“Ah, mijo. You can never have too many friends. It wouldn’t kill you to smile now and then. You will never find a nice girl if you have that face all the time.”

“What’s wrong with my face? I thought I was handsome.”

“Nothing mijo. You are handsome but look angry. A nice girl wants a man who smiles at her.”

“I’m not angry.” At least, I didn’t think so. “I do smile.” Just not in public and around people I don’t know. Lauren makes me smile.

A knife clatters on the countertop, returning my attention to the present. “That expression. I know it. You met someone. Who is she?”

I’m about to tell her no one when the door to the garage clicks open. My dad drops his keys and thermos on the counter and then rushes to greet my mother.

He embraces her as if he’s been away at war. It’s disgusting. They’ve been together for almost twenty years, and they act like each kiss is their first. I want that someday.

I clear my throat. Dad gives me a look before he kisses my mom again. “Really?” I groan.

“Yes, really. Now stop ruining my vibe,” my dad says and straightens the glasses on his face.

“Don’t say that again.” I cringe. My dad is not cool enough to use the word vibe.

“Okay. How about…stop cockblocking me? Is that better?” I gag. Mom slaps his arm.

“Don’t say the word cock, Stephen,” she attempts to whisper. She must have forgotten that she doesn’t know how to talk quietly. My mother is a loud and colorful woman. She doesn’t have a shy or quiet bone in her body.

“Can you both stop saying that word and pass me some bleach for my brain? I need to erase the last thirty seconds of my life.”

My dad tucks my mom’s hair behind her ears and says something that makes her blush. Thank God he knows how to whisper. I don’t want to know what he said to make her look like that.

“Want a beer?” My dad asks from the open door of the fridge. I shake him off even though it’s tempting. “How’s school?” He asks, taking the seat across from me.

“Fine,” I answer quickly. He raises an eyebrow.

“He met someone. A girl,” my mother adds from the kitchen island.

“Is that so? Someone from school, I gather. Do we know her?” My dad inquires. I’m trying to think back over the last three years. Do they know Lauren? Have they met her or seen her by chance? It isn’t like I haven’t been around Lauren here and there over the years.

“I don’t think so,” I finally answer. My mom brings the salad over and places it in the middle of the table. I get up to help her with the rice and enchiladas she’s made. Damn, they smell good.

“So, there is someone?” My dad digs. Fuck. I hate it when he does this. He’s too good at his job.

“There is an assignment, and she is my partner. That’s all.” He busies himself, making a plate for my mom. He always serves her first. If there is one thing I’ve learned from Dad, it’s how to treat a woman. My mom is his queen.

“What’s the assignment?” He asks while I wait patiently for my chance to pile food onto my plate.

“It’s for Morelli.” He ‘ahs’ in understanding and then passes me the spatula. Finally. I’m starving. I should have had a power bar or something on the way over here.

“Tell me more about the girl, mijo.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Stop lying and tell me about her. She is not just anyone.” I stuff a big bite of enchiladas into my mouth to buy myself some time.

“Lauren. Her name is Lauren,” I say, looking down at my plate. “She is Sydney’s roommate.”

“So, you know each other well already? She is Sydney’s friend?” Sometimes I really wish they had more kids so I wouldn’t be the only one subjected to their interrogations.

“Her best friend. And not really. I’ve seen her around but don’t know much about her.”

“That’s the assignment, though. I remember Alessandro telling me about it the last time we had dinner together. You have to interrogate each other and write up a story with your findings,” he says between bites of cilantro rice. I nod and shovel another fork full of food into my mouth.

“This is really good, Mamá.”

“Gracias. Now, tell me more.“ I glare at her. Give it a rest. “What? This is the first time you’ve come home and mentioned anyone other than Wyatt and Koa. Forgive me. I’m intrigued.”

“There isn’t much to say. I’m not lying. We’ve only met up a few times to discuss the assignment. I’m meeting her tonight when I get back to campus.”

“You don’t have any issues speaking with her?”

“No.” My parents eye each other momentarily. My mom smirks. Pats the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

“Say it,” I demand. I know she has something rolling around that brain of hers.

“I’m just happy you are speaking to new people.”

“I’m not mute.” It’s a lousy defense. I might as well be, and she knows it. The fact that words rarely leave my mouth has been a point of contention between my parents and my teachers for years. It was noted on every report card and came up at every parent/teacher conference.

“I know, mijo. Lauren is easy to talk to?”

“Sí,“ I answer effortlessly. I don’t feel the constant fear or struggle when I’m around Lauren. Something about her puts me at ease. It’s like she was always meant to be near me and a part of my life.

“Maybe spending time with Lauren and talking openly will help you with the media situation.” I groan. “Has Lawson brought up media training?” Dad asks.

“Not yet. He’s too busy trying to weed out weak players on the team. I’m sure he will bring it up again.” I’ve been reprimanded every season for my brusqueness with reporters. Ironic, considering my family background.

“He’s good at that.” My dad chuckles. Probably remembering my freshman year. “Have you heard from Lorenzo or Marco?” The Morelli brothers are as much a staple in my dad’s life as they are in mine.

Dad lugged the three of us all over Alabama for baseball games when their dad was too busy working. My dad was also the one who taught them how to hit a ball when it isn’t sitting on a tee.

“We hung out before classes started and have been texting here and there. Marco has fallen in love at least a dozen times already.” They both laugh.

“I’m sure they are busy with classes and practice too. And girls,” he adds with a playful roll of his eyes. “It’s too bad they chose ASU over Newhouse.” I nod in agreement. I mean, I get it. I wouldn’t want to go to school where my dad worked, either. I’m already toeing the line by taking one of Morelli’s classes.

He wasn’t a huge part of my life since he traveled so much for work, but he is an “uncle” by friendship. He is my familia without the blood ties.

Mom stands to start clearing the table. “You should bring Lauren to dinner next week,” she throws the invite out casually. Dad smiles. I sigh. You can’t tell mom no. I mean, you can. But she will bulldoze over you and eliminate any excuses to turn that no into a yes.

“I will ask. She works on Wednesday nights.”

“Where? What does she do?” I take my plate over to the sink and gently push my mom out of the way to take over for her.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask her tonight.” Mom smiles and nods her head. “Don’t be upset if she doesn’t want to come to dinner. She isn’t…,” How do I say this, “social.” That is the best way to put Lauren’s lack of participation in college life.

I don’t know why she chooses to keep to herself so much. Besides her friendship with Sydney, I don’t see her talk to anyone on campus. Sydney has mentioned a few girls in their dorm that she hangs out with, but I don’t know if Lauren hangs with them too.

“She is shy like you?”

“I’m not shy.” Neither is Lauren, for that matter. You don’t compete at The Warehouse and fall under the same umbrella as being shy. “I don’t want you to be disappointed. Don’t start planning anything until I talk to her.”

“Maybe we should wait a few weeks. Give them both time to get to know each other first, Sylvie,” My dad suggests.

“Fine.” She throws a towel on the counter in frustration and rants about never getting to have fun.

Mom works on putting the food away while I finish the dishes. I’m crossing my fingers she isn’t so upset she forgets to send me home with a container of leftovers.

Dad gives us a rundown of what’s happening with the paper. There is a new junior reporter who has more ideas than complete sentences. He also mentions spring and summer internships available. I make a mental note to tell Lauren about them.

I think part of him wishes I would work with him and take over one day. Dad also understands if baseball is an option, it’s the only option for me.

My phone dings, but I ignore it. It goes off again and then a third time. I pretend I don’t hear anything. My mom, however, is waiting on pins and needles and is near death from curiosity.

I exhale an exaggerated breath and pull my phone from my pocket. She is going to be disappointed when she finds out it’s Wyatt. He is usually the only person who texts me in quick succession.

Wyatt can’t help himself. His brain is constantly firing on all cylinders. The only place I’ve ever seen him find focus is on the hill.

The texts aren’t from Wyatt. They’re from Lauren. I keep a calm demeanor as I click on the notification.

LAUREN

Yes! We have a lot of work to do.

I’m stressed.

So, I’m bringing dessert.

A photo of a plate of cupcakes accompanies Lauren’s third text. The icing lacks the finesse of a professional, but they look edible. Did she bake them? I hold back a grin.

“Well, is it her?”

“Yeah, it’s her. She’s just confirming our study session. Don’t get too excited,” I answer with my eyes on my phone.

ME

Make sure you bring me two.

“I better go, or I’ll be late.” My mom huffs in frustration, and my dad laughs at her.

“That’s all I get? Really, mijo?”

"Dinner was delicious, Mamá." Ignoring her antics, I hug and kiss her goodbye. I swipe the container of enchiladas and rice off the counter on my way to my dad.

“Drive carefully,” he says. “Let us know when you are back on campus.”

Getting in my car, I think about Lauren and how I want to play it tonight. Sure, she’s been giving me the cold shoulder and keeping her distance, but she’s bringing me cupcakes.

Maybe she is as confused as I am by this pull between us. I feel this urgency to be friends with her, maybe more than friends. At the same time, we have a job to do together.

That is the priority.

Morelli lectured us this morning on different interview strategies, how to read people, and knowing when to sit back and wait for the interviewee to tell their story in their own time.

That’s my play with Lauren. The long game. I’ll make sure she is comfortable and get her to open up on her own. She’s slipped up with me before.

I think she’s already comfortable with me, which scares her into silence. The more time we spend together, the closer we become. Lauren doesn’t like people getting too close to her.

Well, brujita, there’s a first time for everything.

9

LAUREN

I didn’t go to bed until the sun was almost up this morning. I had to catch up on reading and finish a few assignments.

It doesn’t help that I was at the center until almost ten o’clock. The kids shouldn’t be out that late at night. I couldn’t make myself leave. They were so dedicated to practicing and getting better. For a fleeting moment, I saw hope in their eyes.

It only flickered for a second, but it was there. Carlos, Trix, Rocky, and the rest of their crew can’t afford to build a life on hopes and dreams. It’s too farfetched from their reality. Having hope is too impractical when you can’t even pay your bills on time.

They need someone to believe in them enough to overcompensate for the times they can’t. That’s me. I will do whatever I can for them. I tried to keep my distance when I first came to Alabama, but it felt selfish.

I had something they needed.

I had something to give.

Growing up, I remember several nights a week mystery casseroles showed up in our kitchen or a pair of hand-me-down shoes were left by our apartment door.

I don’t think of my childhood often, but when I do, I’m reminded how much my community helped raise me.

I clear the emotional fog I’ve put myself in and walk up the stairs to the third floor of the library. It’s a ghost town tonight.

After gathering a few books on the college’s history, I sit at the table on the third floor Hart and I have claimed as ours. I remove the contraband cupcakes from my backpack and place them on the table next to the stack of books.

I’m early. I was worried I would fall asleep and be late if I went to the dorms first. I’m exhausted. I don’t remember the last time I was this tired. Maybe finals last year?

I’ll feel refreshed if I rest my eyes for a moment. I snuggle my lumpy backpack and hunch over the table the best I can. It’s not comfortable, but I’m not trying to fall asleep.

I’m only going to close my eyes until Hart gets here.

I just need…a…minute…

“Brujita,“ a soft deep voice infiltrates my dreaming. The lightest touch strokes my cheekbone. “Lauren, I need you to wake up.” My hair is lifted gently off my face and tucked behind my ear.

I groan and burrow my face deeper into my elbow. “Lauren, cariño, you need to wake up for me.”

“Hart?” I open one eye, grateful there isn’t harsh lighting in the room. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” I peel myself from my backpack. There’s no way I don’t have marks on my face from the zipper and rough canvas fabric. “Did you just get here?” I frown. He’s late. We were supposed to meet over an hour ago.

“No.”

“You let me sleep? You should have woken me up.” I’m horrified and embarrassed. I discreetly check the corner of my mouth for any drool.

“You needed to sleep,” Hart’s tone is sharp. His words feel final. Like he is the authority and knows what’s best for me.

I don’t know how I feel about that. Part of me wants to protest. I want to tell him he doesn’t have a clue what I need.

The rest of me wants to relinquish all the control I’ve been holding onto with iron fists for the last decade. I want to follow his orders and do whatever he says. I want to bury myself deep into his strong arms and let him comfort me.

That, however, is too difficult. It’s much easier to fight with him than show Hart how vulnerable he makes me feel.

"You have no idea what I need. If you did, you would know I need to nail this assignment. And to do that, we need to get this research done. I can’t do that while I’m sleeping," I say.

I take my crappy secondhand laptop out of my backpack. We still have an hour or so until the library closes. I was hoping to be in bed before eleven for once this week, but that isn’t going to happen now.

I open a new Word document once my computer finally sparks to life. While it loads, I reach for the first book on the stack I borrowed for us. That’s when I notice the pile is gone. The books are sporadically placed across the table. Some are open, and others are closed with post-it notes marking the pages.

“Brujita -”

“Stop calling me that,” I snap.

“I can’t do that.” He seems unbothered by my attitude. I spare a second to glance at him. Going by the grin on his face, he’s amused. Damn him. He never smiles. He really should because he’s beautiful when he does.

Under a thin coating of scruff, I notice he has a small scar on his left cheek. It’s more prominent mimicking a dimple when he smiles.

“There is nothing more important to me than this assignment.” History says this isn’t true. The fierceness in his eye, however, tells me he isn’t lying. He wants to do a good job on our assignment too. My question is why?

“Even more than baseball?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

“Yes,” he says with absolution. “I’ve read through all the books you found. You did good. I marked any mention of the library.” Hart grabs one of the books and passes it to me. “Do you want to start typing notes from this one?”

“Sure.” I read the front cover and type the book’s title and author in my document. Then open the book up to the first marked page. We thought it would be good to add a little bit of the history behind the library to our article. Start with the origin story and build from there.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” Hart asks without looking away from his laptop.

“No.” Technically not a lie. Most nights, I pass out when my head hits the pillow. The problem is getting to bed at a decent hour. I can’t remember the last time I went to sleep within the same twenty-four period I woke up.

“Where do you work?” Random.

“Currently, I’m trying to work in the library, but someone keeps asking me questions.” I glare at him. He chuckles. Ugh, I hate his laugh. It’s rich and delicious. It makes me ache to hear it again. “Why do you want to know?”

“My mom asked me at dinner. I told her I would find out,” he says with a shoulder raise. Hart is trying to appear casual. The quick dart of his eyes and pink tint to his ears and neck says he is anything but.

“How often do you go home?”

“Every week until games start up.”

“Are you a momma’s boy?”

“Sí. Mamá didn’t give me much of a choice. I’m her only kid. What about you?” Crap. I didn’t think this through. I didn’t think he would ask about me.

“Uh, yeah. Same. Only child.”

“Does your mom get in your business too? My mamá is… a lot,“ Hart describes her vaguely. It’s clear he could elaborate and say more about her.

“No,” I say and go back to my work. His eyes burn the side of my face with his intense stare. Hart wants me to say more, but I can’t do that. I can answer his other question. Maybe that will appease him. “I work at the Dance Academy downtown.”

“What do you do there?”

“I teach dance.” What else would I be doing there? I suppose I could clean the studios. That’s what I did when I worked at one back in Seattle. I haven’t thought about that place in a long time.

It feels like it was someone else’s life. Maybe it was.

“Are you okay?” I startle at the sound of his voice. Hart places his hand on my forearm. His thumb glides over a freckle, releasing a small flutter in my belly.

“Huh? Yeah. I’m fine.” I smile briefly, then go back to my research while he studies me.

“I asked if you teach the same type of dancing you did at The Warehouse.” Oh. I must have really spaced out. I want to laugh thinking about teaching all the ballerinas in my class street moves.

“No,” I tell him. “I teach ballet. The Academy is a ballet school.”

“Do you like it?”

“Not really.” It’s a lot of work to come up with routines. My heart isn’t it anymore. It probably never was.

“Why do you do it if you don’t like it?”

“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like to do, Hart. Not everyone has someone to bankroll them.”

“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I understand you need to work. I mean, why not do something you love doing.”

“That would be ideal. It doesn’t always work out that way.” Sydney and I did have a lot of fun working at Ray’s last weekend. If the money continues as it is, I’m going to quit my job at the academy and focus on the kids in my neighborhood. It’s draining me doing both.

“If you could do whatever you wanted, what would it be?”

“I don’t know. No one’s ever really asked me that before.” School counselors asked, but they kept me levelheaded and practical. There wasn’t any room for daydreams.

“Really? Well, I’m glad I get to be your first.” Hart wiggles his eyebrows to drive home his innuendo. My body warms, thinking about all the other ways Hart could be my first.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I like helping people.”

“I think there are one or two career options that do that,” he jokes. “Have you ever done volunteer work or anything? I used to volunteer with my old little league team.”

“No. I haven’t.” I was the charity growing up. “What was that like? Helping the kids?” Hart fiddles with a pencil. Flipping it around one of his fingers.

“Did I talk to them? That’s what you really want to know.” I shrug. “Yes, brujita. I talked to them. I coached them. They kept me focused. Being around the kids reminded me why I love the game so much. They also kept me humble.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever spent time with kids?” I nod. I grew up with kids all around me. Not to mention hanging out with the kids in my neighborhood. “Ok, well, they think they know everything. They aren’t afraid to speak their mind either. When you do something wrong, or they do it better. They let you know.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you telling me that a bunch of ten-year-olds showed you up on the field?”

“Once or twice.” His admission shocks me. It’s refreshing. “Haven’t your students ever showed you up on the dance floor?”

“No.” That makes him laugh. He really needs to stop doing that. “They think they’re better than me.” In more ways than one. “But no, I can dance circles around them when it comes to technique and execution. They try to convince me otherwise,” I grumble.

“Show me,” he demands.

“Show you what?”

“What you can do that they can’t.”

“No.”

“Scared?”

“What would I have to be scared of?”

“Messing up. Not being good enough… Me.” I scoff.

“I am not scared of you.” Am I scared of how I feel when he touches me or stands close to me? Yes. But him, no.

“If you say so, brujita.” I want to smack that smug smile off his face. He thinks he’s won.

“There isn’t enough room.” There are too many tables and chairs in the way. You can’t leap or spin in here without slamming into a bookcase. I’m not going to get injured proving myself to him.

Hart surveys the room, taps his pencil on the table several times, then pops up out of his chair.

“What are you doing?” I ask in a panic while he pushes a table out of the way dragging two chairs with him.

“Show me,” he repeats, extending his arms to reveal all the space he created for me. He is so infuriating. I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I reluctantly stand from my seat and walk to the far side of the room. Hart moves behind me. He’s out of my way but close enough for a front-row seat.

I bend over to remove my shoes and stretch out my legs. There is no way I can do turns in my sneakers. Then I reach my arms up and stretch out my back.

I’m aware of his eyes watching my every move. I sneak a subtle look at Hart while I stretch. His face is granite, and his arms are crossed over his chest. Why does he look so angry? This is his idea.

Once I feel stretched and ready, I begin to run across the room. I leap into the air and double tap my heels together before landing gracefully. Executing a perfect cabriole.

I turn in the opposite direction, spinning across the floor, using Hart as my spot. My focus is on him. His dark eyes being my center. He holds me steady with every turn of my foot.

He doesn’t take his gaze off me either. Each rotation brings me closer to him. My training fails me when Hart rakes his teeth over his bottom lip. I lose my concentration and trip over my feet, falling into his arms.

My heart beats a mile a minute. I’ve never been this out of breath after doing one pass of turns before. I’m trained to do them for hours at a time.

It’s the way Hart’s body is pressed against mine and how his thumb grazes the tender skin on the inside of my arm. He’s not letting me go and I don’t think I want him to.

He’s silent as he stares at me with curious eyes and something else, I can’t pinpoint. The longer he stares at me the more unstable my breathing becomes.

Inhaling a few shallow breaths, I attempt to get my nervous system back to normal.

“That was incredible. I had no idea you could dance like that.” Most people don’t. They assume I only know how to do hip-hop or street moves, but I’m a trained ballerina.

I lick my lip nervously. I’m not used to getting compliments. It feels nice. “Thanks.” I look up at Hart and catch him staring at my lips. He smiles sheepishly. Maybe a little unsure.

Swallowing hard, I admire the plushness of his bottom lip and imagine what it would be like to tug on it with my teeth.

This is not something I should be thinking about.

Not when I’ve never kissed anyone before.

Not when Hart is my partner for an important assignment.

My lips part and he takes a step closer to me. The muscles in his cheeks flex and his grip tightens on my arms. I feel him everywhere. My thighs clench on instinct.

Hart leans his head down slowly towards my face. He looks hesitant and that gives me pause. Does he not want to kiss me?

I’m not ready. This can’t happen right now. I need to stop this. He’s an inch from my mouth. I close my eyes. “Cupcakes,” I whisper.

“What?” His minty breath blankets my lips.

“I brought you cupcakes.” I back out of his grasp. Something I should have done minutes ago.

“Cupcakes,” he repeats. “Yeah, sure.” He follows behind me confused. Maybe a little hurt? That can’t be. This is another day in the office for him. Kissing random girls in the library is nothing new. I won’t be another girl he adds to his list.

Taking a seat back at our table, I grab the container of cupcakes and open the lid. The sweet smell of sugar fills the air. I can’t wait to eat one or three of these to erase the memory of having Hart so close to me. That can’t happen again.

“When did you have time to make cupcakes?”

“There is always time to make cupcakes.” I force a smile and take a quick bite. “Sydney and I made them M-Monday n-night,” I stutter over my words when Hart licks remnants of frosting off his upper lip.

Hart offers me a soft smile that comes out of nowhere. What was that look for? “Do the two of you do this a lot?” He asks.

“I don’t know what qualifies as a lot. At least once a month. More if we’re stressed.” I shrug.

“This was a stress bake?”

“Yes.” I clear my throat to release a wave of emotion. “My mom and I would stress bake. She always said there is nothing a little sugar couldn’t fix.”

“I think she’s right,” he says and grabs another cupcake. “What’s got you so stressed? Anything I can help with?” His offer is unexpected.

While Hart isn’t a stranger to me anymore, he is a far cry from a friend. Didn’t stop you from almost kissing him moments ago.

I’ve always found Hart to be egocentric and a little bit of a loner. He doesn’t talk much, if ever, and keeps to himself. He’s not exactly someone I expect to rearrange his schedule for someone in need.

“Not really. But thanks.”

I check my phone for the time. The library closes soon, and we still have a lot of work in front of us. I open a new book and start typing on my laptop. Hart snags one more cupcake and gets back to work too.

Forty-five minutes later, all the Post-it notes have been removed from the reference books, and I have over three pages of notes.

I save the document I’ve been working on, shut down my laptop, and stow it away in my bag. Hart clears the table of all the reference books we used and places them back on a nearby cart to be reshelved by the librarians in the morning.

“Have you ever heard of Westfield Prep?” I ask randomly as we pack up our bags.

“Yeah, it’s that snotty rich school on the other side of town.”

“It’s not that bad.” He clearly disagrees.

“I’ve played baseball with those guys for years. They think they're better than everyone.” A library aide comes upstairs and warns us about the library closing. “Come,” Hart demands. Then throws both of our backpacks over his shoulder, picks up the cupcakes with one hand, and takes hold of mine in the other.

Ignoring the tingling sensation in my hand, I follow Hart toward the exit. “I didn’t know you were an expert at judging one’s character.” He throws a smirk my way. “The school might be full of jerks, but it’s also full of opportunity.”

“You graduated high school years ago. Why is Westfield Prep on your mind?”

“Every year, they offer scholarships for their performing arts program.” Why am I sharing this with him? Hart leads us toward a bench just outside the library. I take a seat and situate myself facing him. He drops our bags on the floor and rests his arm casually on the back of the bench.

“Westfield Prep is a gateway to Ivy League schools and job opportunities that don’t include selling a part of yourself to put food on your table.”

“I know plenty of people who were born with silver spoons and still did nefarious things to get ahead.”

“True. I want better for them. I want them to have more options than struggles. I want them to have so many doors opening they never feel claustrophobic and stuck in a bad situation. Earning a scholarship to Westfield will give them a chance.” I slam my mouth shut. I’ve said too much.

“Who are you trying to help? They must be special if you’re letting yourself get so worked up over them.” Do I tell him? Hart already knows more than I want him to. Would it hurt the kids if he knew about them? Hart runs a thumb over my eyebrow. “You can trust me, cariño.” I nod. I think I can too.

“A few kids from my neighborhood.” Thinking about them makes me smile. They’ve all taken a hit or two but are still full of life and promise. I can’t let them lose that light.

“Why is it your responsibility to help them?”

“It’s not.”

“But.” He understands. I smile and nod.

“But, I feel like if I don’t help them, no one else will. Their parents are drowning in their addictions or struggling to do the bare minimum. I can’t walk away knowing I have the means to help them.”

“So, you’re what? Mentoring them? How are you helping them with Westfield Prep exactly?”

“I’m getting them ready for their auditions.” I check the time on my phone. It’s almost midnight. “I need to go.” Hart offers to walk me back to my dorm. I don’t decline him. Not that he would let me.

On our walk, I share more about the kids. The words flow without any hesitation. Hart listens as I go on about the importance of music and picking a song that tells a story.

He doesn’t interrupt me with questions as I explain the dance style and what we’re doing mixing our street moves with contemporary choreography.

“I want to meet them,” Hart says outside my dorm building.

“What?” I ask, a little stunned.

“I want to meet the people you care so much about. I want to see what you’re so passionate about in person.”

“Why? You can’t write about them.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says sternly, ensuring he has my full attention and understanding. “After what you showed me tonight, I need to see more of what you do.”

Why does the thought of Hart watching me teach make me uneasy? At the same time, I want to show him how well I can move my body on the dance floor.

I have this strange desire to see the effect I have on him. I felt it earlier. It’s addicting and heady having Hart’s attention.

“I’ll need to ask them first. If they say it’s okay, you can come to one of our practices.” I won’t do anything that will make the kids uncomfortable.

“I can live with that.” His smile feels like I poured a packet of pop rocks into my bloodstream. Tiny explosions set off all over my body. “I’m taking these with me,” Hart says, holding up the plastic container of cupcakes.

“That’s fine. I have more.”

Hart says goodnight. I watch him walk back toward the library. We didn’t make plans to meet again. Maybe that’s a good thing.

Hart is proving to be everything I thought he wasn’t. It would be a lot easier to stop myself from opening up to him if he was cold and detached. But no, Hart has turned out to be a good listener, considerate, and caring.

That is dangerous for a girl like me.

I’ve let people get close to me, only to have them leave me behind. There is a protective wall around my heart few have been able to penetrate. Hart is slicing through my armor one conversation at a time.

Sydney’s light is still on when I enter our dorm room. I bet she’s putting new pins in her Dr. Nichols voodoo doll. Maybe I should make one for Hart. Poke pins into him until he’s an asshole again. Maybe then I won’t want to like him so much.

10

HART

Koa walks into the house with four large pizzas and a bucket of buffalo wings. My stomach growls in appreciation.

“The Blazers are a new team. Give them time. They are still working out the kinks. It takes time to figure out how to jell and find a groove,” Nash says to Wyatt, who hasn’t stopped complaining about how shitty our new pro football team is playing.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but they are professionals. They get paid to throw and catch footballs. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to have a few expectations.”

I leave the two of them arguing in the living room and join Koa in the kitchen. “Thanks for getting the food.” I grab a plate and load it up with several slices of pizza.

“No problem. What’s up with Nash and Wy?” Koa nods his head toward an animated Wyatt. I roll my eyes.

“Who knows? They’ve been bickering like grumpy old men all morning.” I take a bite of pizza. “Where have you been?” Football Sunday isn’t a required activity, but it’s one we rarely miss. We’ve been doing football and pizza every Sunday together since elementary school.

Koa mumbles something unintelligible. “You want to try that again?” I snicker.

“I had to fix Sydney’s bookshelf. One of the shelves collapsed.”

“Oh shit,” I say, laughing.

“Oh shit is right. She was fuming. I also owe her a new candle, and something called a prayer plant. I have no idea what that is or where to find it.”

“Good luck with that.” I’m tempted to go with him just to see my tall, tatted friend roam the garden center looking for a prayer plant.

“I’m surprised she didn’t come over.” Sydney isn’t a football fan unless Nash plays, but she watches with us occasionally. When we were younger, she would ‘watch’ the game with her eyes glued to a book.

“Nah, Lauren was about to start braiding her hair. They won’t be done for hours,” he says with a mouthful of food. Enzo was right about braiding each other’s hair on the weekend.

“I’m shocked Sydney trusts her enough to try. She’s so touchy about her hair.”

“Don’t I know it. Remember that time I thought it would be funny to prank her and pretend I shaved off a chunk of her precious locks?” I nod and start chuckling.

“We were what? Fifteen or sixteen?”

“Something like that. I think it was tenth grade. Anyway, Lauren is apparently really good at doing hair. She does Sydney’s all the time.”

“How did you acquire all this information?”

“Sydney talks about her hair a lot.” Koa blows out an annoyed breath. “And she sends me pictures for whatever reason. She sent one earlier when I double-checked the headcount for pizza.”

“Let me see the picture.” Koa raises an eyebrow. I don’t care if I’m being obvious. I’m desperate to see Lauren. Even if it’s just a sliver of her.

I haven’t heard from Lauren since we met up at the library Wednesday night. I saw her in classes, of course. I managed to squeeze a ‘hi’ out of her. Otherwise, nothing.

I take that back. She sent me an e-mail. A fucking e-mail with the notes she took about the library. Along with her thoughts on how to structure our story.

I already had that information. She had chatted on and on about it quietly to herself while we were working side by side.

Endless chatter is like nails on a chalkboard to me. However, listening to Lauren prattle on to herself is an adorable quirk of hers. I could listen to her smokey voice all day long. Especially when she doesn’t even realize she’s talking.

Lauren did thank me for doing all the work marking the pages of the books we were researching. She also apologized for falling asleep. Lauren was so sweet when she was sleeping. Mi dulce brujita.

Koa clicks around on his phone and then flashes it in my face. I snatch the phone from him, making him chuckle.

I inhale a sharp breath. Sydney sent a selfie of her and Lauren. It’s just Syd’s eyes and the top of her head. Half her hair is brushed out prepped to be braided; the other is several rows of neat, colorful braids.

Behind her is what has my pulse racing. Lauren is wearing a tiny workout tank top and shorts. Her creamy skin is on full display. Her hands are busy working a braid. And her face. Mierda. Lauren has the biggest smile on her face. Es muy bonita. So pretty.

“What’s your deal with her? I know she gave you a ride home from the club. You have some classes together, right? Do you like her?” He asks while I’m staring at her photo. I quickly airdrop it to myself, then pass him his phone back.

What’s my deal with Lauren? Wouldn’t I like to know. Are we friends? Acquaintances? Classmates? On the road to something more? It’s impossible to tell.

I don’t know how to handle Lauren. No one has affected me like this before. She puts my senses on overload. Her scent. Her touch. Her taste. I want it all.

Lauren also puts me at ease. Most people make me anxious and uncomfortable. Being around Lauren is like stepping into cool water. The cloud of anxiety I typically feel when speaking dissipates when she’s with me.

“Yeah, man, I think I do.” Koa nods.

Wyatt and Nash enter the kitchen and start digging through pizza boxes. “What are you ladies gossipin’ about in here? Did my ears deceive me, or did Hart admit he likes someone?” Koa glances over at me. He gives me the ‘you might as well tell them’ look.

“Sydney and Lauren,” I admit. Koa’s right. I might as well get this conversation out of the way.

Wyatt is delighted with this information. He is smiling like a loon. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking out his mullet of brown curls. “And what do the two of you have to say about the two of them?”

“Good question,” Nash pipes in, saluting Wyatt with a buffalo wing. “Because I know neither one of you are about to tell me you like my sister.” Nash shudders. Koa stares down at his food. His silence tells me more than words could.

“Of course not,” I say.

“Lauren then,” Wyatt says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Everyone but Nash laughs.

“You have a thing for Lauren?” He questions.

“I like spending time with her,” I tell him.

“I didn’t realize you were spending a lot of time with Lo.” The nickname irritates me. It reminds me how close he is to Lauren.

“We have a few classes together, and we’re partnered up for a couple of assignments.” There is also something special about her that I find intriguing. Nash hums a response. “Do you have something to say?”

“No. I’m just surprised. I didn’t think she would be the kind of girl you would be into, is all.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. She’s so quiet and keeps to herself. I figured you would want someone who doesn’t mind doing all the talking and keep the attention off of you.”

His logic makes sense, but he’s way off base as far as what I want. I don’t want someone to talk to me to fill the void. I want to be with someone who is comfortable with my silence.

Lauren isn’t quiet anyways. At least not the Lauren that I’m getting to know. Sure, she clams up when I ask something personal. I can respect that. I’m also not willing to talk about everything in my past.

Once she gets going on something she loves, like the kids in her neighborhood, the words flow like a faucet. Lauren might keep to herself to hide her secrets, but deep down, she craves real connection. I see it in her eyes. Lauren wants to belong somewhere.

“Lauren talks more than you think.” He shrugs off the thought. I might regret this, but I have to know. “Is there something going on between you and Lauren?”

Nash takes his sweet time mulling over my question. So much time, I wonder if I will have to back off from pursuing her.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve decided I want her. This emptiness I feel when she’s not around confirms it. That almost kiss in the library confirms it.

Damn, I want to feel her lips against mine.

Watching her dance. The way she moved across the room with her eyes on me the entire time. It woke something up inside me. The thought of walking away and adhering to bro code doesn’t sit right with me.

“It’s not like that with Lauren,” he says, and something in my chest loosens. “When I first met her, I thought she was pretty. I mean, she’s still pretty.” I don’t disagree. She’s stunning. “But she’s Syd’s best friend.” He doesn’t have to say anymore.

Sydney has never had a lot of girlfriends. All through high school, she was constantly holding interviews for the best friend position. High school girls weren’t interested in Syd. They were only interested in what Sydney could offer them in the form of hooking them up with us.

I vaguely remember how nervous Sydney was about rooming with a stranger. Nash was still in high school. It was up to me, Koa, and Wyatt to be there for Syd if this girl turned out to be bad news.

I was busy working through my own issues and adjusting to college life. Koa checked in daily with Sydney and reported back to Nash. He was constantly sharing stories about how happy Sydney was with her roommate and the fun they were having together.

I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to put two and two together. The same girl helping Sydney flourish and come out of her shell is mi brujita.

Lauren never spent time with us. Not even when she reached sister status with Syd. Honestly, I think that’s what made their relationship solid. Lauren was never interested in getting anything from Sydney other than her friendship.

“Good to know.”

“You callin’ dibs, cowboy?” Wyatt asks.

“I’m not calling anything. I like her and want to get to know her better.”

“In what way?” Wyatt asks suggestively.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pervert?” Koa ribs on Wyatt. I would be lying if I hadn’t thought about all the ways I would like to get to know Lauren.

I haven’t stopped thinking about her toned legs and how good they would feel wrapped around my waist. Lauren is thick in all the right places.

The photo I just stole from Koa isn’t helping cool the heat flowing through my veins. That’s not what fuels my desire to spend time with her, though.

It’s just her. It’s everything I already know about her and everything I’ve yet to learn.

“I’ve been called a number of things. That may have been somethin’ I’ve heard before. It’s also not the worst thing I’ve ever been called either,” Wyatt jokes, earning laughs from his audience.

“I never thought you would ever be the settling down type. Have you ever had a girlfriend before?” Nash prods. Koa lifts his gaze to mine. He’s the only one who knows why I’ve stayed single.

All the guys know about my speech issues growing up, but they don’t truly understand how much it affected me. Nash and Wyatt don’t know I never felt confident or deserving of a girlfriend because I didn’t think I would be able to talk to them.

Who wants a guy like that? What will Lauren think about me when I tell her everything?

“No. I haven’t,” I admit.

“I don’t blame ya. This cowboy will be maintaining his membership to the local hoedown for the foreseeable future,” Wyatt boasts without an ounce of shame.

“Dude,” Nash groans. “I don’t even know how you pull all these girls with that eyesore of a haircut.” Nash tugs on one of Wyatt’s curls.

“What’s wrong with my hair? Whatever. I ain’t cuttin’ it. This hair won us the championship last year. Deal with it.” Wyatt did pitch a no-hitter and had ten strikeouts in a row with that hair. You can’t mess with superstition.

Koa gets up and grabs a few beers from the fridge. He passes each of us one. I nod a thank you.

“How are you going to handle Lauren?” Koa asks.

“No idea,” I tell him.

“We could help,” Wyatt suggests.

“I’ll pass.”

“In what universe are you helpful with getting a girl?”

“You literally just admitted I pull in a lot of girls, Nashville.”

“To sleep with. Not to date. There’s a difference.”

“I could get a girlfriend if I wanted one.”

“Alright, you two. Let’s stick with the problem at hand,” Koa suggests.

“Let’s not. I don’t need help with Lauren. I’m going to let it ride and see how it plays out. Right now, we’re getting to know each other for our assignment. Lauren may not even be interested.” Wyatt guffaws.

“She’s interested. You’re stacked. You’re mysterious. You come across as a total asshole. You have tattoos. Girls love that shit. Trust me. She’s interested.” With my looks, maybe, but what about me? When has a girl ever been interested in me?

When have you let a girl get to know the real you?

“Right. Well, time will tell. Currently, I can’t even get her to text me.”

“Text her instead. Why are you waitin’ on her?” I don’t know.

Because I don’t want to bother her.

Because this girl is shaping up to be someone I never expected wanting this much.

Because she’s completely out of my league.

“I’m glad Lauren has you,” Nash says out of nowhere. “With everything going on with Matt, she needs someone looking out for her.” That comment raises my hackles.

“What’s going on with Matt?”

“He got blasted during a scrimmage and tore his rotator cuff.”

“You’re shittin’ me? Well, hot damn. And you’re just now sayin’ somethin’?” Wyatt asks.

“We were watching the game.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be startin’ the game now. Congratulations QB1.” Wyatt lifts his glass to toast Nash. We all clink beer bottles and congratulate him. This is a big deal. I almost feel sorry for Matt. No one wants to be injured so bad it takes you out of the game you love.

“Don’t remind me.”

“This is good for you, Nash. It will get scouts looking at you early,” Koa says, encouraging him.

“I know. It’s just a lot of pressure.”

“It’s not like he was any good,” I say.

“He won games.” I scoff. Please. The team won games.

“Right. That’s why the defense has more points scored than the offense so far this season,” I point out.

“Hate on Matt all you want. Our offense is solid.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened between him and Lauren? It couldn’t be that bad if you’re cool being on the same team with him,” I grit out. There is no way I could stomach being around a guy who put their hands on a girl. “And don’t tell me it’s not your story to share. You can tell me your side of things, Nash.”

“I don’t have a choice. I have a football scholarship. If I could get him off the team, I would. Trust me. At least now he won’t be playing. This has only given him more anger and free time.” Nash takes a long sip of his beer. “My first year here, I took Syd and Lauren to the football kickoff party.

“The three of you had an early practice or something and decided to stay home.” I vaguely remember that. It was a long time ago. I can’t get over the fact Lauren went to a party. If I went, would I have spent time with her and felt this same connection I feel now?

“Everything was cool at first. The girls were having fun dancing and hanging out. The two of them together are trouble.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “I made a point to never let them out of my sight. Matt approached us when we were watching a beer pong tourney.

“I could tell Lauren and Sydney thought he was good-looking,” Koa growls quietly beside me. “He is a charmer. A flirt. And he worked them over good. He was particularly interested in Lauren.

“I left them to go to the bathroom. When I came back, it was just Syd waiting for me. She said Lauren went with Matt to check out the cornhole game or something. I was mad she left Syd alone, but knowing Syd, she pushed Lauren toward him.” The fact that he was worried about Syd and not Lauren really irritates me.

“Thirty minutes later, Lauren finds us and said she was ready to go home. Her eyes were wide, her hair was ruffled, and she was straightening her shirt.” My hands itch to hit something—preferably Matt Dailey.

“I don’t know what happened exactly. I can only make assumptions based on her appearance and the fact she never wanted to go back to the football house.”

“She has never gone to any party again,” Koa says.

“Yeah, well. I still feel like shit over the whole situation. Lauren won’t talk to me about it, either. She claims she’s okay, but I don’t know.”

“Matt never said anything?” I don’t want to know the answer to my question. If Matt has been running his mouth, it would take all three of them to keep me in my seat. Nash shakes his head.

“Not until recently.”

“What does that mean?” I bark.

“Chill, Hart.” I glare at Koa. Like he would be chill if we swapped Sydney’s name with Lauren’s. Yeah, he’s not fooling anyone. One day I will get to the bottom of that, but I have my own issues right now.

“He asked me about the girl from the club at practice last week. I blew him off. Told him there were lots of girls at The Warehouse that night.” Damn it. I thought my talk with him would have been enough.

“Text her,” Wyatt advises. “Focus on her. Not him. He would be a dumb fuck to mess with her if the two of you were together.” Did Wyatt just give good advice? “I know. Sometimes I surprise myself.”

After scrubbing a hand through my curly hair, I pick up my phone and stare at our text thread. There isn’t much besides setting up our work sessions. I tried sparking up conversations a few times, but she wasn’t very receptive.

“If you don’t say something, I’m going to do it for you,” Wyatt says. I don’t think so.

ME

Hi.

Wyatt leans over and reads the text. “That’s the best you got, Romeo? You need to flirt with her.”

“You’re a terrible flirt.”

“A bullshit.”

My phone pings before I can correct him.

LAUREN

Hi.

ME

What are you doing?

LAUREN

Why are you asking what you already know?

My eyes snap to Koa. “Asshole.” He just laughs. I’ll get him back when it’s his time.

ME

Am I interrupting?

LAUREN

No. We’re on a break. My hands start cramping after a few hours.

ME

A few hours? How long does it take?

LAUREN

Depends. Today’s style, about 8 hours. I’m almost done.

ME

When did you learn how to do hair?

Dots appear and disappear for a few minutes.

ME

You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.

LAUREN

It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s hard to explain. I knew a few girls who didn’t have parents to do their hair for them. They got bullied at school about it. I’m not much of a fighter so I taught myself how to braid instead.

ME

That’s nice of you.

I want to tell her she’s unreal and I’ve never met anyone like her. Most people would ignore something like that or fight the problem. Not Lauren. She eradicated the issue completely.

LAUREN

It’s no big deal. I have to go. Syd’s getting impatient.

Text me later?

I can’t fight the grin.

ME

Yeah,  cariño, I’ll text you later.

“This is just another example of why y’all need to start takin’ me more seriously. This ain’t just a pretty face,” Wyatt says, pointing to his head. “Look at my boy. He’s smiling. Do you need to take the conversation to your room?”

“It’s not like that.” I push Wyatt away. “We’re just talking.”

The guys wouldn’t understand how Lauren asking me to text her is such a big deal. The girl who has been avoiding me for days wants to talk more. Not about assignments or classes, but about me, her, whatever.

I put my phone away and focus on my friends, the game on the T.V., and anything else I can to keep myself from texting Lauren.

How long do I have to wait until it’s considered later?

11

LAUREN

Hart is waiting for me outside of Morelli’s lecture hall with two coffees. I could cry, I’m so grateful. He knows I was up late last night. I texted him when I got home. He convinced me to watch a few episodes of my favorite murder documentary with him while we texted commentary back and forth.

I’m done avoiding him and the fluttery feeling he gives me when he’s nearby. I want to explore this friendship we’ve started. After texting with Hart a little on Sunday, thanks to Sydney’s encouragement, and hanging out Monday night at the library, I have a little crush on the guy.

It’s pathetic. I hate myself for it. Hart has this quiet charm. He is a slow drip of dopamine into my system. It hardly seems logical coming from a guy who doesn’t smile freely. And maybe that’s the thing. Every time you earn a smile from him, it’s a gift. Hart’s smiles are little trinkets I want to hoard like a dragon hoards gold.

I soak in the sight of him from afar. Hart’s casual lean against the wall should be criminal. He is wearing black mesh shorts and a matching Newhouse Knights shirt. His beautiful body is accentuated by tattoos on his arms and thighs.

“Do you really think that guy is innocent?” Hart asks once I’m within range. “Or is it all a mind game with editing?” He’s talking about the show we watched last night.

“I think they make a compelling argument that he was set up,” I say, walking into the room and taking my seat. Hart settles beside me and hands me a cup filled with manna from the Lord.

I take a sip of my coffee. “It’s perfect. Thanks, Hart.”

“No problemo, cariño.” There is a gasp from the girl sitting a few rows behind us. I glance over my shoulder. Several students are intrigued by our interactions. That makes me tense. I don’t want any attention on me.

Hart puts an arm around me and whispers in my ear. “Don’t worry about them, Lauren.” His fingers glide back and forth over my shoulder. It’s supposed to be comforting, but it puts me on edge. My mind wanders and starts imagining what his hands would feel like on other parts of my body.

The seats begin to fill in around us. Hart will start to shut down now and put his mask back on. I don’t understand why he doesn’t show everyone what he’s really like. He pretends to be this hard, tough guy and I’m realizing that is not him at all.

Why I’m getting the privilege to know the real side of him, I have no idea. I understand it’s part of the assignment, but I can’t help thinking he is giving me more because it’s me. If he was partnered with someone else, it would be different.

I have to keep reminding myself he’s getting drafted and will be leaving after graduation. No one ever stays for you.

Hart looks at me with warmth in his eyes and a smile that no one gets to see but me. Maybe he’ll be the first. It’s a wishful thought I shouldn’t cling to, but I keep a death grip on it all the same.

“I talked to the kids last night,” I say to bring myself back to reality. Hart makes a humming noise and nods his head slightly. “They said they’re cool with you hanging out for a practice.” He smiles. That’s not exactly what they said. I mean, they agreed, but they also teased me relentlessly about wanting to bring a boy to meet them.

“When?”

“Maybe next week? We start around seven at the rec center in town. Do you know the place?” He confirms he’s familiar with the center with a slow nod. “Cool. We can meet there unless you want to come over to eat dinner first.” The muscles around his mouth twitch into a quick smile.

“I like food.”

“I’m sure. Are you going to your parent’s house tonight?” I already know the answer. He nods again in confirmation. A pang of jealousy hits me out of nowhere.

Hart places his hand on my arm with a question in his eyes. I’m about to tell him it’s nothing when Morelli walks into the room, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the class.

“Good morning. Today we’re going to skip the lecture. You’re welcome.” He smirks. “I want you to take the next hour and get to know your partner better. By now, you should be close to wrapping up your first investigation. I’ve been informed some of you have even turned them in. They better be perfect,” he warns. A few students squirm in their seats.

Hart and I have been working almost daily, writing and editing our article back and forth. We’ve been visiting the library weekly, but I feel we could easily run out of time.

We spent Monday night walking around the library, marking areas we think are potential hook-up spots. I thought it would be awkward. It wasn’t. It was tempting. He is tempting. Several times I wanted to test our theory and see how long we could kiss without getting caught.

I’ve had more dreams about Hart being my first kiss than I would ever admit out loud. I take a sip of my coffee, suddenly feeling parched. Hart taps my shoulder. His eyebrows raise. He’s so expressive when he wants to be. Hart skims a finger over my flushed skin. He wants to know if I’m okay. I nod.

“If you haven’t started, well, time is ticking. Firm up your story, do the research, and get it written. You have two and a half weeks until it’s due.

“Get started interviewing each other. I will walk around soon, check in on your progress and answer any questions.”

Bodies shuffle around the room until everyone is sitting next to their prospective partners. A cacophony of voices begins to murmur around us.

Hart removes his arm and digs in his backpack for his notebook. I do the same. Not that I’ve been taking a lot of notes on Hart. Maybe I should.

This part of the assignment feels too personal now. After hours of texting and spending time with Hart, I don’t want to keep a glorified diary about the guy I’m interested in having a relationship with. Then turn around and use all that information to write a story about him. It doesn’t sit right with me. You don’t have a choice. You need to impress Morelli.

“You can pick the first question, brujita.”

“How generous,” I tease. “Are we going to take turns asking questions we’ll both answer or…?” That is preferable. My pulse quickens. I have this fear that Hart will learn something about me and then lose interest. It’s happened before.

“We can do that.” I sigh in relief. “With the caveat that additional questions are permitted if further explanation is needed.” Apprehension must show on my face because Hart adds, “You can tell me anything, Lauren. I want to get to know you better. Paper or no paper.”

I cut off the little thrill that shoots up my spine. I will not be tricked into telling Hart my life story because he wants to get to know me. I will not be hypnotized by his dark eyes.

I like him too much to tell him the truth.

I rack my brain coming up with a safe question. It has to be something general or about our time in college. He already knows why I picked journalism and how I ended up at Newhouse. What else can I ask about?

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” I confess.

“It really isn’t Lauren. Ask me about my mom, my childhood, my hobbies, my favorite foods, anything you want.” He makes it sound so simple.

“Alright. What is your favorite food?” Really, he looks at me. What, I say back to him.

“Gorditas. Sweet or savory ones. I don’t have a preference. My abuela makes these pork ones with pico de gallo and queso fresco. I would eat them by the dozen. My mamá started calling me gordito because of my addiction.”

“Sounds yummy. You’re making my mouth water.” Hart clears his throat. “I guess it is my turn to answer.” He nods.

Hart managed to make his answer about food personal. Food is love for a lot of people. I see it every weekend when I bring food to the families at Royal Oaks.

“I guess if I had to pick something, it would be soup.”

“Soup?” Hart questions me like soup is the worst type of food ever created. “Why?”

“It’s comforting.” It reminds me of my mom. “And you can make soup out of anything.”

When we didn’t have a lot of food, I would scrounge through the pantry and fridge. I could usually find enough to make into a decent soup. If times were really tough or there was an extra mouth to feed, we added more water to stretch the meal further.

“What are your parents like?” My parents? I don’t want to talk about them. I don’t want to talk about her.

“Wh-what?”

“Your parents Lauren. What are they like? I want to know more about the people who raised you.” I laugh harshly. My parents and the people who raised me are two different things.

I pick up my phone and do a quick Google search for ‘get to know you’ questions. I’m not ready to talk about them yet. Not here in a classroom full of people.

“Pick one of these.” I place my phone in front of him. Hart hesitates. “Please.” I plead.

“Okay, brujita.” Hart grabs my phone and starts scrolling through the list of questions. “What’s your favorite kind of weather?” Much better. I let myself relax.

“I like sunny days with a cool breeze.”

“I feel like I know you on such a deeper level now,” he deadpans.

“Don’t be a jerk.” I move to smack his arm, but he catches my wrist.

“Lo siento. I’m sorry. We can talk about the weather, and“ he looks down at my phone and scrolls a little. His other hand continues to make small circles on my wrist. “If you like cats or dogs, and your favorite type of candy if you want to.”

“Dogs, I guess. They seem loyal. I’ve never had a pet before. Milky Ways are my favorite, but I don’t discriminate when it comes to sweets.”

“I like sunny days too. There’s nothing better than playing ball on a cool spring day. Never had a pet either. I don’t eat many sweets.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Your sweets are the exception. It’s pre-season. I can get away with it a little bit. Once the season starts, I will be back to eating clean.”

“That sounds like the worst idea I’ve ever heard of.” A quiet laugh rumbles out of him.

“It’s not so bad. I do what I have to in order to keep my body in shape. My career depends on it.”

“Looks like you’re doing a pretty good job,” I mumble.

“You’ve noticed my body, brujita?” Hart leans into my personal space. Flexing his forearms and smirking as he gets closer. My eyes roam up his muscular arms and his shoulders until I meet his eyes.

For once, he’s the one shaking under my stare.

“You’re over six feet tall. You’re kind of hard to miss.” Hart’s nose caresses from my neck up the side of my face.

I can’t breathe.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he whispers in my ear.

I clear my throat. “Next question. I believe it’s my turn.” I ignore the voice in my head telling me to lean in and let him kiss me here in front of the entire class. Instead, I retreat putting distance between us once again.

Scrolling my phone, I look for a decent question. Most of them are lame. I do find one I would like to know his answer to, but I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to reveal mine. Screw it.

“What is your greatest fear?” Hart lets out a slow breath.

“Pick another one.” He stares down at his hands which are closed fists. What is he hiding?

I stare at him until he lifts his eyes to mine. “You can tell me anything too.” I start scrolling my phone again, looking for a new question. Hart takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair ruffling all his black curls.

“Speaking.” Hart’s eyes search the room to see if anyone is listening to us. They aren’t. Everyone is busy with their partners asking questions and taking notes. “Talking is my greatest fear.” I put down my phone. Taking his hand in mine, I give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Growing up, I had a stutter. I was bullied severely. It made me mute. I stopped talking to everyone except my closest friends. I was put in speech therapy and eventually learned how to talk without it, but the damage was done.” Hart takes a breath. “I’m afraid I’ll start talking to someone, and I’ll stutter.”

“It means a lot that you trust me enough to tell me. Thank you.” It explains so much about Hart. He isn’t brooding when he’s quiet. He’s debating the risk-to-reward ratio of opening his mouth and finding the courage to speak. “And for talking to me. I guess I’m not that intimidating. No need to impress me.”

“No.” He crushes my hand in his. “You are the one person I want to impress. Everyone else…they aren’t important.” Does that mean I am important to him? “Sí, cariño. You are.”

“I asked that out loud, didn’t I?“ He nods with a smirk. I smile back at him with rosy cheeks.

“Your turn. What is your greatest fear?” I was going to tell him spiders, snakes, or some other cliché fear. However, he was open and honest with me. He deserves the same treatment.

“Being left behind,” I admit with a heavy breath. “I’m afraid everyone I care about won’t care enough to stick around for me. I’m afraid once people get to know me, they will realize I’m not worth it.” Hart looks bewildered, as if he suddenly doesn’t understand the English language and the meaning of the words I’m saying.

“Why?” He asks with a concerned brow.

I'm about to answer him when Professor Morelli approaches our desks to check in with us. I pull my hands away from Hart’s and place them in my lap.

Morelli is holding a clipboard with a list of names printed on white computer paper. There are tiny tabs marking each page. He takes a long look at me. Then glances at Hart before flipping through a few pages until he finds what I assume is the one with our names printed on it.

“Alright, James Hart,” he smiles at Hart. “And…,” Morelli drops his eyes to his clipboard. “Lauren Hickman,” he says, his eyes snag on me. “Lauren Hickman?” Morelli asks again. With over one hundred students in this class alone, I wouldn’t expect him to remember each of us by name.

“Yes, I’m Lauren.” He marks something on the paper.

“How is it going so far? What story are you covering?” I look at Hart hoping he wants to answer. I don’t feel like telling my professor we are investigating the hidden make-out spots in the library. Why did I ever think this would be a good idea?

“We are writing a story about the library. The history behind the building and what students do when they think no one is watching,” Hart answers cryptically.

“Interesting. And you will conduct interviews?” We both nod. We’ve already interviewed a dozen students of different ages, backgrounds, sex, etc... Everyone so far has been forthcoming with information. Sometimes too much. I think some people have elaborated their PDA experience to impress Hart. Insert eye roll here.

“How are your personal investigations going? Have you learned anything interesting about each other yet? Hart?”

“A few things,” Hart replies, keeping his eyes on me.

“Care to share anything? Maybe her favorite color, food, or where she grew up?”

“I’m not sure about her favorite color. But thanks to Enzo, I know where Lauren grew up.” Professor Morelli’s eyebrows furrow together.

“She’s met Enzo?”

“And Marco,” Hart confirms.

“Do you two know each other?” I wave a finger between the two of them.

“I worked with Hart’s father right out of college. We’ve been friends for a long time. I’ve known Hart his whole life.” Morelli holds up a hand. “Don’t worry about ethics. My TA will be grading all your papers. I’ll only read them and give feedback.”

“I wasn’t worried. Enzo and Marco are your sons?” I ask. It makes sense. Enzo looks exactly like Morelli now that I’ve seen him up close and studied his face.

“Yes. Hopefully, they behaved themselves.”

“Enzo was giving Lauren the third degree.”

“He gets it honest. Sorry about that, Lauren. My son takes after me when it comes to getting to the truth of things.”

“It was fine. Hart took care of him.” That makes Morelli laugh.

“I’m sure he did. I’m glad to see the two of you working so well together.” Morelli beams with pride and happiness toward Hart. It’s obvious there is a familiarity there that only comes from a seasoned relationship. “I look forward to reading your papers in a few weeks.”

Morelli moves on to the next pair in our row. “Sounds like he’s cool with what we’re writing about,” I say to break the silence. Hart nods. He places his forearms on the table and leans into me. I’ve figured out this is one of his signature moves.

“When did you start playing baseball?” I ask before Hart can bring up my fear of abandonment again. His eyes narrow on me, noting every bat of my eyelashes or fidget of my lips.

“I’ll answer your question even though it’s my turn but don’t think I haven’t forgotten what you said before. That conversation isn’t over.”

“Okay,” I say to placate him. I don’t plan on talking about it again.

“I started playing baseball when I was four or five. It was a way for me to spend time with my dad at first. I didn’t have to talk a lot when I played baseball. That was a nice perk.” He gives me a rueful smile.

“When we figured out I was pretty good at it, and it made me happy, my parents invested more time and money to make me the best I could be. It’s because of them I’m here now.”

“I’d say your dedication,” my eyes flick to his biceps that are currently testing the durability of his cotton t-shirt, “and talent is part of the reason you’ve made it so far.”

"I like it when you say nice things about me, brujita. And when you look at me like that?" He bites his lower lip and shakes his head. He shouldn’t do that. It isn’t fair. He can’t bite his lip like that and not expect me to want things. “You shouldn’t look at me like that. Not now. Not here.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you, cariño,” he whispers an inch from my face. My whole body trembles. In a blink, he leans back in his chair as if the whole interaction didn’t happen.

“When did you start dancing?” He asks without giving me a moment to recover.

“Um, I started taking ballet when I was around four years old. When I was seven, I tried contemporary.” I take a deep breath. Ballet makes me think about my mom. I miss her.

“I had to take a few years off. I didn’t start dancing again until high school when I got a job cleaning a dance studio. The owner let me take one free class a week.”

“You have a lot of natural talent.”

“You’ve only seen me dance one time.”

“That one time was very informative.”

“I bet,” I say, shaking my head and grinning. “All of that is stuff I’ve picked up along the way. I joined the King’s crew halfway through my freshman year here at Newhouse.”

“The King’s crew. Those were the guys you hung out with at the club?”

“Yeah. We have girls in our crew too.”

Hart glances up at the large clock at the front of the room. Class is about to get out. We’ve been talking for almost an hour. It feels like minutes. “Do you want to grab a sandwich at The Round Table? I’ll even get you another one of those brownies you like.”

“Tempting but I can’t. I have plans. Anyway, sharing a brownie with you was a one-time thing. Don’t expect me to do that again.”

“That’s a shame. I would share with you.” I close my notebook on the page that is still blank and drop it in my backpack. “What are you doing for lunch?” I can’t tell if he is worried about what I’m eating or who I’m going to spend my time with.

“I’m having lunch with Sydney and some other girls from our dorm. We try to meet up once a week to check in and gossip. I’m sure they will ask about you. They always do.” I grumble.

“What are you going to tell them?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I’m teasing him, but his face is beyond serious. I lean into him, wrap one hand around his bicep under his sleeve, and drape the other one over his forearm. “I value your trust, Hart. If you think I would risk that by telling the girls something, you don’t know me at all.” I rub my thumb over the goosebumps erupting over his skin.

“Gracias cariño.”

When class ends Hart and I split off in opposite directions. He said he would save me a seat in Anderson’s class. That small gesture makes me feel giddy. I float through the quad on fluffy clouds and over rainbows until I reach our favorite table.

Sitting across from Sydney at lunch, I realize how much I’ve kept from her. My best friend. Sydney doesn’t know much about the kids I’m helping, my fears, or where I come from.

No one does. Except for Hart.

12

HART

I haven’t been to the rec center since I was a little kid. I played a few seasons of basketball. My mom thought it would be a good way to balance out the amount of gorditas I was eating. The rec center is one of the places we went for away games. It’s kind of a shit hole, but I won’t mention it to Lauren. I’m sure she already knows.

The building is practically falling apart. The linoleum floor is chipped in places. The windows have cracks. I could probably find a bullet hole or two if I looked hard enough.

Walking through the door, I’m immediately hit with this stale, musty aroma mixed with artificial lemon and pine. The building is old, but at least someone mopped the floors.

I’m not sure what to expect tonight. Lauren has been quiet since the moment we left her dorm. I can tell she is nervous. I don’t know if she’s worried about me or the kids. She has told me at least a hundred times to ignore everything they say.

“Are you going to teach them some of those moves you were doing while you made dinner?” I tease Lauren. Her cheeks flush while she stares at the floor.

When I got to her room, I knocked a few times on her door, but no one answered. A redhead across the hall asked if Sydney and Lauren were expecting me. I said yes. She told me to use the key under the mat. I scowled at her. She didn’t know me, at least not personally. Almost everyone knows of me on campus. Unfortunately.

Either way, she shouldn’t be telling a stranger about the hidden key under their mat. I will be talking to Lauren and Sydney about this. It’s not safe for many reasons. Especially with the crazy redhead across the hall.

I put the key in the lock, twisted the handle, and pushed the door open. The music was loud. It's no wonder they didn’t hear me knocking.

In the kitchen, Sydney and Lauren were chopping vegetables while simultaneously dancing to the music. Joy radiated off them. It was evident how close they are.

“No.” I used to think Lauren kept her answers short just to mess with me. After spending so much time together, I’m starting to learn her social cues. If she doesn’t talk, it’s because she’s embarrassed or nervous.

I’m not going to push for more. At least not yet. I still haven’t fully processed everything we talked about yesterday.

I wasn’t sure what I expected Lauren to admit as her biggest fear. Maybe heights or drowning.

Being left behind? I wasn’t prepared for that.

Lauren stops outside a door on the second floor of the facility. There is a hard thump of music coming from inside the room.

"What’s wrong, cariño?" I want to reach out and hold her hand or run my fingers down her arm to comfort her. Maybe massage her shoulder gently to reassure her everything will be fine. I want Lauren to understand I’m here for her.

I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

Lauren looks at me. Then down the hall. Her eyes glance at the door and then back to me. Lauren rakes her teeth over her bottom lip debating her next move.

“They’re good kids, Hart, but I fully expect them to say things about you. Ignore them. They don’t mean anything by it. They are just trying to tease me and get under my skin.”

"Is that why you’re nervous, brujita?" She shrugs. “They tease you because they love you. I’m not going to go running because a couple of teenagers don’t like me.” I see it, then. The relief in her eyes when I confirmed I wouldn’t run.

Lauren takes a deep breath, places her hand on the doorknob, and pushes the door open. Two guys and a girl are dancing, facing a wall of mirrors, while another girl with curly brown hair films them.

Lauren urges me forward with a nod. I follow her to a table in the back corner of the room. We’re both careful to stay out of view of the camera. Lauren takes the bag I carried for her and places it on the table.

She unpacks paper plates, forks, napkins, and the leftover tray of the lasagna she made tonight. Damn, this girl is something else.

I’ve never met someone with a heart as big as hers.

A kid half my size and no older than ten steps up to me. He gives me a once-over. “Are you Lauren’s boyfriend?” The kid asks in Spanish.

“No,” I say, hating the answer.

“But you want to be.” The kid reads me like a book. I scowl at him. He laughs. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her.”

Lauren walks over and ruffles the kid’s hair. “Manny, this is my friend Hart. Hart, this is Manny. He is Carlos’s little brother and hangs out with us sometimes.”

“Ouch. Friend zoned. That has to hurt,” he says to me again in Spanish. Lauren furrows her brows. I hope his brother Carlos rags on him. It would be deserved. “I just told him it was nice to meet him. Any friend of Lauren is a friend of mine.“ The little twerp emphasizes the word friend.

"That’s not what you said, Manny. I’m not estúpida." Manny laughs. “Go eat. I can hear your tummy talking.”

“He’s something else,” I tell Lauren as she steps closer to me.

“He’s a great kid. Hides his hurt behind humor.” The love she feels for Manny radiates off her. And damn it, if I’m not jealous of the little guy. “Let me introduce you to everyone else.”

Lauren calls the group over. The music they have playing cuts off. A few of them head straight to the pan of lasagna. They pile their plates high like they haven’t eaten all day. Shit. They probably haven’t.

“Everyone, this is my friend Hart. We have a few classes together at Newhouse.” I really don’t like the way she downplays our friendship.

Is that really all she sees me as? After all this time we’ve been spending together, we are more than friends. I need to make myself clear that I want more.

That I’m willing to give her more.

“This is the guy you want us to be nice to?” The kid leaning against the table asks Lauren. “He looks like an asshole,” he adds.

“Trix,” she scolds.

“What?” He shrugs and stuffs a big bite of pasta in his mouth. “It’s just an observation.” I probably do look like an asshole right now. I’m uncomfortable being around so many strangers.

“I’m Carlos.” Manny’s brother. Carlos holds out his hand for me to shake. His grip is firm. He wants to show me he’s a man.

“Hart.”

“That’s Cash.” Lauren points to the guy standing next to Trix. They look like they could be a lot of trouble together.

Lauren puts her arm around two of the girls. “This is Michie,” she nods toward a tiny girl with short black hair and bangs. The girl still has an inch on Lauren. “And this is Rocky,” she squeezes the girl’s shoulder. “Vivi is the one scowling at you from the corner.” I nod a hello to all of them.

“Hurry up and eat. We have work to do.” Lauren walks over to me. I like having her close. It’s even better when she comes to me, and I’m not constantly chasing after her. “Are you okay?” I nod. I’m good. Especially now that I can feel the warmth of her body. It’s a comfort I could get used to.

Lauren’s arms dangle by her hips, enticing me. Fuck it. I run my index finger down her forearm. It’s a rush. It feels better than hitting a ball out of the park or getting the last two outs of an inning in a double play.

“You can hang out over here. Hey Los, can you grab a chair from the room next door for me?” Carlos talks to his brother before doing as Lauren asks without complaint. It shows how much they respect her.

I settle in one of the two chairs Carlos placed against the wall and stretch my legs out in front of me. Manny takes the empty seat beside me. “Have you ever seen her dance before?” He asks again speaking in Spanish. Did Lauren tell them I would be more comfortable talking to them in Spanish? How did she know that?

“Once or twice."

“So, you know how good she is then.” I do.

Lauren messes with her phone. Music begins to play through a small Bluetooth speaker on a stool in the back corner opposite where everyone just finished eating.

“Michie and Carlos. I want the two of you to work on your duet. Focus on the transitions and getting Meech up in the air.” Michie and Carlos pair off and start interlocking their arms, and suddenly Michie is flipped upside down and over Carlos’s back. Holy shit!

“He’s not bad, but I’m better. One day I’m going to join their crew,” my new little friend says.

“You two need to start working on your solos,” Lauren tells Cash and Rocky. “Right now, just mess around with new moves and how to work them with the song you picked. You did pick a song, right?” They both nod. “Cool. I’ll check back in a bit. Next week we’ll continue working on your duet. Okay?”

“Sounds good Lo. I’m still not sure about that slide at the end. The timing is off. I don’t think it’s going to work.”

“Cash can’t pop up fast enough to transition into the lift,” Rocky adds.

“Show me real quick,” Lauren requests. Cash and Rocky get into position. Lauren counts them off then Cash takes off across the room sliding and rolling his body up into Rocky.

“You’re right.” Lauren chews on her thumb. Her eyes dart back and forth as if she is replaying the routine in her head. “Hart, can you come here? I need your help.”

I bring my hand to my chest. Shocked to be called into the mix. I’m not sure what I can do to help. I’m not a dancer.

“This should be interesting,” Manny mumbles from his seat with a devilish grin on his face.

Lauren meets me halfway. Everyone in the room has stopped what they’re doing to watch me potentially make a fool of myself.

“Can you do a baseball slide on this floor without hurting yourself?”

I see where she’s going with this. In baseball, we have been trained to slide and pop-up onto the bag quickly. If Cash can master the technique, it would cut his timing in half.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Perfect. Slide to me.” Lauren walks away and takes her spot. “Cash, count it out. Watch his footwork. Hart, you go on the count of two.” Cash counts and I take off running. Then slide on one knee, skimming Lauren’s body as I rise into a standing position.

“Just like that,” she says, her voice soft and breathy. Our eyes hold each other’s gaze until Carlos clears his throat bursting our bubble. Lauren steps back adding unwanted space between us. “Except add the body roll and the lift.”

“Thanks, Hart.” Lauren caresses my hand dismissing me.

"Not bad muchacho," Manny says when I take my seat. I shake my head. That wasn’t anything special. An elementary baseball skill. It’s nothing compared to what they can do.

Cash and Rocky talk for a minute then separate to give themselves enough room to work on their solos. They both put their earbuds on and immediately get lost in the music.

“Alright, are you two ready?” Lauren asks Trix and Vivi.

“I guess. What do you got for us, Lo?” Trix looks down at Lauren with his arms crossed over his chest.

“This is going to be a challenge, but I know you can do it. You have to tell the story. It’s not just about the movement. It’s the emotion behind it too. You need to be in love.”

“That’s going to be difficult,” Vivi says.

“Oh, come on, Vivi, baby. You know you can’t wait to get your hands all over this.” Manny chuckles when Vivi slugs him in the arm.

“In your dreams, Trix.”

“Let’s get serious, you two. We’re wasting time. Vivi, have you been practicing the spins I taught you?”

“A little. I haven’t had much time.”

“That’s fine. Show me what you got. If you mess up, just keep going. Trix, watch her a few times then copy her.”

Vivi starts spinning and gets around a few times before she messes up. Lauren encourages her to keep going and points out small corrections to improve her technique.

Trix gives it a try. It becomes painfully obvious this style of dance is not his strong suit. I start to question if he has any dance skills at all.

“Having fun yet, Trix?” Lauren asks in a tone so sweet I know mi brujita is up to no good.

“So much,” he grits out. Lauren holds his leg up higher, and he grimaces in pain as she stretches his muscles in a direction they aren’t used to going.

“I’m glad. Next time you decide to talk to a girl like you did, Vivi, remember this moment.” Lauren drops his leg, and it thuds on the linoleum floor. “Give me some knee spins, Trix.” That puts a smile on his face.

Trix twists his legs like a pretzel and drops to the floor spinning ridiculously fast on his knees. His knees change positions, but he keeps spinning. It’s like he transformed into a human dreidel.

Lauren instructs them to time their spins. She wants them to start and stop at the same time. She asks Vivi to get her leg high enough that it goes above Trix’s head.

It takes them a few tries to get their timing and positioning right, but when they do, it looks incredible. Lauren moves on, and they work on a few more combinations.

Every now and then, I catch her looking over at me. I don’t know if she is checking on me or checking me out. Or maybe she feels my eyes on her because every time she glances in my direction, I’m watching her shamelessly.

It doesn’t take long before everyone is overheating. All the guys have taken their shirts off. Lauren is dripping sweat and keeps lifting her shirt to wipe her brow. It’s part of mi brujita’s spell. It’s enchanting, and it’s making my dick hard. I have to keep reminding myself I’m sitting next to Manny.

My dick needs to calm the fuck down.

“I need to see what this looks like together. Can you show us the whole thing with music?”

“Yeah, show ’em, Lo. We need a break anyway,” Carlos says from his corner of the room.

“Fine. Get your water and go sit against the back wall.” Lauren grabs her phone again and hands it over to Michie. She goes to her bag and puts a little sock-like thing on her left foot. Then she gives herself what looks like a pep talk before she rips her shirt off. I would have choked on my saliva if my throat didn’t dry up.

Lauren is wearing a dark purple bra-like workout tank. It’s similar to the one she was wearing in the picture Sydney sent Koa. The same picture I cropped and saved on my phone. The same picture I look at every night before I go to bed.

Her skin is free of any ink. Lauren is my opposite, and I find that appealing. I like the way my inked skin looks next to hers.

“I’m going to do your part, Vivi. When it’s time for partner work, I’ll improvise. Just imagine lifts and intricate body movements. For example, Trix, when I lay on the floor, you will be doing a back flip over Vivi and landing on top of her.

“As I move around, imagine Trix following my movement in a softer hip-hop style. Vivi your character is unsure about your relationship. And Trix, you’re confident and strong.”

“Sometimes literally,” Rocky quips.

“I can manage it,” he says with a few bicep flexes.

Lauren moves into position in the middle of the room. “Trix, if you want to jump in and freestyle, you can. Maybe by the second chorus, once you get a feel for everything. Don’t be shy.” He nods, but appears nervous on the surface.

Lauren signals Michie, and the music starts up. It’s a slow song with a hard thumping bass. With every beat of the music, Lauren moves slowly and sensually. I don’t like to, but I can imagine a guy dancing beside her like she described.

I can see this guy holding her as she balances on one leg or catching her when she takes a giant leap.

The song is about not wanting to fall in love if the other person isn’t willing to try. The girl singing is asking her partner to stay. It is soft and melodic. I feel like the words are meant for me. Okay, fine, I’m hoping they are. It’s making my heart beat faster and my palms sweat as the lyrics slither under my skin.

Lauren is lost in the music. Her eyes glaze over as she floats across the floor. The tempo changes, and I’m on the edge of my seat. Lauren does a dozen turns, extending her right leg in and out. Then she does this crazy move where she spins, and her head drops to the floor while her right foot points to the sky. It’s incredible. She’s incredible.

Trix doesn’t join her on the floor. He doesn’t move a muscle. No one does except for me. I’m squirming in my seat, trying to keep my body in check. Every person in this room is hypnotized by her.

“No way in hell I will be able to do that,” Vivi says, breaking the silence. Lauren is breathing heavily and glistening with perspiration. She looks hot as hell in more ways than one.

“You can. We won’t stop working until you do,” Lauren says with unwavering faith in the girl. The seven of them talk for a bit about songs and what they need to work on. I stare at Lauren, wondering what she will surprise me with next.

“When are you going to tell Lauren, you’re dying to kiss her?” The squirt beside me asks. “I can put in a good word for you at Sunday dinner.”

“I don’t need you as a wingman, little dude, but thanks.” What’s with everyone trying to help me with Lauren? Is it that obvious I have no game? Manny does get my attention with this dinner thing. Is this why Lauren was cooking so much food? “What’s Sunday dinner again?”

“Carter and Lo feed all the families in the neighborhood at their place on Sundays.” Their place? I swallow a growl. Is she with this Carter guy or something? No. I doubt Manny would offer to put in a good word for me if they were a couple. But they are something, and I want to know what exactly.

“Maybe I should come and surprise her,” I suggest. Manny looks at me like I’m crazy. “What? Girls like surprises.”

“I guess some girls do. I don’t know if Lo does. She doesn’t really like people in her business.” I can’t deny that statement. Lauren is the walking definition of private.

It doesn’t stop me from wanting to extend myself an invite and see what this Sunday dinner is all about. I know the person to help me do it too.

Before we leave, Lauren takes time to talk to each of the kids. She encourages them. Tells them to stay focused. Lauren makes sure they understand they are valued and loved.

When I asked her if she does that every time, she nodded. When I asked her why she said, “Someone needs to.”

And who’s telling you, Lauren? Who is telling you you’re loved and cared for? Who is telling you how you’re going to change the world one day?

And why do I desperately want it to be me?

13

LAUREN

Carter is leaning against the counter in my kitchen. His eyes are lasers burning into my back.

“You didn’t even tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you,” I snap. “And actually, I did. Several times I’ve told you I was getting a job at Ray’s.” Sydney and I have been working there for weeks. I don’t get why he is suddenly bothered by this.

My guess is someone on Carter’s payroll was there last night and snitched on me. He should trust me. Sydney and I are safe. We look out for each other. No one messes with us when we’re there.

I don’t know if Ray warned customers off us or what. We schlep around beers and bourbons, we dance on the bar top, and don’t even get as much as a wink from the guys in our section.

Even without flirting, we still make money. The first night we came home, we threw all the money on Syd’s bed and rolled around in it without any shame. It was awesome.

"There is six hundred dollars in that envelope, Carter. If you think I will give that up, you’re loco." I also kept a couple hundred for myself, which is more than I’ve ever made in a week at the academy.

“It’s not worth it, Lo. You are putting yourself in danger when you don’t have to.” I swing around from the stove faster than Carter can blink. He makes it sound like I’m selling parts of myself to make a dollar.

“You’re wrong. I do have to, Carter,” I seethe. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. I won’t go back to that.” I step into his personal space and jab a finger into his chest. Metaphorical steam is pouring out of my ears. It pisses me off that he thinks he knows what’s best for me.

He has no idea what my life has been like.

Carter straightens and towers over me. “I do know, Lo. And trust me when I say looking for trouble isn’t the answer.”

“I’m not you. I know what I’m doing.” He scoffs.

“Are you saying I don’t?”

“I’m saying at least what I’m doing is legal.” The vein on Carter’s forehead pulses. His nostrils flare. He knows I’m right. I may not be around as much, but I see things. Emilio does a shit job of hiding the bruises on his face and knuckles.

“You are a naïve little girl. You need to remember your place,” he spits.

“And you need to remember you don’t own me!” I scream.

“Watch your tone, Lo. I’m warning you.” Carter waves a finger in my face. I’m about to smack it away and dare him to do whatever he has planned when someone steps in front of me, blocking me from Carter.

Hart’s broad shoulders obstruct my view. His voice is deep and controlled. I wish they weren’t speaking Spanish. I want to know what they are saying.

Peeking around Hart’s body, I glance at Carter. Going by the look on his face, whatever Hart is saying isn’t nice.

I place the palm of my hand on Hart’s back to steady, and hopefully, calm him. I don’t even know if I have that kind of power over him.

When I got upset with Nash, Hart held my hips. It grounded me. His cool demeaner settled over me. Even then, he had an effect on me. I wanted to lean against his chest and let him wrap his arms around me.

I don’t need Hart to fight my battles. Especially those against Carter, but I’m happy he’s here.

Wait, why is he here? Maybe I should be mad that he just showed up without a personal invitation. How does he know where I live off campus?

I’m honestly not sure I care because the overwhelming appreciation that someone is in my corner fighting for me has taken over the lion’s share of my brain. No one has fought this hard for me before.

I continue to rub Hart’s back as he argues with Carter. Hart reaches behind him for my other hand and intertwines our fingers together. He’s showing Carter we’re a team. We’re in this together. I’m not alone.

Staring at our hands, tears threaten to form. I wave them off. I can’t afford to look weak.

“Your problem now ése,“ Carter says to Hart before glaring at me and walking out of my trailer. Hart squeezes my hand. Then he turns around and wraps his arms around me. It’s like taking a sedative that’s effective immediately.

I melt into his chest.

Hart kisses my forehead. “I have someone I want you to meet.” Okay, so we aren’t going to address the fact that your lips touched me or how I witnessed the beginning of a Spanish Civil War?

Hart leads me to my living room, where the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is standing. Her smile is big and contagious. Her dark eyes are gleaming with excitement.

"Mamá, this is Lauren. Lauren, this is my mom, Sylvie." Hart brought his mom to my trailer. She just witnessed her son verbally sparring with another man in my home. My entire body flushes with embarrassment. Not the best first impression.

“Hello,” I say meekly. I even wave like an idiot. This whole situation brings me back to when I was a little girl, standing outside a closed door, praying that whoever was on the other side would like me. I struggle to catch my breath.

“Sweet Lauren. Hello. I’m so happy to meet you.” Sylvie pulls me into her arms and gives me a hard squeeze. She cups my face in her hands. “She’s beautiful, mijo. Tan pequeña. Quiero ponerla en mi bolsillo y llevarla a casa.” Hart chuckles. I look at him curiously.

“She said she wants to put you in her pocket and take you home.” Oh. I don’t know what to say to that. I smile at her.

“I brought food for your dinner. Do you want me to bring it in here?” I nod. Sylvie pulls me back to her side. “Mijo, go to the car and bring everything inside, please.”

Hart checks with me to make sure I’ll be okay before walking outside. “Can I help with whatever you are making in here?” Sylvie asks, walking to the kitchen. Shit. I scramble back to the kitchen. Hopefully, my pasta isn’t overcooked.

“If you want, that would be nice. I think most of it is ready. I just need to pull it all together.” I’m making a few different pasta salads. They aren’t expensive to make and are good leftovers for everyone to take home.

“Hart said you do this every weekend.” Sylvie has made herself at home in my kitchen, draining the pasta and rinsing it off with cool water. I go back to chopping the green peppers and cucumbers I was working on before Carter started ruffling my feathers.

“Yeah. When I was little, my mom and I were on the receiving end of our neighbors’ casseroles and kindness. She worked two jobs and didn’t always have the time.”

My mom worked so hard to provide for us. It was always just enough. I never felt like I was living without. I didn’t realize how poor I was until middle school, and my low income became glaringly obvious in my torn jeans and threadbare shirts.

“When I moved here, I wanted to do the same. Everyone brings what they have. Even if it’s just their appetite.” I joke.

“You are beautiful inside and out, mija.“ Sylvie squeezes my arm. Then reaches over me to add the vegetables I cut into the pasta.

Hart enters the kitchen carrying two big trays of food. He places them on my small dining room table.

“Did she behave?” He whispers over my shoulder.

“She did. I like her. She’s very nice.”

“My mom is nice. Sometimes too nice.”

“Is that a thing? Being too nice?” Hart leans against the counter casually, watching me cut up blocks of cheese. He takes a small cube and pops it in his mouth. Only Hart could make eating cheese look hot.

“No, it is not a thing, mija. Don’t listen to him.“ Hart’s eyes go wide for a second when Sylvie calls me mija.

“What does that word mean?” I ask. Hart looks at me with so much sincerity my heart pinches.

“Nothing that isn’t true, cariño.“ Hart claps his hands. “Tell me how this works. Do you set up the food here or somewhere else?”

“It’s kind of like an open house. People come and go between my place and Carter’s next door.” Hart scowls at the mention of his name. “Don’t think we aren’t going to talk about that, by the way.”

“We will. Later tonight.” The promise of spending time with me after we eat makes my skin overheat.

“Fine.” I sigh. Or maybe I swooned. “There is a fold-up table in the first room on the left.” I point toward the hall. “Can you please bring it to the living room for me and throw the tablecloth on it? People will be here soon with more food.”

Hart steals one more cube of cheese before he heads down the hallway. I force myself not to think about Hart being in my personal space. I don’t have anything for him to snoop through. I’ve been groomed to pack light. I worry my lack of possessions will raise more questions than give him answers.

Sylvie and I work together to finish up the three different pasta salads. She asks me about school and shares a few stories about Hart growing up. Hart interrupts occasionally, giving his version of the story. Their relationship makes me miss my mom. I wonder what stories she would tell Hart about me.

We get everything set up in time for my neighbors to start walking through the door. Manny is the first one to come running inside. He is always the first one here. It’s not his hunger that leads him to my place. His home is not a happy one. Any chance he gets to escape his parents, he takes it.

Manny greets me with a hug. I squeeze him hard enough to see if he jerks in pain. I realize it’s mean, but it’s the only way to know if his dad is using him as a punching bag.

At the moment, their parents are just lousy drunks who say a lot of mean things. Not that those wounds hurt any less than the physical ones.

“Manny, go get some food. I have someone I want you to meet. Is your brother coming soon?”

“He’s with Carter. He’ll be here.”

“What is he doing over there?”

“I see your boyfriend is here.” I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. He’s deflecting, and that is suspicious.

“He’s not my boyfriend. And you’re dodging my question.”

“I don’t know why. Carlos isn’t dumb enough to get mixed up in anything bad. He wouldn’t put himself at risk of getting locked up and taken away from me.”

“You’re right about that, Manny. Alright, go eat, and then I’ll introduce you to Hart’s mom.”

“He brought his mommy here? I have so much to teach this guy.” Poor Hart. He will have his hands full today with Manny.

People filter in and out as they usually do. I make sure to check in with as many of my neighbors as I can. I like to see if there is anything I can do to help them even though my resources are limited. Sometimes I feel helpful just giving them someone to talk to.

Hart is never far from my side. He spends a lot of time talking with Carlos and Manny, who haven’t ventured far from Sylvie since I introduced them. She is filling Manny’s spirit in ways his mother will never be able to. At least not with her current lifestyle.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out Manny is the person leaking information to Hart. He is the reason Hart knows where I live and all the details about Sunday dinner.

They must have chatted more than I realized during dance practice. I should be mad. However, I can’t be when I see the four of them together. Hart will be good for Carlos.

Will Hart also be good for me?

As the night continues, people slowly leave to go back to their homes with enough leftovers for tomorrow. No one leaves empty-handed after Sunday dinner.

“Can Manny and I stay here tonight?” Carlos asks once everyone else has left. I don’t like them staying here alone. If he’s asking, something must be going on at his house.

“Sure. Just promise me you’ll get Carter if you need something. And don’t open the door for anyone except for Carter or Emilio. Okay? And stay in my room with Manny. I don’t want him in a room by himself.”

“Anything else, cariño?” Carlos chuckles. I level Hart with a look. Carlos is fifteen. It’s not unusual for kids his age to be left alone around here. That doesn’t make it any easier for me to allow them to do it.

“Thanks, Lo. We’ll be safe.” Safer than they would be at his trailer is what he’s actually saying.

Carlos gets Manny ready for bed while we clean up my kitchen, pack up the rest of the food, and put the table away. I’ll have to make sure Carlos and Manny eat any leftovers the neighbors didn’t take. I don’t need food rotting in my fridge.

Carlos is standing in the hallway with his head down while Sylvie reads Manny a story. It breaks a part of me. A silent tear falls down my cheek. I want to go to him, but Hart pins me in place with his stare.

Sylvie hugs Carlos and cups his face the same way she did mine. They have a whispered conversation in Spanish. Hart reaches for my hand and holds it firmly.

"Mijo, I’m going to leave now. I’m assuming you will ride home with Lauren." Hart nods. “Good. Lauren, you'll come to Wednesday dinners now? No excuses. I know you work. You can come after. I need you to help me cook.”

“I’ll try. I would love to cook with you again.” That’s the truth. Being in the kitchen with Sylvie felt natural, like we were meant to work side by side. “Thank you so much for coming today and cooking for everyone. The food was delicious.”

“You’re welcome, mija. I will teach you all Hart’s favorites.” Why does she think I will need those recipes?

Once Sylvie leaves, Hart and I say goodbye to Carlos. I text Carter and Emilio to let them know the boys are staying here for the night. I ask if one of them can check on them in the morning.

Carter texts back immediately. I’m glad he can put his ego aside for the boys. I would do anything for Carlos and Manny.

The drive back to campus is quiet. Hart’s hand hasn’t moved from my thigh since he backed out of my driveway. I’ve been staring at his forearm, memorizing the intricate lines that cover his skin.

Hart parks in front of the library. We had already made plans to finish up the last bit of editing of our assignment tonight.

He opens the passenger door for me and grabs the bag at my feet. Hand in hand, we weave through the library past our usual table. I’m about to ask where he’s heading when he stops at a secluded nook in the back of the third floor. It’s one of the spaces we scoped out a few weeks ago.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he guides me into the cramped space. The room is dimly illuminated by the soft glow of overhead lighting and a streetlamp outside the small window.

Hart twirls a piece of my hair through his fingers.

“We are going to talk,” he says in a tone that sends a flutter through my insides. Excuses start rolling through my head.

It’s late.

We need to finish our paper.

We shouldn’t be talking in the dark.

We shouldn’t be standing so close.

So, so close together.

Hart puts a finger over my brow to stop the twitching. My pulse quickens under his touch.

“What do you want to talk about?” Hart leans in, nuzzling his cheek against mine. The scrape of his stubble makes me shiver even though I feel fevered.

“We don’t have to talk with words, cariño,” he whispers in my ear. Hart grazes the side of my face and neck with his mouth.

My knees threaten to buckle. If I wasn’t white knuckling his t-shirt, I’d be on the floor.

14

HART

I should walk away.

I should put some space between us.

I should take her hand in mine and escort Lauren over to our table so we can finish our paper.

But her skin is soft, and she smells so good. I bury my nose in the crook of her neck and inhale a deep breath. Her hands cling to my sides, and her head digs into my chest. The whole world rights itself when she’s in my arms.

This is where Lauren was always meant to be.

I’ve never allowed myself the pleasure of being this close to a woman before. The idea of kissing someone I can’t manage to speak more than two words to wasn’t appealing.

I’ve had offers, sure. Girls in high school and college would flirt and try to tempt me. They weren’t worth my time.

My focus was always elsewhere. Getting good grades and playing baseball were the only things on my mind. Until her.

Lauren swallows when my lips hit her neck. She’s nervous. I am too but my need to kiss her, to taste her, overpowers any other emotions.

Dragging myself away, I run my hands up her arms until I’m cupping her face. “Tell me to stop, brujita,“ I whisper with my forehead against hers.

Lauren’s pulse drums against my fingers.

“Stop,” she says on a breath, stunning me. Ice fills my veins. I lean back instantly. Lauren grasps my hand when I remove it from her face. “I’m sorry. It’s just…give me a minute.”

“Whatever you need.” Not sure how I manage to speak through her rejection. It stings. It’s too familiar.

I’m busy bathing in self-pity when she says, “I’ve…I’ve never done this before. I panicked. I’m ready now.” Lauren pushes her hair off her face, puckers her lips twice, and clears her throat in preparation. My mouth twitches. Dios, ella es adorable.

“I’m going to kiss you now, brujita.”

“You’re not asking this time?”

“No.”

Lauren’s hazel eyes flick from my mouth to my eyes, then back to my mouth again. I slide a hand to the back of her neck and weave my fingers through her hair.

A quiet sigh escapes past her lips.

My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I lean in and graze my lips over hers, testing their softness. Lauren whimpers when I pull away. I don’t go far. I’m too eager for another taste.

I kiss her again. This time tasting the fruity lip balm coating her pouty lips. I pull gently at her bottom lip. Tracing the seam of her mouth with my tongue, I silently ask her to open for me.

Lauren tastes as sweet as I thought she would.

I can’t get enough of her.

She latches on to my forearm and the back of my neck. Her fingernails dig into my skin like tiny ice picks.

Looping a hand under her thigh, I lift her and pin her against the bookshelf. Lauren rakes her hands through my hair and over my chest. Her featherlight touch, mixed with the feel of her lips finally against mine, is almost too much for me to handle.

I pull her hair gently to get a better angle and deepen the kiss. Just for a moment. I just need two more seconds. However, time is irrelevant when we are joined together like this. Lauren is the first to finally break our connection. My forehead finds hers.

“Estoy feliz haberte esperado.” Lauren’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I said. I’m glad I waited for you.” Her head tilts, still appearing to be confused. “You were my first kiss too.”

Lauren barks a laugh before slapping her hand over her mouth, forgetting she is in a library. “You don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.” She drops her legs to the ground and wrestles her way out of my arms.

“I’m not a mentiroso.”

Lauren swings her backpack over her arm and walks toward our table on the other side of the library.

I follow her like a little puppy dog.

“I’m sorry I find it hard to believe.”

“Why is that?” I toss my bag on the floor with a thud, startling Lauren. Sitting in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest, I wait for her to answer. This should be good.

Her face heats to a pretty shade of red. “You’re.” Her hands gesture in my general direction.

“Well, that explains everything,” I snark.

“You are the quintessential dream guy – tall, dark, and handsome.” I stare at Lauren making her squirm in her seat.

I like having her like this.

I also like knowing that I meet her dream guy requirements.

Grabbing the seat of her chair, I yank it until she’s positioned between my legs. Lauren squeaks in surprise.

“Dream guy?” Gripping the sides of her chair, I run a thumb up and down her outer thighs. Now that I’ve held her close, it’s like my body requires me to touch her.

I will never be the same now that I’ve had a taste.

“I didn’t say you were my dream guy.” Her words would hurt if she wasn’t trying to hide the blush on her cheeks behind a curtain of chestnut hair.

“I wasn’t always like this. In high school I…” I suck in a breath. The weight of Lauren’s hand on mine gives me the courage to continue. “I didn’t talk at all. It didn’t feel right trying to get with a girl I couldn’t even talk to.”

“Did you try? To talk to them?” I shake my head.

“Didn’t want to. I focused on baseball. My grades. I wanted to get a scholarship one way or the other.”

Lauren nods along with my explanation.

She stares at our connected hands for a beat.

“You wanted to talk to me?” I want to do a lot more than talking. Lauren isn’t ready to hear all the things I want to do to her. “I know you have to for the assignment.” Fuck the assignment. “But did you want to?”

"Sí." I can’t say more without laying all my cards on the table. I’m not ready to do that yet. “Why haven’t you kissed anyone?” I turn the tables on her.

“Boys tried.” I tighten my grip on her chair. Lauren chews on her fingernail. Her eyebrow starts twitching. She gives me a once over and seems to have resolved whatever conflict that was running through her head.

“I grew up in foster care.” Not what I expected her to say at all. I lean back in my seat. Wrong move. Mierda.

Lauren wraps her arms around herself. “It’s not a big deal. There are a lot of kids in the system. Most of the time you wouldn’t even know they were in foster care.”

“Hey,” I tip her chin up. “Mírame cariño” Her stubborn eyes glare at me. That’s the spirit. “You caught me by surprise. There is nothing wrong with growing up the way you did. Unless you weren’t in a good place. Were you?”

“Good enough.”

“Mierda. I’m sorry.“ I crowd her and wrap my arms around her, but she pushes me away.

“I don’t want your pity. I don’t want you to treat me differently.” Rolling my lips, I expel air out my nose.

“I do not pity you. Why would this change anything?”

“It always does. No one wants to be friends with the poor foster kid from the group home.”

“Group home? You weren’t with foster parents?”

“No.”

“Why?” She rolls her eyes. “You can tell me anything. This is for me. Not the assignment. Por favor, cariño.”

“No one wanted me.” I scoff. “I bounced around for years after my mom passed away.” She waits for me to speak but I don’t think she wants any more apologies.

“There was one couple that seemed interested in keeping me, but they changed their minds.”

“What do you mean, they changed their minds? Can they do that?” She shrugs.

“I don’t know but they did. My foster mom got pregnant with twins and my foster dad got a new job out of state. They were getting everything they wanted. They didn’t need me anymore.

“He took me out for ice cream at the diner my mom had worked at. I was so excited. It’d been a long time since I’d been treated to ice cream and the diner had the best.

“It was a setup. Instead of taking me back to his house, I was dropped off at the group home without even looking back.”

I sputter out a bunch of curses. I don't understand. “How can they do that to you? I never would have let you go.” Lauren stares at me like she can’t believe what I just said. Like wanting to have her around is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

“They had to do what was best for them. That didn’t involve me. They were starting the family they always wanted. They didn’t need the twelve-year-old stand-in anymore.”

“You were their family, Lauren!” How did this girl turn out so sweet? How did she get dealt with so much shit and still come out on the other side happy? I would be full of so much hate and anger if I were her.

I understand her on a whole new level. Her quiet nature and the need to be invisible makes a lot more sense.

It’s how she survived.

“Shhh… keep your voice down.”

“I don’t like that you went through all of this, cariño. I want to hurt anyone who had the nerve to hurt you.”

“There’s no point in being mad. I tried that.”

“I can be mad if I want to.”

“It doesn’t help anything. My mom was still dead. My dad still never showed his face. And I was still on my own. I made it here, Hart. I graduated. I got into a really good school. I’m making it. I’m not a statistic.”

“Yes, you did. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am.” She picks at the hole in her jeans.

“I’m sorry you lost your mom,” I say softly.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Do you want to talk about her?” She shakes her head. “What was the group home like?”

“It wasn’t bad. Lots of kids in different age groups. I guess that was the hardest. It was never quiet. You were never alone. I shared a room with five other girls.”

“That probably made living with Sydney a breeze.” A smile pops on her face.

“One would think,” she jokes earning a laugh from me. “I didn’t pay attention to people, and they didn’t pay attention to me. I kept busy with school and helping around the house.”

“Like braiding hair and cooking?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing happened to me. Like I said, I’ve never even kissed anyone before. The boys would hint at it, but they never messed with me when the other girls were willing.”

That’s a relief. I’m not sure how I would react knowing someone took advantage of Lauren in some way. It’s bad enough that I want to hunt down her foster parents.

“My turn to ask the questions.” I think I did a good job explaining myself earlier. Not sure what else there is to say.

“Fine.”

“What did you say to Carter?” I’d forgotten all about that guy. I’m not his biggest fan. Walking into her house and seeing him in her face, sent fury through my veins.

“Nothing. I told him he can’t point fingers at you or talk to you like that. If he did it again, there would be problems.” It’s becoming a full-time job defending Lauren. A job I'll gladly do.

“You didn’t have to do that. I can handle Carter.”

“I’m sure you can, cariño. It doesn’t mean you have to. Not anymore. You have me now.”

“I have you now? What does that even mean?” I let out an exasperated sigh. For someone who takes care of so many people, it is shocking how little she lets other people help her.

I lift her out of her seat and put her on my lap. She attempts to move back, but I swat the side of her thigh. “Stay.”

“We’re in the library.”

"Sí, we are. No one will bother us up here." Lauren knows it too. Our research shows that this part of the library is hardly used for anything other than hooking up. Tentatively she places her hands on my biceps. I loop my arms around her back.

“I like you, Lauren.” I hold her closer. “When I say you have me, I mean you have me. Whatever you need, I’m here for you. I want to be someone you can depend on. And before you say something.” It’s on the tip of her tongue to start arguing with me. “I know this isn’t easy for you. Let me show you that I’m different. Okay?”

Lauren’s eyes trace the Newhouse Knights logo on my chest while I hold my breath waiting for her to respond to my declaration.

“Okay.” She exhales. “I like you too.” I roll my lips to hide my grin. “You’re a lot sweeter than you let on, you know.”

“Don’t tell anyone. It’s our secret.” I kiss her again. It’s a high being able to kiss her whenever I want now that the door has been opened. “We should get to work,” I grasp her hips and reluctantly lift her off my lap.

We spend the next hour putting the finishing touches on our paper. Lauren is a really good writer. It’s obvious that she got to Newhouse on the back of her talent. Her words have the same power that she does. They grip you and pull you into the story. I’m basically moral support and a proofreader at this point in our duo.

Walking back to her dorm, Lauren updates me on the kids’ progress on their auditions. They told me most of this earlier at dinner, but I let Lauren ramble on.

She asked about my baseball practice. I tell her about the new guys on the team and how extreme Coach is with so many of the seniors entering the draft. Lauren’s shoulders go tense when I mention the draft. I want to ask why, but I'm afraid of her answer.

“What are we doing here, Hart?” Lauren asks when we get to her door.

“Something good, cariño. Something really good,“ I say and kiss her goodnight one more time.

15

LAUREN

I quit my job at the Academy. The idea has been rolling through my head for months. I pulled the trigger today.

The last straw was hearing a few Westfield Prep parents complaining about the ‘trailer park trash’ taking up all the scholarship audition slots and how they don’t belong at their school.

Rage oozed from every pore. I wanted to say something, but the words got lodged in my throat. Not like it would matter. People like that don’t listen. They only care about one thing. Themselves.

I immediately found my boss Katrina and told her due to personal issues I wouldn’t be able to work here anymore. She took it well enough. She looked like she was expecting it.

I guess it was harder than I thought to hide my lack of interest. I tried my best to be present and do a good job, but it wasn’t easy.

Last night Hart reminded me about my open invite to his parent’s house for dinner. And well, it sounded nice.

I know Hart is leaving after graduation. He’ll be off at training camp or wherever he goes once he’s drafted. I’ll be left behind. Again. It would be smart to remember this.

It’s hard to do whenever he’s kissing me or holding my hand. Or when he brings me coffee in the morning or stays up all night watching my favorite murder documentaries with me even though I know he’s exhausted from practice.

Hart keeps saying we’re starting something good. I believe him. I feel it every time we’re together.

Good things don’t last for people like me.

Sydney has a sixth sense when it comes to knowing when I’m stressed out. Last night she started pulling ingredients for brownies and mixing bowls out before I even said anything.

I poured my heart out to her while we scraped remnants of raw brownie batter out of a bowl. Sydney insists I’m the one who needs to be careful with Hart and not the other way around. I don’t get it. I mean, I’m me. A little nobody. And Hart is one of the most popular guys on campus.

I’m not ignorant of all the stares we receive when we walk to classes together. I’ve heard the words ‘lucky bitch’ whispered behind my back on more than one occasion. I’m aware I’m the underdog in the story. I have been my entire life.

Even when my mom was alive, we were the underdogs together. Fighting every day to keep our heads above water. I get all my fight from her. She taught me how to be strong.

Sitting on his front steps, bag of brownies in hand, I’m questioning myself. Am I doing the right thing? He has no idea I’m waiting for him to get home from baseball practice. I’m glad no one is home yet. I need a few minutes to get my head and my heart on the same page.

The rumble of an engine draws my attention to the parking lot. Hart’s car pulls in beside mine. Through the windshield I’m met with three very different expressions. Wyatt looks amused to see me sitting here. Koa seems intrigued. And Hart is a mix of surprise and concern.

I shouldn’t be here, and he knows it. Is he worried about me? Or is he upset that I’m here and now he has to either tell me to leave or bring me with him?

Hart says something to the guys. They scramble out of the car, grab their gear, and pass by me saying a quick hello on their way into the house.

Hart slips out of the car. He doesn’t bother grabbing his gear. He beelines it straight to me instead. His hat is backwards taming his curly hair. His shirt is still sweat stained and plastered on him like a second skin.

I stand from where I’m sitting on his stoop. I’m a step above him, and I still have to bend my neck back to look him in the eye. "Brujita." His deep voice rumbles, shaking my core. “Why are you here?” He asks as his hands find the sides of my face. His kiss is gentle, yet my legs still tremble.

“I thought I would come to dinner after all.”

“What about work?”

“I quit.”

“You quit?”

“Yes, I make enough at Ray’s. I’ll have more time for school and the kids.” I’ll have more time for you.

“Come inside. Tell me everything while I shower.” My eyes go wide. Liquid heat pools between my legs at the thought of Hart naked in the shower. “You can join me if you want, brujita.”

He’s joking right? Hart kisses the top of my head. Then spins me around toward the door. I grab my purse and the bag of brownies.

“Why are you stressed, cariño?”

“How did you know?” He tips his head toward my hand. I follow him upstairs to his room. I’ve been in their place a few times when I came with Sydney, but I’ve never been upstairs.

“Oh, right. No, I’m not stressed. Not anymore now that I’ve made my decision. I’m happy.”

“Good,” he says as we enter his room. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Walking into Hart’s room, it’s like I’m drinking the concentrated version of him. His personality, his smell, everything about him is amplified to one hundred in his room.

I put my purse and brownies down on the corner of his desk that sits in front of a window. Doing a slow turn around the room, I take in his personal space. It’s simple. Gray walls, sparse furniture, no art or posters decorating the room. There is more baseball equipment than anything. A few books stacked on the nightstand and dresser.

His bed is neatly made. Layered with navy and rust blankets, duvets, and matching pillows. It’s inviting. I’m fighting the urge to climb underneath the covers and completely submerge myself in the smell of him.

“You keep looking at my bed like that brujita, and I’m going to throw you on it.“ Hart’s bare chest heats my back, and his erection skims my ass. I instinctively arch into him. My body craves more of him.

“You.” Hart pushes my hair aside and kisses my neck. “Are too tempting.” He kisses me again and then he leaves the room to take his shower.

Letting out a long sigh, I dive onto his bed, groaning into the navy duvet. I’m tempting? I’m not the one walking around shirtless. I’m not the one who fooled me into thinking he was broody, mean, and unapproachable. No, turns out he’s the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met.

I reluctantly peel myself from his bed and locate my phone inside my purse. I have a few missed texts from Sydney.

SYD

I have study group tonight. I’ll be late

ME

With Seth? Anything I need to know?

SYD

Yes, with Seth. No. Just studying. I am getting a vibe though.

ME

A good one?

SYD

Yes, but…

But he’s not Koa.

ME

I know. Just don’t count Seth out, okay? Give him a chance. I know it’s hard.

SYD

Okay. I’ll try.

Where are you? Did you quit?

ME

Yes. I’m at Hart’s place now. I don’t know when we’ll be back from dinner at his parents’ house. I’ll text you though.

SYD

Meeting the parents.

ME

I’ve already met his mom.

I walk back to Hart’s bed and lay down on my stomach hugging a pillow under me. I sniff the damn thing like a psycho. It smells like him. I want to steal it and cuddle with it every night.

SYD

But this is both of them at their house. It’s serious.

ME

Are you purposely trying to freak me out?

SYD

They will love you, Lo. You have nothing to freak out about. You’re amazing. Hart is crazy about you.

ME

He is not. Anyway, how would you know that?

SYD

It’s pretty obvious. You aren’t hiding your feelings either.

You ain’t foolin’ me, Lo.

ME

What if he just likes me because he isn’t afraid to talk to me. I’m like the only option he has, ya know?

SYD

Is that what you’re worried about?

One of the things, but I’m not ready to tell her more. Sydney doesn’t know about my family and foster care. I need to tell her. I will tell her. Just not yet.

ME

Sometimes. Yes.

SYD

What if he talks to you because you are the only option period? The only one he sees. The only one he wants.

ME

Sounds like a fairytale from one of your books Syd.

The door clicks open, and I’m clouded in a haze of Hart’s body wash. The sandalwood and mint scent reminds me of when I gave Hart a ride home after the dance battle. That night seems like so long ago.

"Brujita." Hart’s voice is strangled as if he is struggling internally to keep himself in check. I look at him over my shoulder and squeak.

Hart’s dark, curly hair is wet and hangs heavy on the left side of his face. He is also naked except for a towel he has in a death grip, wrapped low around his hips.

I’m staring. I know I am, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the hard packed muscle in front of me. I force myself to turn around so he can get dressed and fire off messages to Sydney so fast I’m surprised my fingers aren’t smoking.

ME

I’ve got to go. Hart just walked back into the room.

IN. A. TOWEL.

A fucking towel Sydney!

“Are you dressed yet?”

The door clicks shut again. “No,” he says. His voice is closer this time. I flip over on my back, leaning on my elbows. Hart swallows hard. His eyes raking over my body with precision. He is cataloging every detail from the top of my head to the shoes on my feet. There’s no hiding the bulge hardening beneath the poor excuse of fabric I called a towel.

"Brujita," he warns me again like I’m doing something wrong. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I’m not naïve to sex. Yes, I’ve never had it, but I grew up around it. Kids were always sneaking in and out of rooms and sharing beds when no one was looking.

Like Hart, I got offers, but they didn’t seem worth my time. There was never anyone who caught my attention. Not the way Hart has. When I’m around him there is this buzzing feeling in my body. An acute awareness that he is near filling me with a desire that is foreign but feels so right.

“Don’t you brujita me like I’m the problem here.“ He chuckles. I stand up, waving a finger in his direction. A big mistake on my part.

I’m centimeters from his beautiful tattooed skin, chiseled abs, narrow waist, and thick, broad shoulders still dripping with tiny water droplets I want to lick with my tongue.

Hart turns his back to me and starts digging around in the top drawer of his dresser. I take the moment to admire the expanse of his back and the way his muscles flex as he roots around in the drawer.

“If you were only in a towel, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” Is this a threat? A promise? Where does one find a towel to find out?

I can lie to myself all day, but there is no denying the attraction I feel when I’m near him. I want more from Hart. More of his kisses, his touches, his words.

He bends over and jockeys his legs into a pair of black boxers. I should look away and give him privacy, but I don’t. Hart is testing me. How far can he push me until I snap?

Hart drops the towel and faces me again. I don’t cower, if anything I want to move closer. “You look a dream in these.” Hart hooks a finger into the belt loop of my jeans. “Your ass staring up at me while you are lying on my bed. A brujita de fantasía.”

“A fantasy,” I say, taking a step closer. “What else do you fantasize about?” I trail a finger through the thin line of dark hair running from his belly button to the elastic band of his boxers. His muscles tense. My body comes to life, humming with power.

“You on your knees. You naked and spread out on my bed.” His hands palm my ass and he presses me into his hard body. “You gripping the headboard, screaming my name when I make you come from my tongue.” I cough, likely choking on the lust that is bubbling and brewing inside me.

“Would you like that, Lauren?” I hold on to Hart like he’s a lifeline. His skin is smooth and soft even with all the hard muscles underneath.

“Yes,” I answer honestly. His body shutters and he grinds against me once. Twice. Then kisses the top of my head.

“We’re going to be late,” he says. Then pulls away from me. Hart moves around his room getting dressed like this conversation never happened.

Meanwhile, I’m so turned on I’m about to excuse myself and go to the bathroom to take care of myself.

Once Hart’s dressed in jeans and a dark blue Newhouse baseball tee, he walks over to me and pushes his fingers through the hair on the back of my head.

His kiss is powerful and full of promises that say there is more to come. It’s his eyes that knock me off my feet. They are black orbs full of desire and affection. It’s heady and overwhelming. I squeeze his hand in understanding.

I know I feel it too.

I love cooking with Sylvie. She cooks the same way I do. With loud music and lots of spice. She is a little more heavy handed on the spice than I am.

Hart left the two of us alone to help his dad, Stephen, with something in the garage. Stephen, who is his stepdad. Hart explained when he saw the questioning look on my face. With a kiss to the top of my head and a smack on my butt he said he would tell me everything later tonight.

I’m a little disappointed he hasn’t said anything before. Why wouldn’t he? I told him everything, well almost everything about my past and I know nothing about him.

Why is that? Am I that self-absorbed? Was I so caught up in sharing everything I’ve kept secret for so long I didn’t think about asking Hart about his family? Or did he not want to tell me? Does he not trust me?

Worst case scenarios run through my head with every cut of the knife I’m wielding. Is our relationship just physical attraction for him? Maybe he doesn’t feel the same deep connection to me that I do for him. Maybe I’m falling for some grand illusion.

Sydney is wrong. I’m the one who is putting their heart on the line. I’ve never given this much of myself to anyone. I’m the one who is going to get hurt at the end of all this if I’m not careful.

“Are you okay, mija?“ Sylvie asks, with a soft touch to my shoulder. I nod. She doesn’t believe me. Concern is still etched on her face. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

“My mom taught me a few things when I was younger. We mainly baked together.” I clear my throat. “I’m self-taught. In one of the homes I lived in for a while, the foster parents didn’t like to cook. I got tired of sandwiches and decided to give it a try.

“When I moved into the group home, I offered. It was something to do to pass the time.”

“Group home? You were in foster care?” I nod. I’m a little surprised Hart didn’t tell his parents. Sylvie dices a red pepper aggressively and curses.

“It wasn’t a bad place. I was never hurt or anything.”

"Sí. That’s good. And you’re here now. With familia." She calls me family like this is where I was always meant to be. Like I belong here with her, Stephen, and Hart.

And here comes that flicker of hope I don’t dare believe in because I want to belong. I want to be with Hart. When I’m with him it does feel like home. I’ve felt a serene comfort with him from the moment I stood next to him at The Warehouse.

When Matt came over to us, it was Hart I edged closer too. It was Hart I searched for in the crowds. It was Hart I thought of when I went to sleep that night.

The door that leads to their garage bursts open suddenly. “I’m just going to say hi. Calm down, Hart.” A voice carries through the kitchen. I recognize him from the club. Marco.

“Mamá,” he says to Sylvie, kissing the side of her face. “Lauren. How have you been?” He asks as Enzo and Hart enter the kitchen.

Hart stands behind me and places a possessive grip on my hips. Hart must give him a non-verbal warning above my head, if Marco’s smirk says anything.

“Good. You?” He chuckles.

“I think we can move past one-word answers now. Don’t you? I’ve been amazing. Thanks for asking. I’ve been pitching burners. And I’ve got a new girl.”

“You always have a new girl. Let’s not act like this one will be around long enough for you to find out her last name,” Enzo says tersely. I have a feeling this is how he talks. Stiff and impassive.

“She knows my last name,” Marco defends.

“It’s on your fucking jersey numb nuts.”

“Language!” Sylvie scolds. Shockingly Enzo apologizes.

Stephen calls out to Hart from the garage asking for his help.

“You two are helping,” Hart says to Enzo and Marco. “He wants all the pavers moved from the garage to the backyard.”

“Coach said I’m not allowed to lift anything other than my bat with my pitching arm. I can’t risk an injury before the season starts.”

“You make the jokes too easy, Marco. Your arm will be fine. Let’s go.”

“No, I think I’ll stay and talk with Lauren.” Marco grins at Hart. He doesn’t mean anything by it. I can see he is playing around with Hart. Maybe because I’m the first girl he’s brought home?

Either way, Hart doesn’t like it. He locks his arm around me and pulls me flush against his chest.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with so we can eat. I’m starving,” Enzo says, his eyes narrowing on Hart’s left hand which is still pinning me in place.

“Are you good?” Hart asks, spinning me around so we’re face to face. “I didn’t know they were going to be here.”

“It’s okay. Go. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” He grabs my face. Then kisses me hard, marking me as his. “I won’t be long.” Hart walks out the door and I’m still gripping the countertop trying to catch my breath.

How can he recover so fast?

I pat my cheeks hoping it might cool them down. Sylvie gives me a knowing grin. Marco is smirking at me too. I reach over the island and push his shoulder telling him to knock it off.

“What can I do to help?” Marco asks. I’m about to answer him but Sylvie beats me to it.

“You are not cooking in my kitchen, Marco. Why don’t you and Lauren go talk in the living room. Get to know each other better.” Why would I need to get to know him better? He is one of Hart's closest friends. Maybe I should make an effort even if it's hard for me.

“Okay,” I agree. I wash my hands at the sink before following Marco into the living room. The furniture is modern and in neutral shades of white and gray. The artwork on the wall screams bright and cheery. There is so much color. It’s exactly what I would expect from Sylvie Hart.

Marco takes a seat in the middle of the couch. I opt for one of the side chairs anchoring the room.

“So,” Marco starts. “You and Hart. I thought I saw a spark of interest that night at the club.”

“We’re…I don’t know what we are.”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I don’t want to hear what is happening between Hart and my…my new best friend.”

“Best friend. That’s a bit of a stretch don’t you think?”

“Why can’t we be best friends?” The pout he makes has me laughing.

“I have a best friend already. I don't think she's willing to share."

“I’m a cool dude. There's room for me and Syd.” Why is he pushing this?

“Maybe, but I’m not interested.” He considers me for a moment. I can sense he’s frustrated with me.

Should I tell him it's nothing personal? I don’t know how to be any other way. I don’t know how to let people in. What’s the point when they always leave?

It’s better this way for everyone.

“When did you learn to dance?”

“I’ve been dancing most of my life.”

“Then you can teach me something.” He claps his hand and pops up off the couch. “A little one two step.” He does a little jig with jazz hands. Laughter bursts out of me.

“Please stop,” I beg. He doesn’t and I finally grab his hands and hold them still. “You look absurd.”

“This is why I need you. Teach me something that will impress my girl.”

Marco has an infectious way about him. He is easy going and carefree. He reminds me of Wyatt in a lot of ways. You can’t help but feel light and happy when you’re around him.

For the next thirty minutes I teach Marco a few body roll and hip thrusting moves along with some footwork sure to impress any of his lady friends.

By the time Hart comes into the room to get us for dinner, Marco and I are both in tears from laughing. Hart’s silence is nothing new, but for the first time it’s heavy and tense.

The silent treatment lasts throughout dinner and the drive home back to campus.

“Come inside, brujita,” Hart says once we’re parked outside his townhouse. I should say no to his demand and issue one of my own. Why should I go inside with him when he couldn’t be bothered to speak to me all night?

Hart opens my door and waits for me to exit the car. His eyes are filled with a sadness and a pain I’ve never experienced before. Whatever he is about to tell me, I need to hear.

I hope my heart can take it.

16

HART

I throw my keys on my dresser and kick off my shoes. I’m being irrational, but this is what Lauren does to me. Between my feelings for her and the voice in my head that keeps reminding me who I was years ago. I’m having trouble functioning.

I was the loser. The kid everyone made fun of. The kid girls didn’t want to be seen with. Let alone be attracted to. Even my own dad wanted nothing to do with me. The kid with the stutter.

Why all of this is coming up tonight, I don’t know. But seeing the way Marco and Enzo were interacting with Lauren triggered something.

Enzo was asking questions about my relationship with Lauren with a stern look on his face. Almost like he was unhappy that we had started dating. Why is he even concerned about it? He’s never been this protective over any of the other guys. Is he worried that Lauren is going to hurt me?

And then Marco. That bastard. Flirting with Lauren. I watched them for a while in the living room. Dancing and laughing. What the fuck was that? I want to be the guy who makes her laugh. I want to be the guy she dances with.

The only guy.

Is this what Lauren does? Is she friendly with everyone until they are under her little spell? I thought…I thought she reserved those parts of herself for me, but now I’m not sure.

I feel like I’ve tricked myself into thinking there is more between us than there is. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I rest my forearms on my knees. I’m acutely aware of Lauren watching my every move. I scrub my face and run my hand through my hair. Anything to erase these feelings of insecurity.

“James.” James. I hate that name. It’s my father’s name. The man who all but forgot and left me because I didn’t turn out to be the perfect son he wanted. The day he said his final goodbye I had all my friends start calling me Hart.

Hearing my name from Lauren’s lips makes the name take on a whole new meaning. It isn’t my father’s name I hear anymore. It’s mine. Lauren calling me James puts all my senses on high alert. As if she’s saying ‘Pay attention. Something important is about to happen.’

Lauren steps in between my knees and I wrap my arms around her thighs. My head burrows into her diaphragm just under her chest. Her hands gently stroke my back and into my hair like she is calming a wild animal.

“What happened tonight?” Lauren asks. I’m not ready to talk. I push myself further into her hold.

I’ve never been one to share my feelings openly. I’ve never put words to my fears or insecurities. I think my mom knows my father left a stab wound in my heart, but over the years it has healed. At least I thought.

“Did you have fun?” My question is meant to sound neutral but comes out tinged in the jealousy I’m trying to hide.

“Yes. The food was amazing. Your mom is a really good cook.”

“Sí.”

“James.” Her hands guide my face away from her body. “Talk to me.” Lauren runs her thumb against my stubbled cheek.

“Why are you calling me James?”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“But everyone calls me Hart.” Her eyes search mine. I hope she can see how much I want this. How much I want her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be like everyone else.”

"What do you want to be, cariño?" My hands seek out the bare skin on her back. I slowly run my calloused fingers along the edge of the elastic band of her bra.

Lauren squirms and rubs her thighs together. “More.” Her words are a breath of air. Lauren’s lips ghost over mine. The word is simple, but it has the power of a tsunami powering through every limb. “I want to be more to you.”

“And if you are more to me, than what am I to you?” I hate how vulnerable I sound.

“Home. You’re my home, James.” Lauren’s hands explore my face, my neck, my shoulders. It’s a slow, torturous pursuit that lights up every nerve ending in my body. “You’re where I belong.” Her words make my body tremor.

My lips start a quest up and down her neck. Licking, kissing, and sucking. “Are we doing this, cariño? You and me.”

“Yes,” she whispers and fuck me if that isn’t the sweetest sound. My cock fights to get past the zipper of my jeans. “Is that what you are worried about? That I wasn’t in this with you?” Lauren’s eyes are greener tonight, but the ring of gold in the center glows.

I blow out a shallow breath. “I didn’t like how friendly Marco was with you. He was too relaxed and too pleased to be in your presence. It made me wonder if that’s what you do.”

“What?”

"Put a spell on those around you, brujita. Make people like you and fall for your charms. I felt it the first night. I thought it was just for me, but now…" I shrug.

“I’m not interested in Enzo, Marco or any other guy for that matter.”

“Okay, cariño.”

“You almost sound convinced. You said you would show me that you’re someone I can count on.”

“Sí. I did. I meant it." I kiss her now. I’ve been dying to kiss her again since I did it earlier tonight. Nothing is sweeter than the taste of Lauren’s lips.

My thumb is wet and I realize Lauren is crying. “Lauren? What’s wrong, cariño? No llores mi amor." Don’t cry my sweetheart. I cradle her in my arms.

“You make me want things I’ve never wanted before. Not just physically.” My eyes widen at her honesty. I try to ignore the hundreds of ways I want to please her with the touch of my hand. My tongue. My cock. It isn’t easy, but I know there is more to her confession.

“I want this with you. I want all of it. That is a scary request for someone with my past. A home. A place to belong. It’s all I ever wanted. But I was never enough to keep it. To put that trust in you isn’t easy, but I want to.” She lets out a shaky breath.

“People don’t stay for me.” My heart fractures for this woman. I hate that she has been through all that shit.

“I will. I will stay. I’m not leaving, cariño.”

“Aren’t you though? Newhouse was supposed to be a clean slate. I changed…” She closes her eyes and bites down on her lip. “I didn’t come to Alabama for this.” Lauren waves a hand between the two of us. Well, that’s too damn bad. “I don’t know where I’m going to be after I graduate any more than you do.”

I drop my head closer to hers. “I know exactly where you will be, cariño. Next to me. Voy a donde tú vayas.”

“You can’t say things like that, Hart. Your future is up in the air even more than mine. You have no idea what team you will end up playing for. You could be drafted for some team across the country.”

“Then you go where I go.”

“I’m not going to do that,” she says quietly. “You will get tired of me, and then what?” I laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s funny that you think I could ever get tired of you. It’s funny that you think I could ever walk away from you.”

“Everyone else has.”

“Sí Cariño, you’ve been pushed aside, overlooked, left behind your entire life. For some reason, people find it easy to let you go. You’re not the easy out to me, cariño. You are not someone I will ever leave behind. That’s why you were made pint-size. I can take you everywhere I go.“ I hug her as she rolls her eyes.

“I want to believe you, but I’m a realist, Hart.”

“I like it when you call me James.”

“Okay, James. What will happen when you get drafted to a team in New York or California or Canada?" Her hand flies around as if she is pointing to each state or country on a map.

“I am not going to Canada." She levels me with a look. “I’m serious. My mamá will not allow me to go to Canada under any circumstance. Let’s not worry about what we don’t know. We’re together now. Stay with me tonight." I press down on her twitching eyebrow. Mi amor is always thinking too hard. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Lauren kisses me and says, “Please don’t,” against my lips. A possessive growl escapes my mouth. My hand goes to the back of her head as my lips and tongue tangle with hers.

I pick her up and flip her onto my bed. Lauren breaks the kiss long enough to pull her shirt over her head. “Brujita,” I groan. Lauren’s breasts spill over the cups of her bra tempting me.

“Your turn,” she tells me, pulling up my shirt, stroking my abs with her nimble fingers. I grab the neck of the shirt at my back and pull it over my head in one movement.

Lauren licks her lips, and her eyes fill with desire. I love that she doesn’t hide her attraction to me. Lauren is anything but coy. She may be inexperienced, but she knows what she wants.

I lay down and line our bodies up. One of my thighs nestled between hers. My cock aches against her side. When she grinds against my leg, I let out a strained curse.

I kiss, lick, and bite between her breasts, pulling down the straps of her bra as I go. Lauren’s quiet whimpers and moans embolden me. I unhook the clasp in the back of her bra and remove the lacey contraption completely. Throwing it on the floor with my shirt.

Feeling Lauren’s silky skin against mine as we kiss is intoxicating. An addiction is forming without my consent. Not that I would stop it. I’ve already craved her presence around me. Now my need to touch her will be incessant.

Lauren reaches for the buttons on my jeans, but I stop her. Why? I don’t know. I want her to touch me. God, do I want her to touch me. I’m afraid it would be too much, too fast. My cock has only known my hand.

“Please, James.”

“You want to touch my cock, cariño?”

“Yes.” She palms me over my jeans. I suck a breath in through my teeth and swallow a groan. Many have tried, but no one has ever been this close to me. Her hand on me feels too good and she hasn’t really touched me yet.

“Mierda. Sí, cariño. Sí.” I’m practically begging her now. Lauren deftly unbuttons and unzips my jeans. I wiggle them off my hips and kick them off my legs. “Wait.” Her eyebrows scrunch together questioning me. “You first. Let me make you come on my fingers.” Lauren dips her chin. “Words. I need your words.”

“Okay. Yes, please James.” I kiss her while I give her pants the same treatment she gave mine. Lauren tries to help me remove them hastily, but I wave her off. I want to savor this moment.

“Let me.” I maneuver around the bed on my knees until I reach the perfect angle to peel her pants off her body. I kiss down her toned legs as more skin is revealed. “You're beautiful,” I say and kiss another freckle.

She doesn’t have many. Just a few here and there. I plan on finding each and every one of them before I’m done.

Her dark hair is splayed across my pillow. It will smell like her tomorrow. Coconut and sunshine. Her lips are plump from kissing. Her breasts are red with a beard burn from my cheeks.

I kiss and nip my way back up her leg, skipping over where she needs me most. Lauren’s chest heaves and she begins panting. “James.” Her nails scratch and scrape at my sides.

I hesitate a moment before I dip my hand into her underwear, and I curse when I realize how tight and wet she is for me. “Matándome, cariño.“ She’s killing me here.

“Tell me what feels good. I need to know what you like.” I’m trying my best to be confident. All I want to do is please her, but I haven’t done this before. I’ve listened to enough stories in the locker room to pick up pointers. It doesn’t compare to this.

All of her little noises. The way she grips my bicep when I hit a certain spot. “Don’t stop.” Lauren cups my cheek and kisses me with fervor as I move my fingers in and out of her pussy and tease her clit. I can tell she’s getting closer when her hips start moving and grinding against my hand.

I can’t take my eyes off her flushed cheeks and the way she bites her lip. Her fingers comb through my hair. When her eyes find mine something she sees sets her off and she comes with my name on her lips.

Her body quakes and I continue to massage her as she rides out her orgasm. I remove my fingers and lick them clean. “So sweet.”

“Jesus, Hart. That’s hot.” I lay on my side and pull her against me. Lauren kisses my chest and up my neck.

“My turn,” she says and dips her hand into my boxers and pulls out my cock. Every muscle in my body tenses when her thumb runs over the head. Using the pre-come as lubricant she starts stroking me gently. “Relax James. Let me take care of you.” Her words strike me like lightning.

I force my body to calm down and enjoy her hand gliding over my cock. “Tighter,” I grit out. “You won’t hurt me.” She adds more pressure and fuck me. “Your hand feels so good wrapped around my cock, cariño.”

I drag her leg over mine. Even with her underwear on I can feel her wet, hot pussy pressed against my thigh. Lauren rubs herself against me as she strokes my dick. The act makes my spine lock.

Watching her hand move up and down my cock, her pupils dilate, and she rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. Lauren’s tongue pokes out from her mouth and she licks her lips hungrily.

I like watching her in this state. Turned on and desperate. Leaning down, I kiss Laurens collar bone, up her neck, behind her ear. Anywhere I can reach.

It seems to spur her on. She increases her speed and strangles my cock with her delicate fingers. “No te detengas. Me encanta la forma en que me tocas, cariño.” It has never felt this good before.

Gripping the back of Lauren’s head, I pull her closer to me. “Bésame.“ I angle her head up and slam my mouth on hers. My vision goes black and cum spurts all over my stomach.

Lauren’s hand doesn’t stop moving until I’m completely spent, and I crash my head against my pillow. I drape an arm over my eyes and attempt to calm my racing heart.

Her hand touches my upper thigh, and my dick moves, ready for more. I feel her hair tickle my chest. Then something wet laps against my stomach.

I take a peek from under my forearm. Fuck me. I sit up on my elbows completely enthralled in the way Lauren is licking the cum off my abs.

“What?” She looks up at me with doe eyes. “It’s only fair I get a taste too.” I press my lips against hers and slip my tongue inside her mouth. I have to taste myself on her.

“Eres una brujita malvada," I say before getting up, grabbing a new pair of underwear, and going to the bathroom to clean myself up.

Lauren is gathering her clothes when I come back into the room. “Where do you think you’re going?” I take the clothes out of her hands and place them on top of my dresser.

She huffs in frustration and crosses her arms over her bare stomach. “Home.”

I tsk her. “You are home, remember?” A shy smile covers her face. I open the second drawer of my dresser and pull out a tee shirt for her to sleep in.

“You said you'd stay with me tonight.” I hand over the shirt as an invitation. Her eyebrow twitches as she stares at it. “Don’t leave me.” It’s a low blow on my part. I never claimed to play fair. I will do whatever it takes to hold Lauren all night while she sleeps.

My words must have hit their mark because Lauren shakes the shirt loose and slips her arms and head through the holes.

“I look ridiculous. You gave me a circus tent to sleep in.” Lauren lifts her arms to demonstrate how her body is swimming my shirt. I just see mine.

“You look cute. Get into bed.” I smack her butt.

“Let me text Syd first. God, she’s going to give me so much crap tomorrow.” Lauren frowns at her phone as she texts.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Her cheeks pink and her lips roll inward hiding their plushness. Lauren knows exactly how I plan on getting back in her good graces. Not that I think for a second, she is actually upset with me.

Once she texts Syd, I show her the bathroom and give her a spare toothbrush. Glancing at her one more time in the mirror, I leave and let her have some privacy to do what she needs to and wait for her in my room.

I’m staring at the ceiling when the door clicks shut. Lauren’s hair is tied in a knot on the top of her head. Her face is scrubbed free of makeup. Not that she wears a lot of it anyway.

She tucks something into her clothes I left on my dresser. Then walks to the opposite side of the bed and slides under the covers. She’s as far away from me as humanly possible.

“Don’t be shy now. I didn’t ask you stay the night to have you sleep on the other side of the bed.” I scooch toward the middle of the mattress then reach out for Lauren. My arm snakes behind her back and I cradle her against my chest.

Lauren melts into my skin. Her lips press into my ribcage. It is soft and sweet but has the power of a jackhammer cracking open the heart beneath the surface.

“What happened to your biological dad?” The question comes out of left field but then I remember I promised to tell her before I became an insecure and jealous asshole.

“He left. Started a new family.” Lauren’s fingers trace the tattoos on my chest.

“When?”

“I think I was nine or ten the last time I saw him.”

“But your mom and dad have been together since you were little.” I glare down at her.

“How do you know?”

“Your mom may have showed me some pictures.” Shit. “She’s really proud of you.” Lauren lifts her head. I hate it. I want her to lay down and never leave. “You were so cute.”

“I’m never leaving you alone with her again,” I grumble. Lauren giggles. “My biological father was never committed to my mom. He was married to baseball.”

“He played too?”

“He tried. He had a good run in the minor league but never got called up. James Jackson wasn’t stable enough for the majors. He loved the lifestyle more than he loved the game.

“I think he thought I was a mistake, a problem from the beginning.” I take Lauren’s hand in mine and intertwine our fingers. “He looked at me like I was a burden. And when he discovered I couldn’t talk, he became cruel.

“Dad, Stephen,” I add so she knows who I’m talking about. “He gave James an ultimatum. Either love me unconditionally or leave. He left.”

“Fucking asshole,” Lauren murmurs with vitriol. It makes me fall for her even more.

“It was for the best. James would show up at my little league games making a scene. Dad had enough. He may not look like it with his Clark Kent glasses and khaki pants, but he is protective as fuck. Especially over his family.”

“I’m happy you have him.” Her voice is laced with an emotion I can’t figure out. Sadness? Loneliness? Neither one works for me.

“What are you thinking about?” Lauren’s warm breath tickles my skin as she exhales.

“How similar we are. Absentee fathers. Feeling like we have to prove ourselves to get love. Not wanting to talk. Our reasons may be different, but the outcome is the same.” She squeezes my hand and my lungs simultaneously. I’m finding it hard to breathe as she lists off all our similarities. Lauren is essentially making a case why she is meant to be mine without realizing it.

Lauren snuggles deeper into my side. “I won’t call you James if you don’t want me to. I get it now.”

“I like it coming from your lips, brujita.“ I kiss those lips I’m always desperate for.

“If you say so.”

“I do. Now turn around for me.” Her eyebrows raise. “Por favor. Necesito sentirte cerca de mi." Lauren rolls over and I pull her backside flush against me. “Fuiste hecha para mí, cariño,” I whisper over the top of her head.

My fingers slip under her shirt, my shirt, and caress her rib cage as she slowly drifts off to sleep.

“Please don’t leave me behind,” Lauren says sleepily, as she burrows herself deeper against my body.

“Never, cariño." I kiss her goodnight one more time on the back of her head.

17

LAUREN

Sydney is practically skipping through the stadium as she leads me past the concessions and toward our seats by the field. Hart said we could sit wherever we want as long as we are in the front row near the home team dugout.

I’m glad Syd seems to know where to go. If it wasn’t for her, I would be lost somewhere in one of the tunnels. This is the first time I’ve ever been in a complex this big.

Competitive sports were a luxury growing up. Uniforms and equipment cost money we didn’t have. Even when my mom was alive, I went to dance class with thrifted shoes and leotards. Classes were paid by way of bartering and favors.

There are two empty seats in the front row as if they were saved for us. I’m surprised by the amount of people here just to watch a practice. There are a couple of men in polo shirts holding clipboards in seats behind home plate. They seem important. Hart had mentioned scouts have started sniffing around practices and scrimmages.

I wonder if he’s nervous. I want the teams to be interested in drafting him. Even if it means he’ll be leaving Alabama. The thought alone threatens to pierce a hole in my heart.

I’m getting attached. It's obvious that whatever started as a ‘get to know you’ assignment is now something much more. It was never about the assignment with us.

When I’m with him it feels right.

The first time I met Hart was move-in day Freshman year. He was a silent, storm cloud moving Sydney into our dorm room. He gave me a cursory glance when I said hello and went back to whatever he was doing.

I’ve been dismissed all my life. I didn’t think twice about it. I was trying to be nice because he was friends with Sydney, and I wanted to make a good impression. That was the last time I ever spoke to Hart.

Three years later, all it takes is to stand next to him for a few minutes and a car ride home for him to wiggle his way under my skin.

Self-preservation cautions me to hold back and not let him get any closer. Hart is leaving. Even if he gets drafted by Alabama, their minor league team is in Kentucky. Not exactly convenient for a new relationship.

Moving is out of the question for me. Not now. I can’t leave Carlos, Manny, and the rest of my family. Family. That’s what they are to me. It’s something I’ve always wanted. They need me. And I need them.

“I have been waiting for this all day. I couldn’t get out of my last lab fast enough.” Syd bounces in her seat waiting for the rest of the team to come out of the dugout.

“It will probably be boring.” She slices me with sharp eyes. “What? It’s not like we’re going to an amusement park or something fun.”

“Aren’t we, though? Look at all those rides, Lo!” She nods toward the field where several guys on the team are stretching out their quads and hamstrings. “It’s like fantasy land out there. That guy is like Splash Mountain. He comes with a will get wet warning.”

“Oh my god Sydney!” I start cackling and slap her playfully.

“That ride over there,” she points to another player on the field, “I bet he goes up and down.”

“Stahhhp. My stomach is starting to hurt,” I say, wiping tears from my eyes.

“You know what else is going to hurt?” I don’t even bother answering her. “It definitely wouldn’t be like Tommy from freshman year.” She shudders at the memory.

“That was like sticking a Ticonderoga up my vag. But Splash Mountain…” Syd reaches into her bag and pulls out binoculars. “Would make it hurt so good.”

I’m bent over laughing, wheezing. “Ticonderoga. That makes me sad for you.”

“I can see that.” She side-eyes me. “You look really torn up about it, Lo.” Syd sighs.

“Tears.” I point to my eyes.

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s not going to like you checking out his teammates,” I mention once I’ve gotten over my fit of laughter. Sydney lifts her shoulder, pretending not to care, and continues to watch the guys stretch out in foul territory.

“Yeah, well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” There’s a hint of bitterness in her voice. I want to remind her that he is an idiot for keeping his distance.

Syd licks her lips and groans beside me. “Let me see.” I snatch the binoculars from her. “That can’t be real. It’s stuffed, right? Or a cup or something?”

“I don’t think so. I guess it’s possible he’s all balls.” I sputter a laugh.

“That would be a damn shame.”

“Says the virgin.”

“Better a virgin than a backroom romp with pencil dick,” I throw back at her. Syd takes the binoculars from me.

“That is definitely his real dick.”

“As opposed to a rubber one he stuffs in his pants? He is wearing black pants. You can’t really see anything. And he has on a cup.” I gesture toward the field with my arm.

“How do you know that?”

“How do you know he isn’t? Are you like a CSI of penises all of a sudden?”

“Brujita,” Hart growls. Suddenly appearing next to the entrance of the dugout. I practically jump out of my seat. My heart is beating so fast.

“Damn it, Hart! You didn’t have to scare us like that,” Syd sneers and goes back to her guy watching. She is going to make this a new hobby. Next week she will have a notebook to keep track of all her rare sightings.

Hart grabs the rail with one hand and hurdles himself over the barrier wall. He’s in a sleeveless practice T-shirt that shows off his obliques and baseball pants. His baseball cap sits low over his brow. The holy trinity.

Some may argue that sweatpants reign supreme. I would agree that universally sweatpants, grey in particular, look good on all shapes and, ahem, sizes.

But I’ve seen Hart in both, and nothing beats the view in front of me right now. You can fight me all you want. I will die on this mountain.

“James,” I whisper back at him. His eyes shutter closed, and he bites down on his lower lip. “You are going to get yourself in trouble. You better go practice.” He flips his hat around. The move is so effortless you would think he practices it daily in the mirror. Bending over my seat, he boxes me in with tattooed forearms.

“I’m already in trouble, brujita." His eyes do a slow stroll down my body, then whip to Sydney and her binoculars briefly. “Behave yourselves,” he says darkly.

“Of course, I’ll behave. I’ve got to get some good material for my assignment,” I say to tease him. Instead, pain flashes in Hart’s eyes. It’s gone in a blink. I hate myself for it because I’m not here for that.

I’m here for him. I’m here because he asked me to come. I’m here because it hurts to not be in his presence. I lean forward and press my lips to his. “Go play with your bats and balls.” Sydney snickers beside me.

Hart tries to smother a smile. “Wait for me after,” he demands. Then places a lingering kiss on the top of my head before hopping back over the barrier wall.

Hart enters the dugout and appears a few minutes later with a bat in his hand. Koa and Wyatt walk out by his side. They push and shove each other goofing off.

Wyatt takes his spot on the mound, and Koa squats behind home plate. Hart swings his bat around a few times while Wyatt warms up his throwing arm by tossing the ball back and forth with Koa.

“How does he do that?” Syd asks. I follow her eyes to where she’s staring on the field. Koa is going from a squat to a half-split after every throw from Wyatt.

“Lots of practice and stretching,” I answer with a shrug. Syd makes a non-committal grunt.

Hart steps into the batter’s box, and I snag the binoculars from Sydney. “I need to have a good look for my report,” I say in response to her laughter.

Hart is the epitome of power with a bat in his hand. The muscles in his forearms flex as he adjusts his grip on the bat. His eyes are focused on Wyatt as he winds up his pitch.

Wyatt throws the ball so fast I can’t track it. Hart swings and connects the bat with the ball sending it flying to the outfield. They continue to do this over and over until another one of Hart’s teammates takes his place.

Hart moves to his spot between third and second base. I think he said he played shortstop, so I guess that’s where that position is. I have no idea. Carlos, Manny, and Hart tried to teach me basic rules and lingo yesterday, but it was a lot of information.

“I take it back. This is not as boring as I thought it would be. Did you ever go to their games in high school? Nash played, right?”

“I went to a few. I had a life of my own, you know. Nash played his freshman and sophomore year. His football coach made him quit after his sophomore season if he wanted to be the starting QB.”

“Why?”

“I guess he felt he needed to pick a sport and be the best at it to win games and get a scholarship. His coach was right because he’s here on a full ride.”

“Have you talked to him since he’s been starting? I sent him a text, but he didn’t tell me much.” Newhouse has been winning games, but no thanks to Nash. His nerves are getting the best of him, and he isn’t playing up to his potential.

“Not really. He’s too caught up in the pressure right now. He’s in his head. You can’t talk to Nash when he’s like this.”

“Is Matt still helping him?”

“How can you even mention that losers name?”

“Because he’s irrelevant to me. Matt’s the kind of guy who believes his good looks give him a free pass.” I’m sure there are girls who are cool with his aggressive approach. They are happy to be on the receiving end of his affection. I was at first. I’d never been flirted with like that before.

But then I realized that a dirty couch at a frat party was not where I wanted to have my first kiss. Matt got angry when I rejected him. He called me a tease. Maybe I was. I didn't waste time thinking about it. I fought him off and ran back to Sydney.

“Did Hart tell you what happened in the cafeteria last week?”

“He didn’t,” I answer, looking at the man in question. Hart easily fields the ball and throws it to first base. He did seem edgy when he came with me to dance practice last Thursday, but he didn’t mention anything about Matt.

“I went to grab a piece of chocolate cake and ran into Hart and Koa.”

“You do love your chocolate cake.” Syd narrows her eyes at my insinuation.

“Rude. As I was saying. I went to get a piece of cake. We were making plans for a game night when Nash and Matt showed up. Matt heard your name, and the next thing I know, I’m telling him you’re Hart’s girlfriend, and the guys are in his face. Hart threatened him and everything.”

“That. Is a lot to unpack." Hart makes a diving catch and flicks the ball to second base. Our eyes snare on each other. He gives me a quick smirk. I roll my eyes. Yeah, yeah, you look hot out there throwing the ball around. “What did Hart say when you said I was his girlfriend.”

“What do you think?”

“Nothing.”

“Got it in one. But that’s Hart for you.”

“He wouldn’t deny it in front of Matt,” I remind her. I clock Syd staring at me in my peripheral. “What?”

“I don’t think Hart would deny it, period. You should have seen how feral he was telling Matt to leave you alone. It was hot. It could have been a scene in one of my books.”

“He shouldn’t have done that. Matt is harmless.”

“Matt should shut his mouth.”

“Do I want to know?”

“It wasn’t bad. He said he liked your fighting spirit.” I scoff.

“I bet he does.” The guys move around on the field. I’ve lost track of Hart. “Game night?” I ask.

“Hart suggested spending more time with Koa and Wyatt to get to know his friends. I guess Koa is a little unsure about your intentions.” Why is everyone so worried about Hart? What do they think I’m capable of?

“I offered to host a game night at the dorm.”

“You’re cool with that?”

“Koa is my friend. He is Nash’s friend. Something I am reminded of daily. That won’t ever change. So yes. I’m cool with hanging out with him. I might even invite Seth.”

“Are you sure that is a good idea?”

“Lo, I’m moving on. If Koa, can’t handle it, he can damn well do something about it.” Okay then.

“Game night should be interesting in more ways than one. Sign me up.” I smile at her.

However, the idea of getting to know Hart’s friends makes me itch. I’ve just gotten used to opening up to him. It’s just more people with more questions that I won’t want to answer. I still need to tell Sydney everything. Hart has been encouraging me to do it, but I don’t want our relationship to change.

I like Sydney knowing the independent woman who showed up at Newhouse three years ago. Not the sad and lonely girl who didn’t have anything but bad memories.

“Can we talk about you calling him James?”

“It’s his name.”

“Yeah, but I can’t remember the last time anyone ever called him James without Hart wanting to punch them. He really likes you, Lauren.”

“You can’t know that just from a name.”

“Can’t I? Hart doesn’t let anyone get close to him. Not since elementary school.” Sydney doesn’t explain further. She doesn’t have to. I know why Hart closed himself off to anyone except his true friends.

It still doesn’t explain why he’s included me in the mix. Except for the fact he doesn’t have a choice. He needs me to pass Morelli’s class. I gave him the option to do the questionnaire instead of spending time together. Although that was more for my benefit than his.

“You have accomplished the impossible,” Sydney says interrupting my thoughts. “You have bagged the elusive James Hart. Do you know how many girls have tried to get his attention over the years?” Yes. Yes, I do. I’ve witnessed girls on multiple occasions trying to talk to Hart or get him to glance in their direction.

“I haven’t bagged him Syd. That sounds icky. We’re friends.”

“Why are you downplaying what the two of you have?”

“Why are you getting so angry over it?”

“I’m not.” She crosses her arms over her chest. I hook my arm through hers and rest my head on her shoulder.

“I really like him Syd. He keeps telling me not to worry about tomorrow, but it’s all I seem to be doing. What if I’m just a good time until he gets drafted? You’ve said it yourself. Hart is elusive and impossible to catch. I’m not any different from the other girls that go to this school.” Sydney lays her head on mine.

“Look at him. Do you see his face?” Hart’s brow is furrowed, and his head is tilted to the side like he’s trying to figure out something. “As soon as you cuddled with me, he stopped moving. He’s worried about you right now.”

Hart clenches the baseball in his hand. Every player on the field is waiting for him to throw the ball and continue the play. I don’t know if I want to vanish into thin air or run to him and reassure him that I’m fine.

Wyatt catches Hart’s arm when he begins to walk across the field. That makes me straighten my back. Wyatt points to me and says something to him. Whatever Wyatt says seems to placate Hart. He tosses the ball to Wyatt, and they run the play again.

“That man cares about you. Deny it all you want, but it’s obvious to me. I agree with Hart. Don’t think about what happens next. You are both here now. You’ll never regret falling in love even if it breaks your heart.”

“Spoken like someone with experience.” I hug her arm.

“Unfortunately. And look at me still encouraging you to go for it.” Her eyes drift in Koa’s direction behind home plate. “Do you two have plans for after practice?”

“He’s coming over to eat and do homework.”

“That sounds…not exciting at all.” Sydney couldn’t be more wrong. Everything with Hart is exciting. A car ride. A walk across campus. Cooking dinner. Watching a movie. Doing homework.

“You’d be surprised,” I singsong. Sydney giggles. I focus on Hart again. I really should pay more attention if I plan on writing about him and baseball.

The guys are throwing balls around like it’s part of a synchronized dance routine. Occasionally, they switch positions to cover a base for another player. To my untrained eye, they look like they can manage to win a few games. Hart would remind me that they are a champion team and will win more than a few. The thought makes me smile.

“Sweet lord in the heavens,” Syd swears and pulls out her binoculars again to get a closer look. A few of the guys have taken their shirts off and are using them as towels to wipe the sweat off their bodies. “I did something right in my life to earn this reward.”

Hart isn’t one of them. Something I’m oddly grateful for. The idea of all these girls in the stands seeing him with his shirt off makes me unstable. I’ve never been jealous over a guy but there is a first time for everything.

He does lift the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, giving me a free peek of his lower abdominal muscles and the dusting of dark hair leading below the belt of his pants. Muscles that I’ve kissed and explored with my tongue.

The coach claps his hands, breaking me and Sydney out of our trance, but not before Hart catches me staring. I throw him a look that says, ‘what did you expect?’

He looks back at me with a boyish grin. It’s a reminder that while he’s confident, he’s still as inexperienced as I am. It’s something I find endearing and makes me like him even more.

Damn it. I’m falling for him and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“Same time next week?” Syd asks. I stand up to stretch. My thighs are slick with sweat from sitting so long in the heat. I brush a few stray hairs off my face that have escaped from my ponytail.

“Maybe.” I don’t want to assume Hart wants me here all the time.

“Are you going to stand there and tell me you don’t want to watch this again?”

“No, but I don’t want to cramp his style.” Sydney nods in understanding.

“Well, if you do come to another practice, you don’t have to come alone.” Syd’s eyes drift to the dugout where Koa, Hart, and Wyatt are exiting. “I’m going to get out of here. Are you good getting a ride with Hart?”

I nod and hug her goodbye. Sydney is out of sight just in time. She claims she's okay being his friend but it's obvious she's avoiding him when she can.

“Where is she off to?” Koa snaps. Hart growls at him. “Sorry man.” Hart nods at me. “Sorry Lauren,” he says properly scolded for speaking to me in a harsh tone. My heart does a little flutter.

“Syd had to take care of something, but you should come over for dinner.” Syd is going to kill me. “Wyatt, you can come too if you want.” Wyatt lifts his eyes off his phone for a moment to look at me and then Hart.

“Maybe next time, Lo. If you want to send food home with Hart, I won’t be mad at ya for it,” he tells me with a smile.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m going to give Lauren a tour. See you guys later.” They say their goodbyes. Koa never confirmed if he was going to come over and eat with us.

I send Sydney a warning text just in case. She replies with a gif of an actress slicing her finger across the base of her neck and mouthing ‘you’re dead to me.’ I text back, telling her how much I love her too.

Hart drops the large bag that’s been hanging off his shoulder to the ground. “Come here, cariño.”

I walk to the barrier wall where Hart is holding his arms out toward me. Bending down I put a hand on each one of his shoulders. He hooks his hands under my breasts. His thumb grazes over the sensitive flesh sending shivers through me. “Jump.”

I do, and he easily flings me over the side. Hart is sweaty and warm from practice, but it doesn’t bother me. I love the way he smells. A mix of his deodorant or body wash, the outside air, and him.

I cling to him and hide my face in the crook of his neck. His grip slides to my butt, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist.

“Did you enjoy yourself, brujita?” I pretend to think about my answer. His hands flex in the pockets of my jean shorts.

“Very much.” Hart grins and the sight makes my insides riot. I take his hat off his head, smooth down his hair, and then flip the cap backward. Grabbing his face, I say, “I see why everyone wants you so badly.” I claim his lips with mine before giving him a chance to decipher what I’m really saying. I want you too. Hart growls against my mouth before ending the kiss when a couple of his teammates pass by us.

My legs fall from his waist, and I glide down his body feeling every hard inch of him. Hart rolls his lips and grinds his molars when I push against him, making me laugh. “I don’t think this is very funny.” He looms over me and nips at my ear. “Just being near you makes me lose my mind.” Hart mumbles something in Spanish I can’t quite figure out, but I think I heard a curse word or two.

Hart reluctantly puts some distance between us but keeps me cradled under his arm. He leaves his gear on the field and leads us toward the dugout. “Let me show you around,” he says before readjusting himself in his pants. The motion has me staring and biting down on my bottom lip. Hart growls and tugs on my ponytail. “Brujita, behave.”

It’s physically impossible for me to be good around him anymore. When I was a little girl, my mom warned me about being obsessed or infatuated with a man.

My father, whoever he is, hurt her. She loved him and he left her. He didn’t love her enough to stay. He didn’t love me enough either.

This is another reason I’ve avoided romantic relationships through high school and even college. Her words have always floated around in the recesses of my mind.

My mom never dated after my father left. I don’t know if she was afraid to or if she was foolishly holding out hope that he would change his mind and come back.

There is nothing I can do about it now. I can’t rewrite the past, but I can try to appreciate the present. It doesn’t stop me from wondering what my mom would say about Hart.

Would she encourage me to go for it?

Or would she warn me to slow down?

Being in the dugout brings a new perspective to the game Hart loves so much. You can see the entire field from here. There is a distinct smell of leather and fresh cut grass mixed with earthy dirt. It reminds me of hot summer days playing on the playground when I was little.

Hart shows me where he usually sits during the game and where he keeps his gear. Then he makes his way back to the field and picks up his bag. “I want to show you inside.” He bobs his head toward their training facility.

“Are you sure I can go in here?” I ask as we walk across the street. Hart makes a pit stop at his car to drop off his bag.

He doesn’t answer me. His hand slips into mine, weaving our fingers together. It isn’t the first time we’ve held hands, but it feels different this time. Sometimes I think he holds my hand so I don’t get lost. Today it feels like a claiming. As if to tell everyone we pass by that I’m his girl.

We enter the facility through the rear doors closest to the stadium. The building is massive. Hart shows me where they have indoor batting practice, their weight room, a meeting room, and even a lounge area complete with air hockey and foosball.

“Spoiled much?” I tease. His mouth ticks up in a soft smile while holding open the door to a locker room unlike any I’ve ever seen before. I imagined my high school gym locker room. Dented metal lockers and all.

Their room has an open floorplan with a horseshoe of open lockers. They look more like miniature closets lining the walls. Each player has a space, personalized with their last name and number, to hang jerseys and practice shirts, a small safe to lock up personal items, a cabinet to store pants or whatever they want, and a compartment at the bottom for shoes.

I walk around the room until I find Hart’s name. He has a few practice shirts and jerseys hanging on a tension rod. There is a pair of cleats and a spare glove on the bottom shelf. “Is this you, Wyatt, Koa, and Nash?” I point to the one photo he has taped to the wall.

“Sí. We were ten or eleven, I think.”

“You were a little gordito, weren’t you?” I rub a finger over his chubby cheeks and pot belly. He was the shortest one of the group too. Now he is one of the tallest. Maybe an inch shorter than Wyatt who towers over everyone.

“Be nice, brujita." I smile and lean my head on his shoulder. This photo was taken when life was hard, and kids were cruel to him. I can’t hug that little boy, but I can wrap my arms around the man beside me.

I prop my chin on his chest and look up at him. “You should be really proud of yourself, James.” He holds me as if trying to transfer his emotions to me. His chin rests on the top of my head. Hart’s shoulders relax, and his breathing slows. I wish I knew what he’s thinking about.

When he pulls away, we stare at each other, saying nothing but feeling way too much. Hart brushes a thumb over my lips while cupping my cheek. We move towards each other in unison.

His lips skim over mine. I feel his smile against my skin before he picks me up and carries me toward the exit. I start to giggle but freeze when he presses me against the closed door, claiming my lips again.

“Lauren,” Hart says my name like he’s aching for me. Like it physically pains him that he can’t get closer to me. I feel it too. Every time he touches me it’s like starting a wildfire. Hart rolls my body against his. The action makes me whimper.

Laughter from the hallway cools us down. “Vamos. I want to show you the view from the field before we go home.” Home. The word rattles around against my rib cage.

I let Hart tow me out of the locker room, past the dugout, and onto the field. I don’t stop walking until I reach the same spot I saw Hart stand in earlier during practice.

I feel tiny. I mean, I always feel short, but looking out into the stands makes me feel even smaller. I can imagine the seats full of people, cheering him on.

“Is this your favorite view?” I ask.

“Used to be.” Now it’s you, is what he means. His words make my heart skip. I’m not used to someone saying such sweet things to me. There’s never been a man who looked at me like Hart does. Like he loves me. I clear the thought out of my head.

“Do you ever get nervous in front of the crowd?”

“Do you?” He throws back. I shake my head. Sometimes I get nervous when there is a lot of money on the line. Once I step out on the dance floor, nothing matters except me and the music. I imagine it’s the same for Hart.

“I can’t believe you will be playing baseball professionally. You get to do what you love and get paid for it.”

“If I got paid to do what I love, cariño, I would get paid for spending time with you.”

“You like spending time with me, huh? I’m afraid I don’t have the same salary cap as a professional baseball team.” I try to make light of his words, but they have already sunk so deep into my skin I’m afraid I will never be able to remove them.

His hands slide over my forehead, down my cheeks, over my lips. Those same hands brush over my shoulders and down my back until they land on my butt cheeks. He jerks me close.

“I love spending time with you. More than I should.” More than he should. What does that mean? “It means that you consume me.” He answers the question I thought I asked silently in my head. “I should be focused on baseball. On my career. But it is an impossible task now that I have you.”

“Oh.” I attempt to wiggle out of his hold, but Hart only grips me harder. “We don’t have to hang out tonight if you need to do baseball stuff. We turned in our assignment and I have enough information now to finish my other story. What about you? Do you have enough?”

“No.”

“No? Okay, well what else do you need?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, mi brujita.” His eyes are dark and shine with desire. “You. I need more of you. I will always need more of you. We are going to go eat and we’re going to talk. Then I’m going to hold you until you fall asleep. And even then, it will not be enough.”

18

HART

“What did Coach want?” Koa asks me as soon as I enter the locker room to pack up my gear. Everyone else has cleared out. He should have left too.

“Interviews. He wants me to do media training with a specialist.” It’s difficult to hide my irritation.

“You knew this was coming. He’s mentioned it before.”

“I know.” I was hoping I would magically get over this fear I have with public speaking, and it would be a non-issue. But I haven’t. I still lock up anytime I’m asked a direct question in interviews. My short one- or two-word answers apparently aren’t good enough anymore.

I understand Coach’s point. If all goes well, I’m going to be a key player on a major league team. I will have to talk to the press. I can’t stare blankly at the camera and expect them to leave me alone.

“You have time,” he says as we walk toward the parking lot.

“I thought I did. The Newhouse media team is putting together press packages on each player.”

“That’s new.” I nod. It is new. We only have ourselves to blame. Now that we’re the defending champs, the school wants to capitalize on that.

I scowl when a trio of girls try to approach us, making Koa laugh. “Did you want to talk to them?” I ask, knowing his answer.

“Nah. I’m focusing on classes and baseball.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”

“Yes, asshole. That’s what I’m doing,” he says as if he’s trying to convince himself more than me. “You think I’m not?”

“I don’t think anything.” I lie. I have lots of thoughts about what’s going on between Sydney and Koa, but I’m keeping them to myself. Nash has been preaching that Syd is off limits since middle school. It doesn’t matter what Koa and Sydney want. They can’t happen.

I’m suddenly grateful I don’t have brothers putting the brakes on me and Lauren. Who am I kidding? Brothers or not, nothing could keep me away from her at this point.

I flip my keys in my hand and trigger the lock. I pop the trunk open and throw my gear in the back. “You heading home?” I ask, slamming the trunk closed.

Koa shakes his head. “The Round Table. I’ve got a study group for one of my government classes.” Koa stretches his arms over the roof of his car. “What about you? Are you going over to Lo’s?”

He knows I am. Lauren and I have been hanging out every day for the last few weeks. When she’s not working at Ray’s, or I’m not at practice, we’ve been together. I tag along with her to rehearsals, and she’s been coming with me to my parent’s house every week.

I think that’s been good for her. She seems to enjoy time with my mom in the kitchen. They turn the music up and dance around each other as if they’ve been doing it for years.

“Yeah. She’s cooking.” His eyes light up with that comment. All the guys love her food, and she loves cooking for them too. I’ve had them start kicking in funds to pay for all the meals they’re consuming. Feeding the guys isn’t in her budget. “I’m sure she will send me home with something.”

“Will I get it tonight or tomorrow?” I roll my eyes.

“Tomorrow.” He knows Lauren has been spending the night. I haven’t kept it a secret. As much as I would love to keep Lauren a prisoner in my room, we do hang out with the guys when they’re home.

Lauren’s even managed to get Wyatt hooked on some detective show where they show the police interviews. He’s obsessed with it now. They watch at least one episode together if he’s home.

“So, you’re staying there?” A flash of jealousy sparks in his eye.

“Don’t know. You can eat with us if you want. Lauren won’t mind.”

“Lauren won’t, but Sydney will. She wasn’t thrilled when I came over a few weeks ago.” That is true. She was quiet the whole night. That’s rare for her.

“Did something happen? She isn’t still mad about her bookshelf, is she?” Koa clears his throat.

“No,” he says, staring at his hand as he forms a fist and stretches his fingers back out.

“Well, the invite is open. I better go.” He nods. Then I slide in my car and drive towards Lauren’s dorm.

The dorm is busy with people coming and going. I’m reminded why we’ve been spending so much time at my place. We’ve only come over here a few times to eat before heading over to her dance practice.

I keep a quick pace and avoid eye contact with everyone I pass on the stairway and in the hall. Once I’m at her door, I knock a few times. I could use the key I confiscated from under her doormat, but I didn’t keep it for me to use whenever I want.

She never got it back since the first time I came over. After a long discussion about their safety, I let Syd and Lauren both know they can call me if they ever get locked out. I will gladly bring them their spare key.

I’m about to knock a second time when the lock clicks, and the door springs open, but no one is there. I duck my head inside to see Lauren running back to the kitchen in a panic.

“Need any help, brujita?“ I take my hat off and throw it on the couch along with my backpack. Then meet Lauren in the kitchen. She is stirring some kind of creamy sauce with one hand while flipping the chicken over with the other.

I stand behind her and pull her long brown hair over her shoulder. “Hola, Lauren." I pepper her neck with kisses and wrap my arms around her waist. A low whimper escapes her, and it speaks right to my dick. I kiss her one more time before stepping away.

There will be time for that later. Hopefully.

“Can you drain the pasta?” Lauren turns off the burner, and I do as she asks. “How was practice?” I grumble out a response. I’m still mad about the media training. Lauren takes the hot pot of drained pasta out of my hands and places it back on the stovetop, then proceeds to turn off the other burners.

I expect her to start mixing the pasta, chicken, and sauce together. Instead, she steps in front of where I’m leaning against the counter. Lauren wedges herself between my legs. My hands move to her hips without thinking.

“What happened?” Her hands glide up my chest until they are around my neck. Poor little thing is stretched out on her tiptoes to reach me. I pick her up and spin us around, placing her on the counter.

“How do you know something happened?” My heart hammers being this close to her.

“You’re being grouchy,” she says like it’s obvious.

“I’m always grouchy.”

“Not with me.” Lauren digs the pads of her fingers into my scalp. It feels phenomenal. My head droops like I’ve been shot with a tranquilizer giving her easier access to my head. “Talk to me, James.” This woman has the power to get me to do whatever she asks.

Letting out a sigh, I tell her everything about my meeting with Coach Lawson. Lauren already knows why I have this fear, but I reiterate it anyways. The thought of stuttering on national television sends me drowning into a pool of nerves and anxiety.

Lauren fiddles with my hair which probably looks like I’ve been electrocuted now that she has raked her fingers all through my curls.

Not that I’m complaining when her hands are all over me.

“Did something happen to make your coach worried?” I shake my head.

“Not really. I just refuse to do interviews. He thinks that kind of attitude will be frowned upon in the league. He’s probably right.” He is right.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

I nod. “Always, cariño." I pop a kiss on her lips without deliberation. Something I never would have done a few months ago.

“I think if someone asked you about a play or whatever, you would be able to answer them without a problem. I also think that you should take this training seriously and tell them about your past.” I huff and attempt to push away from her, but she fists the bottom of my shirt. Her fingers disappear under the fabric and trace the valleys of my abdominal muscles.

“Hart, this person is an expert. If anything, they will be able to teach you how to deflect and give short answers that won’t tank your career.”

“I guess.”

“You know I’m right. Maybe you can ask your coach to let you do interviews when Koa or Wyatt are with you in the beginning. Ease you into it some.”

I scrub a hand down my face. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t see why I can’t give yes and no answers or avoid the cameras altogether. I’ve been doing it that way for the last seven years. It’s worked fine for me.”

“You can try, but that’s not who you are. People need to see what an incredible person you are inside. They should know you’re more than a good baseball player.”

Lauren might be the one blushing, but it’s my heart that is pounding. It’s my chest that feels the weight of her words.

I’ve always been the kid that is good at baseball. “He can’t talk but he can swing a bat.” My biological father has said that more than once when he managed to show up for a game. I know the fact that I had a stutter disappointed him. I wasn’t the perfect son he hoped for, but I could play ball.

As a kid, I wanted to impress my father. I thought if I was good at baseball, I could keep his attention. I played baseball because it was something I enjoyed doing with my stepdad Stephen, but I selfishly played because it gave James Jackson a reason to be proud of me.

I poured everything I had into baseball. So much that it’s all that’s left of me. I became synonymous with the sport.

And now Lauren is telling me I’m more than baseball. That in the short amount of time we’ve spent together she doesn’t see me solely as the guy who can hit a curveball out of the park or catch a grounder off a bad hop.

“Good? I think we both know I’m better than good. I’m phenomenal, extraordinary, sensational,” I say to bring some levity back into our conversation. If I don’t, I’m likely to do something rash like ask the girl to marry me.

“And so humble too.” Lauren pinches my side which hurts more than one would expect from such tiny fingers.

“You’ll pay for that, brujita.”

“I’m counting on it.” Her hands work their way up my body until they’re wound around my neck. I hold in a growl that wants to rumble free. Her body scoots closer to the edge of the counter.

Dios mío I want to strip her bare and make her come right here in her kitchen. She doesn’t even realize how much she turns me on with the slightest touch.

“You are sensational.” Lauren kisses my neck. “And extraordinary.” She nibbles on my ear. “I’m not just talking about baseball either. I see you.” Her eyes focus on mine so intensely I fight the urge to turn away.

“As much as I want to keep you to myself, it isn’t fair to the rest of the world. I know it’s scary for you. But you’re already doing what your coach is asking of you when you help Manny with his homework at rehearsals. Or when you talk to Carlos and Cash. You’re a natural at speaking.” That makes me chuckle.

“I’m serious.” She tugs on the back of my hair. I pretend to chomp at her wrist in retaliation. “You are not a man of many words but the words you do say mean something. They are powerful. I love that about you.” My hands flex on her hips at the mention of the word love.

I realize she didn’t declare her love for me. But Lauren loves something about me. And it isn’t about baseball or the way I look. It’s the one thing that has brought me shame my entire life.

“We should eat,” Lauren says, suddenly self-conscious over my silence. “The food is getting cold. I made one of my favorites. Fettuccine Alfredo.”

She attempts to push me out of the way so she can hop off the counter. “Hart, will you move please?” I crowd her instead, making her huff in frustration. I roll my lips to keep from smiling.

“In a minute.” I cup her face in my hands and encourage her to look at me. “Let me appreciate you for a moment.” Lauren leans into my touch as my thumb skims over her cheek. Her eyes close in submission.

I brush my lips against hers gently. “Gracias por tus dulces palabras, cariño.“ I kiss her one more time and pull her firm against my chest. She rests her head against the heart that beats for her.

We eat at her tiny dining table and chat about everything and nothing at the same time. Every now and then Lauren reveals something from her childhood. A memory of her and her mom going to a ninety-nine-cent movie or spending the day at the park.

I still don’t understand how someone who grew up being stripped of everyone she loved could turn out so sweet. Her heart must take up seventy-five percent of her body, it’s so big.

Lauren updates me on the kids. She is really concerned about Carlos and Manny. Apparently, they are staying in her trailer more and more lately.

We both secretly wish there was more we could do for them. The boys have grown on me. I think Lauren would stow them away in her dorm if she could.

When she asks me what I’m going to write in my paper about her, I freeze. I kind of forgot about it. Spending time with Lauren was never about writing a paper or getting a good grade. I knew the first night that there was something special about Lauren. I wanted her from the very beginning.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “What about you?”

“Baseball is the obvious choice, but...” She twirls pasta absent-mindedly around her fork. “There’s a lot more to you than that.” Lauren blushes, and damn, it’s adorable. “This is my chance to tell everyone who you really are.” She smirks and pops a heaping bite of food into her mouth.

“You wouldn’t talk about-”

“No,” she cuts me off. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you. That is your story to tell whenever you’re ready.” I nod. “And I don’t want-”

“I won’t.” I wipe my hands with my napkin and throw it on my plate. I lean back in my chair and widen my legs. Lauren tracks the movement. Her eyes dip down to my crotch. My sweatpants are noticeably tighter with the way she is looking at me.

“Maybe I should write about what you’re an expert at.” Lauren raises an eyebrow. Curious.

I make her wait.

Lick my lips.

Her eyes stay glued to my mouth and her chest flushes underneath the tiny crop top she has on.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“You don’t know?” She shakes her head. I get up from my seat and stand in front of her. Taking her hands in mine, I escort her over to the oversized marshmallow chair of hers. I sit down, get comfy, and then pull her onto my lap.

My fingers search out the bare skin covering her rib cage. “You are an expert chef. Dinner was really good, brujita.” I kiss her below her ear. “You’re also a really good dancer.” My lips trail down her neck to the small notch at the base of her throat.

Lauren’s hands are like a loaded gun as they float up and down my arms with a feathery touch. I feel like we’re playing Russian roulette. It’s anyone’s guess where they will land and take their shot at me.

“You are also really good at this.” I press my lips to hers. I nip and lick her lips, teasing her. Frustrated, she threads her hand through my hair and pulls herself closer to me, pushing her chest against mine. The sensation makes us both moan, and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue against hers.

I’ve lost control of my hands. They roam up and down her back and over her upper thigh and hip. Lauren climbs deeper into my lap, straddling me without breaking away from my mouth.

Feeling her heat against my erection is almost too much. “Brujita te sientes tan bien.” She feels so good. I leave open-mouth kisses down her neck and blaze a trail toward her breasts as she slowly rocks against me.

“James,” she breathes. “I think you’re the one who’s…” Lauren loses her train of thought when I take one of her breasts in my hand and massage it gently and tweak her nipple. “I’m going to…”

“Take it, cariño.“ I whisper into her chest before I lift her shirt and lick and suck on one of her perfect tits. I’m right there with her hanging on by a thread.

I’m making up for lost time with Lauren. I didn’t think I would be dry-humping my girlfriend for the first time at twenty-two, but here I am, enjoying every second of it.

Lauren’s body shudders as she finds her release. She pulls my head away from her chest and kisses me hard.

Staring at me with a desire I’ve never seen from her, Lauren stands and holds out her hand to me. “I want to try something, but not here where anyone can walk in.”

Lauren tosses me a look over her shoulder. I follow her blindly into her room not sure what to expect. I was seconds from coming in my pants. I can’t picture anything being better than that.

I take a quick look around her personal space. It’s tidy and free of clutter, unlike the common area. You can’t sit down out there without moving a pile of papers and books first.

The click of the door locking draws my attention back to Lauren. Her lips are rolled inward, and her hands fiddle at her sides. “Sit. Please.” She gestures toward her bed.

I sit down on the edge and rest my hands in my lap.

Lauren takes tentative steps in my direction.

“Can I?” Her hands lift the hem of my shirt. I nod and lift up my arms so she can remove it from my body. My dick is happy about the direction we are moving.

Lauren drops my shirt beside me on the bed. Her hands massage my thighs over my sweatpants. I want to shred my body of those too, but this is her show.

Her hand glides up my chest with just enough pressure it doesn’t tickle. The head of my cock fights against the fabric of my pants.

Leaning forward, I slide my hands over Lauren’s ass and squeeze her glutes. A quiet moan escapes past her plush lips. Before I can ask her what she needs, Lauren removes her shirt and her bra.

“I thought you might like something to look at.” I get a few licks and nips in before Lauren drops to her knees. Dios mío, ella es la cosa más bonita que he visto en mi vida cuando está un sus rodillas por mi.

Lauren’s hands reach for the elastic band on my sweats. She silently asks for consent, and I nod eagerly. I lift my hips so she can help me out of my pants and boxers.

Naked as the day I was born Lauren stares at me with her eyebrow twitching. She has lost a bit of her bravado.

Her hand grips the base of my cock the way I like. The way I taught her. I bite back a curse.

Lauren looks up at me with hooded eyes. “Make sure you use your words, James. You know how much I love them.”

“Mierda,” I could come just from the way she’s talking and looking at me with her pretty hazel eyes.

Her tongue licks from the base to the head of my cock. I fight the urge to close my eyes. I don’t want to miss a second of her blissful torture.

That’s what I’ve decided this is as her tongue swirls around lapping up the precum leaking from the head. “Brujita.” The words come out as an angry growl but inside I’m begging for her to take me in her mouth.

Lauren smirks before wrapping her lips around me. “Fuck.” I say through gritted teeth. She takes me deeper than her experience allows her and chokes.

Her cheeks flame as she wipes spit dripping from her mouth.

Determined to do this, she takes me back in her mouth. Thank fuck because I would love nothing more than to finish down her throat or all over her chest.

Lauren bobs up and down. Her hand gripping whatever she can’t fit in her mouth. “You are doing so good, cariño. So pretty on your knees for me. Tan bonita.” I caress the side of her face. Lauren mewls at the praise.

She clamps her lips and doubles her speed. It doesn't take long before my balls tighten up, and my spine starts to tingle. “Lauren. I’m going to come, cariño,“ I warn.

Lauren takes that as her invitation to watch me fall apart. The desire in her eyes to give me pleasure and the warmth of her mouth sends me over the edge.

With her name on my lips and her eyes on me, I give myself over to my little witch completely.

I fall back on the bed. Lauren climbs over my naked body and smushes her tits on my chest. Damn dick is already twitching back to life.

“Are you okay?” Lauren brushes my hair off my face, twirling the curls around her fingers.

“I don’t know. That was…” I trail off trying to think of the right word. I cup her face and pull her toward my lips. “Thank you.” Kissing her thoroughly, I roll her over where she’s under me.

“James,” she says. It’ a siren’s song luring me. I attack her breasts with my mouth while I work the buttons on her jeans.

We’re doing this.

“Hello! Anyone home? Syd? Lo?” Someone looking for a slow death yells from the living room. My head drops on Lauren’s chest, and I groan. Lauren’s laughing.

“It’s Charlie. Give me a second. I’ll get rid of her.”

“Apúrate, brujita.”

“Put your pants on.” Lauren throws my boxers and pants at me. She whips a sweatshirt over her head.

Then glares at me with her hand on the doorknob. Ugh, fine.

I push my legs through the holes of my pants and tuck my dick away.

Happy now. I raise an eyebrow.

She smirks. Very.

Lauren opens the door and greets Charlie in the living room.

“Do you have company?” Charlie asks. Lauren’s hair is mused and her lips are swollen. Charlie knows the answer to her question.

“Hart is here. We’re studying.” Studying? We should study more often.

“Right, well, I won’t keep you from your studies.“ I can’t see the girls, but Charlie isn’t buying what Lauren is selling her.

“I’m guessing Syd isn’t here?” Lauren doesn’t answer her verbally. “Figures. She’s probably hanging out with her hot lab partner.”

“Probably,” Lauren agrees. I remind myself I don’t want to get involved, but I also file this information away for later in case Koa needs to know.

“I just came from The Armory, and they are doing a costume party for Halloween.” Charlie squeals. “We are all going.”

“I don’t know,” Lauren says.

“You could do couple costumes. It would be so cute.” I like Lauren a lot but that won’t be happening. The one thing I don’t do is costumes. I never have and I never will.

“Costumes aren’t really my thing, Charlie.” Thank fuck.

“Just think about it. Even Wren is going to be there.”

“She agreed to costumes?”

“Not exactly. But she will. She can’t say no to me.” I’ve never met Charlie, other than seeing her in the hall when I visit Lauren. I get the impression she is the type of girl that always gets what she wants.

I stop listening to the girls as they continue to make plans. This is the first time I’ve been in Lauren’s room and had the chance to look around.

Her bed is made with a fluffy dark teal comforter. The table by her bed and dresser are free of clutter except for a lamp and a textbook.

I won’t be a creep and look through her underwear drawer, as tempting as it is, but I’m not against looking through her nightstand. I’ll blame it on my investigation, but really, I will always want to dig deeper with Lauren. My curiosity will never be satisfied.

I also have this gut feeling there’s more she’s not telling me.

I ease open the top drawer and bark out a laugh. Right on top is a voodoo doll of me, if I had to guess. I will be asking her about that later. I drop it beside me on her bed.

Underneath the doll are two photographs. One of a beautiful blonde woman with blue eyes. She is looking into the camera with the biggest smile on her face. This has to be Lauren’s mom. While she doesn’t have her coloring, she has a similar facial structure and body type.

The other photograph is of the same woman and a little girl with dark brown hair. Mi cariño. I flip the photo over to see if there is a date, and I’m confused.

Alessa Wilson, 7yo

This isn’t Lauren?

“Sorry, that took so long. Charlie wouldn’t let up. It looks like we need to find costumes,” she says sheepishly. Lauren stops moving when she notices the photos in my hand. “I see you’ve managed to entertain yourself.”

“Who’s Alessa?”

“Me.” My eyes go wide. “I’m Alessa.” Lauren walks toward me with caution. There is a part of her that thinks this will make me run. Never happening.

She picks up the doll before taking a seat. “This is an inside joke with Sydney. She has one for her professor.” She throws the doll back into the open drawer.

“That’s my mom. It’s the only photo I have left of her.”

“She’s beautiful. Like you.” Lauren shakes her head.

“I look nothing like her.”

“You have her nose.” I drag a finger down the bridge of Lauren’s nose. “And her cheekbones.” I trace a line over her freckles. “And her chin.” I give her a pinch.

“You think so?” I nod. “I always felt like I looked like a stranger.”

“No, cariño. I see you in this photo.”

“My dad, whoever he is, took this picture of her when they first met. That’s why she’s so happy.” Lauren takes the photo of her mom out of my hands. “Then he found out about me and never came back.”

“I don’t believe that. There has to be more to the story.”

“Maybe, but I’ll never know.”

“Tell me about your name. You changed it?” I move around on the bed, so I’m leaning against her headboard. Then I lift her onto my lap.

“I did as soon as I turned eighteen. I stopped being Alessa the day I stepped foot inside the group home. I hated that girl. She was alone and sad. Nobody wanted Alessa.” Her voice is quiet and broken.

“When I started high school, my counselor talked to me about college and what it would take to get a scholarship. At the beginning of my senior year, she showed me one for Newhouse. I knew immediately this school was for me. Alabama was going to be my fresh start.

“I turned eighteen, changed my name, applied to school, and never looked back.”

“Do you regret it? Changing your name. Your identity.”

“No. I’m happy. I’m glad I did it. I needed to. I couldn’t be that scared little girl anymore.”

“I’m glad you did it too. Alessa Wilson wouldn’t have been my partner in Morelli’s class.” She smiles, and it’s big enough to nourish me for months.

“True. Do you think we would still be here like this if we weren’t?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately. “I knew I had to spend more time with you after the night at The Warehouse.”

“I thought you hated me. You were so mad when I was standing next to you. And when you got in my car, you were furious.”

“You’re right. I was mad, but not at you. Never you. I had just had words with Matt, and then your car door was unlocked. If I didn't stop him, he could have gotten to you. Anyone could have got to you. You left yourself vulnerable. It infuriated me.”

“We’ve come a long way, huh? I remember the first time I saw you.” Lauren snuggles closer, wrapping her arms around my middle. She blindly traces a tattoo on my back with her fingers. We really have come a long way.

“You and Koa were helping Syd move in. You had a permanent scowl on your face and didn’t say anything to me the whole time. I don’t think you even noticed me.”

I noticed her, but I was suspicious of anyone getting close to my friends. I was worried about Sydney and someone taking advantage of her. I was also dealing with my own issues and insecurities. What if she tried to talk to me, and I made a fool of myself? It was always better to stay quiet and act like an asshole.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about my name.”

“You have no reason to be sorry. Your life before is yours to tell me what you want about it, but I do want to know. I want you to feel like you can trust me and tell me things.”

“I do. You can talk to me too. About anything.” I wrap my arms around her and crush her into my chest. “Is it going to be weird calling me Lauren now that you know who I really am?” I shake my head.

“No, you will always be Lauren to me. Mi brujita. Mi cariño.”

19

LAUREN

“What happened to you two Friday night? Lo and I took off work and everything for game night and you. Didn’t. Show.” Sydney exaggerates each word by pushing her fork in Wren and Charlie’s faces.

“I made nachos.” I frown at Charlie. She loves my nachos. “I even added a few olives just for you.” Charlie pouts.

“Don’t lie to me and say you were out. I know you were home because I sent Wyatt over to get you. All he came back with was the wine you promised to bring. Explain.”

We are sitting outside in the quad at our favorite picnic table. It’s the only table that is situated under one of the many maple trees that are scattered around campus.

We’ve been sitting at this table every Wednesday since we were able to claim it as ours halfway through Freshman year.

It keeps us shaded in late summer and it’s gorgeous to look at this time of year with the warm orange and red leaves. It’s likely one of the last days we will be able to sit out here now that we are edging toward the end of October.

“I was going to come. But then I got a text from Liam. I’m sorry but I wasn’t going to turn down a date with Liam Golding to hang out with you and three emotionally unavailable men. I wore spanx for three days straight to earn that date.” Charlie holds up three fingers then slams her hand on the table making me flinch.

“How did it go?” I brave asking what we all want the answer to.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Charlie slumps in her seat and fiddles with her lunch. “Let’s just say it wasn’t worth missing Lo’s nachos.”

“Sorry Charlie,” Syd says with a teasing grin.

“That stopped being funny two years ago,” Charlie deadpans. “It’s fine. I’m done dating.” I snort. She almost said that with a straight face.

Charlie is a serial dater. She is looking for her Prince Charming. I’ve tried to tell her that her prince will take her by surprise and be someone she is least expecting.

“And what about you Wren? What were you doing that was so important you couldn’t hang out with us?” Sydney asks, ignoring Charlie.

Wren carefully pulls off the tinfoil lid of her yogurt, scrapes the excess back into the yogurt cup, and then folds the lid with precision before storing it in her lunch box.

“I had to study,” she says in her usual dry tone.

“Of course, you did. That’s all you do.”

“Give her a break Syd.” I nudge Syd’s arm with my elbow.

“I just think we’re only going to have this time once. After we graduate it’s work and the real world.”

“You don’t think I know that? I know that better than anyone,” Wren says quietly.

“Then why aren’t you out there living it up? Meeting new people? Going on dates? You’re gorgeous. You would have guys lining up at your door if they knew what you are hiding under that blazer. You’re a single lady get out there, girlfriend.”

Wren hides behind her glasses and blazers, but Syd’s right. Wren is gorgeous with her long black hair and crystal blue eyes.

“She isn’t available,” Charlie blurts out. “She’s engaged.” Charlie pops a potato chip in her mouth like she didn’t just drop a giant bomb on the middle of the table.

“Engaged?” I screech. “Since when.”

“Since she was like sixteen.” Wren grunts in irritation. If looks could kill, Charlie would be fish food.

“Maybe we should let Wren answer.” The three of us look at her expectantly. Her doe eyes widen even further.

“I’m unofficially engaged,” Wren says robotically like it’s a rehearsed line. “We’ll be making it official after I graduate from Newhouse.”

“Congratulations?” Syd says more like a question.

“Thanks.” She offers a grim smile. Wren doesn’t look like a woman who is in love and happy to be getting married.

“Well, game night was fun. I could have used you on my team for trivia.” I attempt to change the subject and Wren relaxes her shoulders.

“At least Hart was helpful. Wyatt and Koa didn’t do me any favors,” Sydney complains.

“Not true. You wouldn’t have won if they didn’t get all the sports questions right and you know it.” Syd waves me off with a whatever.

“Don’t worry. Wren is coming to The Armory this weekend.”

“I didn’t agree to that.” Wren glares at her roommate.

“I don’t remember giving you a choice,” Charlie pushes back. My eyes drift to Sydney and we share a secret knowing look.

Wren and Charlie have been roommates since freshman year just like me and Syd. The only difference is they are opposites of each other whereas Syd and I are very similar.

We get along like peanut butter and jelly.

They are more like oil and vinegar.

Charlie is a vibrant redhead who is down for anything whereas Wren is a planner and list maker.

“I don’t remember saying I was going either.” The Halloween party at The Armory is this Friday which would mean another night off work. Not to mention finding a costume. Dressing up has never really been my thing.

“I already told Ray we needed the night off.” Syd pops a bite of food in her mouth. “He’s cool with it. Said Margo’s been asking for more hours.” She grins like an evil stepsister. Try to get out of this, I dare you.

“I hate you,” I grumble.

Charlie claps enthusiastically. “Okay so group costumes.” That earns her a groan from all of us. “What? Oh, come on. It would be so much fun. We could do Charlie’s angels.” I bark a laugh.

“No.”

“Sexy Wizard of Oz cast?”

“How do you make the tin man look sexy?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Slinky silver dress-”

“Enough said. No.”

“I’m not wearing a costume,” Wren says. “You will be lucky I even go at all.”

“We’ll see about that. Fine. No group costumes. Are you and Hart at least going to do something as a couple?” Sydney starts laughing and I follow shortly behind her.

“I doubt it. I’m pretty sure Hart has the same mindset as Wren. I will be lucky if I can even get him to come.” It will be a hard sell considering I don’t want to go either. I would much prefer a movie night at home.

“Oh please, that boy would do anything for you.” I roll my eyes dismissing the idea.

“Maybe,” Syd agrees. “But I still think he would draw the line at coordinating costumes. He has been a baseball player every year since second grade.”

“How original,” Charlie mocks.

“Hart doesn’t have to worry about it. That’s not my thing either. I already told you that.” Charlie waves a hand brushing off my protest.

I didn’t celebrate Halloween growing up. There was no dressing up or walking around the neighborhood for me. “What about you Syd?”

She lifts her shoulder. “Don’t know. I still have all the costumes I’ve worn the past few years. I will probably just mix and match them to come up with something new. Something sexy.”

“That’s my girl!” Charlie high fives her.

“You can borrow something from me,” Syd tells me. There’s no way I’m getting out of this now.

“Will Seth be there?”

“I mentioned it,” Syd answers slowly. “He might have other plans. We aren’t together or anything.”

“But you want to be,” Charlie pushes. “He’s got that hot nerd thing going on. Maybe I should dip a toe in the science department pool and see if there is any chemistry.”

“That was so bad,” I say in between giggles. “The glasses are very sexy though. Let them see that photo you showed me of him at the gym.” I tap Syd’s phone.

“Did he send you a photo of himself working out?” Charlie holds out her hand in a gimme motion.

“No. I snapped it when I was on the treadmill, and he was lifting weights.” Syd blushes.

“That’s an invasion of privacy,” Wren says coldly.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never snapped a picture of a hot guy without him knowing. Come on Wrennie.” Charlie passes Syd’s phone back after scrolling through several photos of a shirtless Seth.

“Everyone does it. I have a whole folder full of hotties I’ve collected from around campus. Lauren, you’ve done it right?” I shake my head. I have definitely not taken pictures of random dudes around campus.

“Lauren doesn’t have to. She has Hart,” Syd says.

“Well, I bet you have a whole flickipedia album filled with just him. I mean damn. I would if I were you.”

“Flickipedia?” Wren questions. Charlie rolls her eyes.

“The finger file, bean bank, whatever you want to call it. Are you going to tell me you don’t service yourself now too?”

“I have an imagination. I don’t need a flickipedia as you call it to make myself orgasm,“ Wren states just as Wyatt, Koa, and Hart walk up to our table.

“Well. Well. Well. Boys, it sounds like we’ve arrived just in time,” Wyatt says with a grin. “Please continue darlin’. Don’t stop talkin’ on my account. Tell us how you have all you need to get yourself off in that pretty head of yours.”

“Oh Lord, here we go,” Syd mumbles.

I’ve got to give Wren credit. She doesn’t blush. Unlike Charlie whose cheeks are as red as her hair.

Hart straddles the bench and locks me in between his legs. I tune out whatever Wyatt and Wren are talking about. He tucks me so close to him I might as well be sitting on his lap. “Hi,” I whisper and kiss him softly on the lips.

He’s wearing jeans and a henley today instead of his usual athletic wear. He’s also not wearing a hat for once. I take a moment to appreciate how devastatingly handsome my boyfriend is.

“Hola, cariño.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to bring you this,” He whispers in my ear and places a bag from The Round Table in my lap. I open it up and find a giant frosted brownie inside.

“You’re so sweet to me. Thank you.”

“De nada." Hart skims his hand down my cheek. His eyes roam over my face as if he’s looking at me for the first time.

“What were you talking about, brujita?” Hart asks directly in my ear so no one else can hear. He nips my skin and goosebumps break out over my flesh.

“Oh, nothing.” I blush thinking of all the lewd images I have of Hart etched into my memory. I don’t need any photos on my phone either. I have the real thing. Hart runs his thumb over my eyebrow.

“Your skin is so pretty when it’s pink like this. Are you thinking of me right now? Tell me.”

“Yes. I’m always thinking about you.” It’s the truth.

“I think about you all the time too.” Hart has been so patient with me. I don’t know what we’re waiting for exactly. I know we both want to rip each other’s clothes off when we’re alone. Yet instead, every night we fool around for a little bit and then he holds me until we fall asleep.

Maybe he senses my hesitancy? Because as hard as I’m falling for Hart, I also know that sleeping together will change everything. We’ve both waited too long for it not to feel like a big deal.

I glance over at our friends. They are busy talking about plans for the weekend. “Everyone is excited about going to The Armory this weekend. And wearing costumes.” Hart scrunches up his face in disgust. “Are you going to come with me? You can wear whatever you want.”

“Sí. I go where you go, cariño. What are you going to wear?" His eyes drift over the loose t-shirt, jacket, and jeans I’m currently wearing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I slide a hand up his thigh and edge dangerous close to his crotch teasing him. “I have no idea, but knowing Syd she won’t let me leave the house in anything less than sexy.”

“Mierda. Un toque y me tienes más duro que una piedra." Hart nuzzles my neck. “You would look sexy in a potato sack, brujita.“ Everyone continues to talk around us, but all that fades when I have Hart’s full attention.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since he sat down. A building could catch fire or zombies could invade the quad and Hart would still be looking at me.

“I don’t know about that. Sexy really isn’t my thing.” Hart scoffs. “What? I’m serious. Need I remind you what I wore the last time you saw me at a club?”

“Oh, I remember.” The scruff on his cheek feels so good against my skin. I’m sure to everyone else we look like a couple whispering sweetly to each other. I know this is the only way Hart feels comfortable talking to me in public.

“You were hot as fuck in that oversized shirt. You didn’t show an inch of skin. But when you danced, I could imagine running my hands over all your curves you were hiding.” His hand skates across my torso under my shirt sending shivers down my spine. “You looked muy sexy." I blush at his words.

“You didn’t think that.”

“Are you calling me a liar, cariño? I’m good at hiding what I’m thinking. I have years of experience of keeping my thoughts to myself.”

I shrug. “I know you’re not a liar. I just didn’t think you really noticed me like that. You looked like you didn’t even want to stand next to me.” Hart bites down on his bottom lip and his nostrils flare.

He pinches my chin with his thumb and pointer finger, forcing me to look at him. “If you had asked me that night, I would have denied it. But I wanted you. You don’t want to know all the dirty thoughts I had of you that night.” Hart kisses me softly then drops his hand and places it on my back.

“I denied it too when Syd asked me.” Hart’s sleeves are pushed up over his forearm leaving me enough room to trace my finger over his bleeding heart tattoo on his right arm. “She asked me if I was attracted to anyone in the group. I should have said Koa just to mess with her.”

“The fuck you should have,” he snarls. “You will never call that ugly asshole hot.”

“You’re ridiculous. He’s your best friend.”

“I don’t care. I’m dead serious.” His hand grips my hip.

“Hart,” I whisper in his ear. I don’t think anyone is paying attention to us, but what I’m about to say is for his ears only. “You are the only man I’m attracted to. The only man who turns me on. The only man who makes me wet and needy.” I nip his ear and kiss his neck.

Hart threads his fingers through my hair and jerks my head to face him. “Vas a pagar por eso,“ he says before slamming his lips on mine.

My hand searches for something to hold onto and ends up gripping the front of his shirt. I’ve barely caught up to what’s going on when he breaks our kiss.

Hart pretends to be interested in the conversation happening across the table while I’m struggling to pull air back into my lungs. “You should eat your brownie, brujita,” Hart suggests with a grin.

I breathe a heavy sigh and annoyingly pull the brownie out of the bag, making Hart laugh. “We’ll see who’s laughing last,” I mumble under my breath. I pinch off a piece of the brownie and place it in my mouth.

As seductively as I can I suck the leftover icing off my thumb.

At least I hope I look sexy.

I’ve never tried being coy or flirty like this before.

I could look like an idiot for all I know.

If I had to guess by the hard erection I feel at my hip, I’m doing a good job.

I mentally high five myself.

Then suck on my finger before breaking off another bite. I really do love these brownies.

“Brujita, what are you doing?”

“Eating my brownie, Hart. Just liked you asked.” I smirk at him and place another bite in my mouth. I moan as I chew. “Deliciouso.”

Hart opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted by an excited squeal and rapid clapping from Charlie. “It’s settled then. We’ll all head over to The Armory together.”

“I told you I’m not going,” Wren reminds Charlie.

“Half an hour. Give me half an hour and I will clean our dorm until Thanksgiving break.” I glance at Syd hoping she will offer me the same deal.

“Yeah, not happening, Lo. Sorry, babe.” I pout and Hart chuckles. It sounds even more delicious than my brownie tastes.

“Thirty minutes,” Wren finally agrees to Charlie’s offer.

“You two are roommates?” Wyatt asks from where he’s standing beside Wren. She eyes him suspiciously before nodding. “Good to know. I’ve to get to class but I will see you ladies this weekend.”

“Great,” Wren grumbles while Charlie returns Wyatt’s flirtatious smile. This weekend should be interesting with those two flirting back and forth.

We chat for a while longer. Well, mainly Charlie and Syd talk about their costumes for this weekend and the football game. Koa stands there pretending to scroll his phone when he’s really watching Syd.

After I catch Koa’s eyes on Syd a second time, he makes up an excuse to leave. I hope for both their sakes they figure out how to be together or let each other go.

Hart taps my side and lifts his chin letting me know it’s time to get up and start making our way to class.

We walk hand in hand. Our fingers laced together. I love the way his hand feels holding mine. They are strong and solid. I never really thought about how important hands were before.

As we take our seats in Anderson’s class, I refuse to let go of his hand. I trace over the veins and down his long, thick fingers.

These are the hands that comfort me, pleasure me, fight for me, hold me. They are callused and perfectly imperfect with scars from years of abuse on the baseball field.

I love these hands. I’m falling in love with this man. And the more I think about it, I don’t know how I’m going to let him leave here without me.

20

HART

KOA

You sure you can’t make it tonight?

NASH

I don’t want to risk getting distracted. Tomorrow’s game is important. But I’m sure some of the team will be up there. Keep an eye on them?

And Syd. Don’t let her go home with anyone.

Koa is silent but the way he is white knuckling his phone I know there is no way that will be happening.

ME

Don’t worry about Syd. I’m not going to let her or Lauren out of my sight tonight.

NASH

Thanks bro.

“This stuff tastes like shit,” Wyatt declares after he downs a spiked seltzer he stole from Lauren’s fridge. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago, but the girls are still getting ready.

“They didn’t buy those for you. That’s for their pre-game,” Koa informs him. “Who are you supposed to be anyways?”

Wyatt is shirtless and wearing some kind of plaid skirt thing. His socks are pulled up to his knees and his belt has a pouch hanging from it. He’s going to freeze his ass off.

“Some Fraser guy. I don’t know. Syd helped me. She said I could pull it off with my hair.” He shrugs. “I only asked that my costume would help get me laid.”

“And you think wearing a skirt will do it?”

“If the skirt doesn’t, my sword will.” He thrusts his hips a few times making his little purse pouch bounce off his dick. Koa and I both laugh at his crazy ass.

A hard knock sounds from the other side of the door cutting off our laughter. “Are we expecting anyone else?” Koa asks. I shrug from my spot in Lauren’s chair that I have commandeered as my own.

“I’ll get the door guys. Don’t bother getting up. Even though it isn’t my girl’s place,” Wyatt says, walking towards the door.

“My girl doesn’t live here either,” Koa states.

“Uh huh. Sure bro. And my abs don’t look fucking amazing in this skirt,” he says running a hand over his stomach.

Koa turns around to say something, but Wyatt has already moved to the door.

“Enzo what the hell are you doing here man?” Wyatt and Enzo do a quick bro hug. “Come inside.”

Koa and I stand to greet him. Wyatt brings him one of the seltzers with an apologetic smile.

“Marco wanted to hang out with Nash. See if he could cheer him up and help him get his shit together before tomorrow’s game. I had nothing better to do so I thought I would hang with you losers.”

“You mean champs. We kicked ASU’s ass.” Koa punches Enzo in the arm.

“Last year. We’ve got a couple rookies this year…” his voice trails off and he lets out a low whistle.

“We’ll see about that,” I say. Enzo gives me a look that says yes, we will. We might be best friends, but we are extremely competitive on the field.

“So, this is where Lauren lives.” Enzo casually looks around the living room taking in every detail.

“Yeah,” I say slowly, eyeing him suspiciously.

“How are things going between the two of you?” My eyes dart to Koa. He shrugs.

“Good.” Enzo chuckles.

“I’m not going to get more than that?”

“What do you want to know Enzo?” I ask defensively.

I wish I knew why he is so interested in my relationship with Lauren. There is a weariness in his eyes that makes me think this isn’t him looking out for me.

Something else is going on.

Enzo takes a sip of the shitty tasting seltzer and winces. “I don’t know. She’s the first girl you’ve dated since I’ve known you. I’m curious what it is about her that caught your eye.”

I let out a breath. “Lauren is special. She’s beautiful. Inside and out. She didn’t grow up like we did Enzo.” Anger flashes in his eyes. I ignore it for now. “Yet, she’s the sweetest person with the biggest heart. If I were her, I would be so fucking angry.”

“What was it like for her growing up?”

“It’s not really my story to tell. I don’t know why you need to know anyway.” Lauren and I have had several late-night conversations about her life in foster care. The different families she lived with and what it was like living in the group home.

Lauren was lucky. While she went to bed hungry more times than she should have and she may not have felt the love she deserved, she wasn’t abused. At least not physically.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Enzo stares at the drink in his hand. “You’re happy though? You make each other happy?”

“Yeah, man. We’re happy.” The words ‘I love her’ almost slip past my lips but I’ll be damned if I tell my boys before I tell her. Enzo nods the same time the door to Sydney’s room opens.

One by one the girls begin to file out of the room starting with Wren.

“Hello Lass,” Wyatt says in a terrible Scottish accent. “What are you dressed up as?” Wren has on high-waisted dress slacks, a blouse, and a blazer.

She pushes her glasses up where they’ve slipped down her nose. “I’m not wearing a costume.” Wyatt’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Yeah buddy, I don’t think you can get yourself out of that one.

Charlie exits the room next. Her costume consists of a green bodysuit with ivy vines wrapped around her arms and torso. I have no idea who she is supposed to be, but it has Wyatt drooling.

“Lass,” he says and kisses Charlie’s hand making her giggle.

There is chatter coming from Syd’s room. I can barely make out the conversation. Koa, Enzo, and I stand up and wait for Lauren and Sydney to come out.

“You go. I need to do one more thing,” Syd says from behind the door somewhere.

“I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this. I am going to kill you. Sleep with one eye open Syd,” Lauren warns.

“It was your idea.”

“I was joking.”

“Well, you look amazing. Hart is going to eat you up. Go out there. I’ll be right behind you.”

Lauren walks out of Syd’s room and all the air gets siphoned from my lungs. Mierda. Mi brujita, has figured me out and she looks fucking amazing. She pulls on her short skirt hoping it will cover more of her ass. It doesn’t.

Lauren stops in front of me and then inclines her head towards her room when she realizes everyone is waiting for one of us to do or say something.

“You aren’t going to let her wear that in public, are you?” Enzo asks when I pass him to follow Lauren into her room.

Do I want every guy at The Armory staring at my girl? No. Am I going to tell her what to do? Also no.

“Lauren can make her own decisions.” Enzo scoffs. “Do you want to tell me the real reason you are so interested in my girlfriend?” I ask, pushing my chest into his. He stares me down for a moment with his nostrils flaring before he walks away, checking my shoulder as he goes.

“Everything okay?” Lauren stands from her bed when I enter her room. Her hands fidget in front of her.

I know we joked around the other day about her wearing a sexy costume, but I didn’t expect this. I am an expert in control. It’s how I’ve managed my speech over the years. Deep breaths and controlled movements.

It’s the way I operate on the baseball field too.

But I’m also a man. There is something about Lauren that snaps every ounce of my restraint.

“Cariño.“ I walk up to her, and my hands immediately gravitate toward her bare legs and lush hips. “You look incredible. Es muy bonita. Tell me. Are you a good brujita or a bad one?” I ask pushing a hand under her tiny skirt.

She has tiny bike shorts on. Something I should be happy about, but I find frustrating at the moment. I slide my hands under the thin fabric and massage the plush bottom.

Lauren wraps her arms around my neck and smashes her body against mine. “Do you like my costume, Hart?” Her warm breath heats the side of my neck.

I take a step back and pull her arms off my neck. Holding one of her arms up, I spin her around slowly. The top part of her dress is a corset and pushes her tits up in a way I didn’t know was possible.

Lauren’s hair is down, styled in waves, and secured off her face with a black headband. It has a tiny witch hat glued to the side. Her makeup is bold with black eyeshadow and brown blush making her cheek bones sharp. Her lips are a bright red that I would love to see smeared all over my dick.

“Mi brujita is the sexiest little witch." I can’t stop myself from nibling and kissing her neck.

“I thought you might like it since that’s apparently the nickname you’ve given me.”

“You don’t like it?” I tease. That earns me a glare. I sit on the edge of her bed and pull her between my legs. I’m eye level with her breasts and I would love nothing more than to bury my head there. I would die a happy man.

“Hart, why did you call me a witch that night? Was I mean to you? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be. That whole night had me on edge. If I did anything…” Her voice trails off and she stares down at the space between us. Too much space. I yank her closer to me.

I hate that she is apologizing to me. She didn’t do anything but make me want her in a way I’ve never wanted anyone before.

“You are the sweetest person I know, cariño. You didn’t do anything that night except make me fall for you." She sucks in a breath at my confession. I palm her upper thighs.

“I don’t date. I don’t allow myself to get wrapped up in wanting a woman. But you enchanted me without even trying. The moment I saw you I wanted you. And the only explanation for my intense feelings is you.” I kiss the top of her cleavage. “Are.” I skate my lips across her neck. “A witch,” I say then rest my forehead against hers after kissing her gently.

“And cariño. What does that mean?“ Lauren’s voice is a low rasp. Her fingers brush through my hair. Her touch is tender, but it makes me anything but soft.

“It means a lot of different things,” I say looking in her eyes. “Honey, sweetie, darling. It means I care about you. It means you’re my sweet, little cariño and I claimed you as mine.”

“But you’ve been calling me that for months. The first night at the library.”

“Lauren, I hate to tell you this, but you’ve been mine since you stood next to me at The Warehouse.”

“Good. I love being with you.” Lauren maneuvers herself onto my lap. “I love the way I feel when I’m with you.” She rocks her body against mine and the quietest whimper escapes her lips.

“Stay with me tonight, cariño. Come home with me.“ Lauren’s lips caress mine. Her lips are possessive yet sweet. She takes her time exploring my mouth. Our tongues tangle together as we taste each other.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you, James.” My body tremors at her words. Lauren is so far under my skin, in my heart. I love her. And if I can’t tell her how much I love her, I’m going to show her.

I kiss Lauren one more time before lifting her off my lap. I squeeze my dick to relieve some of the pressure and readjust it.

“So, you really like my costume?” Lauren asks peeks over her shoulder.

“What do you think?” She glances down at my hand palming myself. Lauren moves my hand out of the way and takes over. Mierda. I will never get used to how good it feels when she touches me.

“I’d say I can’t wait until tonight and I can show you some of my magic.”

“Brujita,” I growl and chase her out of her bedroom with her giggling. Lauren stops short when she sees Sydney and Koa in a staring contest.

Enzo catches my eye. I stand behind Lauren and wrap an arm around her chest. I don’t know what his fucking problem is, but I’m going to get to the bottom of it tonight.

He’s been a dick since the first time he met her.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Koa bellows dragging my attention to him. He is standing toe to toe with Sydney. “Nash will lose his mind if he knows you’re wearing that.”

“Good thing Nash isn’t here, and you aren’t in charge of me. Everyone ready?” Sydney pushes past Koa, but he grabs her elbow.

Sydney narrows her eyes in a dare. She isn’t dressed any different than the other girls. If he continues to make a big deal out of it, he will be showing his hand and giving Syd the advantage.

“Come on bro, let’s get out of here,” Wyatt encourages Koa.

“Fine.” Koa drops Sydney’s elbow but it’s clear he isn’t happy about this.

I drop my hold on and Lauren and exchange it for her hand as we walk out the door. Lauren gives me a light squeeze and nods toward Syd. I let her go and she rushes ahead to catch up with the girls.

“Did Lauren refuse to change too?” Koa asks me quietly.

“I didn’t ask her to. She looks amazing. I’m going to enjoy watching her all night.”

“Along with every other guy,” Enzo adds.

“They can look all they want. Lauren is mine.” Enzo bristles at my statement. “She can handle herself too. She’s proven that time and time again.” Lauren doesn’t need a knight in shining armor. She’s more than capable of saving herself.

We walk across campus to The Armory. It’s only about ten minutes on foot. It would take us that long to find a parking spot and we would still have to walk a few blocks.

“Are you cold brujita? I ask wrapping my arm around her shoulder and tucking her close to me. Lauren slips her hand under the back of sweatshirt. “Shit.”

“Just a little,” Lauren says with a giggle. “Good thing I have my caliente boyfriend to warm me up." I don’t know what I love more. Lauren speaking my language or her calling me her hot boyfriend.

The Armory is packed. Not quite as bad as The Warehouse, but we still have to push through a throng of people clustered around the front bar.

Koa and Wyatt lead us to the back passing by superheroes, devils, and nurses who are grinding on the dance floor.

Is it too early to go home?

Lauren pulls on my arm, and I lean down so I can hear her over the music. “Say the word and we can leave. But I want at least one dance with you.” She pops a kiss on my neck.

The thought of dancing with Lauren sends a mix of lust and anxiety through my veins. I know she will draw a crowd. Having all eyes on us doesn’t sound like something I want. It is, however, worth it if it means having her body rubbing all over me.

The Armory is divided up into three different parts. The front is your basic pub style bar lined with flat screens. There are high top tables and booths you can sit at and order drinks and food.

In the middle is the dance floor and stage. Sometimes local bands play, or they host karaoke night. And in the very back, they have pool tables and darts.

Charlie flirts her way through the crowd and manages to lure a group of guys away from their table while Sydney swoops in and snags it.

It’s a good con. The poor guys never saw them coming.

“Someone has to man the table at all times. You do not leave the table unattended for any reason. There will be consequences,” Syd announces.

“I need a drink,” Wren says and starts walking to the bar.

“I’ll grab drinks for the table. Wait up Lass,” Wyatt yells trailing after her.

“I’ll help,” Koa offers. “You good?” He asks me. I nod knowing I’m also agreeing to keep an eye on Sydney who’s currently whispering back and forth with Lauren.

“Now that daddy is gone. We’re going to dance. Don’t worry we won’t stray too far.” Lauren wraps her arms around my waist. I don’t hesitate to pull her flush against my body.

“Eyes on me,” Lauren coos dragging her hands down my chest. I bite the inside of my cheek to stay focused instead of letting my dick take control. My little witch is enjoying toying with me tonight.

“It’s weird,” Enzo says beside me. I don’t acknowledge him. I’m keeping my eyes on my girl as she twirls and hops around the dance floor with Sydney and Charlie. Her beaming smile makes the corner of my mouth twitch.

“You never dated anyone in high school and out of everyone on campus it’s got to be her.” I glare at Enzo. What the fuck is his problem? “I get it. Lauren’s pretty. She’s smart and driven.”

“Do you have a problem with me and Lauren?” Enzo looks at me then at the dance floor.

He hesitates. “I don’t know,” he says finally.

“You don’t know,” I repeat his words processing them. One of my best friends doesn’t like that I’ve finally found a girl. That I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time. “You said you weren’t interested.”

“I seem to recall you saying the same thing.” He’s got me there.

“Things change.”

Koa comes back with our beers. I gladly take mine. “Everything okay over here.”

“Estupendo." I take another sip of my drink.

“Just let me get used to it. It was one thing to see you together at your parents’ house. But to see you flirting and having your hands all over each other. I just need time, man.”

“What are you talking about Enzo?” Koa asks before I get the chance.

Enzo glances over at the dance floor again. Whatever he sees has him strangling his beer bottle. “Are you going to do anything about that?” He points a finger to where the girls are dancing.

“Mierda." Matt is talking to Lauren and Syd.

“That guy can’t take a hint,” Koa mutters.

“If you aren’t going to say something, I will.” Enzo is seething. I’ve never seen him like this. And over my girl. I’m more inclined to fight Enzo than Matt at this point.

“Give her a chance. Lauren can handle herself. Maybe he will listen to her.” Matt is standing too close to her, but I know Lauren. She won’t stand for it. It surprises me he came out with his left arm still in a sling.

Syd’s eyes bounce to Koa’s and they speak without words. “Syd said they’re fine.” How he knows that from a few blinks and nods I’ll never understand.

Matt lifts his uninjured arm and attempts to touch Lauren’s hat. Before he can get to her, she snatches his wrist and twists his arm painfully. My little witch spits words in his face and then shoves him away.

“I told you she can handle herself.”

Enzo chugs the rest of his beer. “This time.”

“You know. I’m really getting tired of all your shit.” I turn to face him. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been dancing around all night. You don’t want me to date her?” I step closer to him. “You want her for yourself?” I’m so close to him he has to lean back.

“No,” He grits out.

“Then what is it.” I push up on him more.

“Back up, Hart,” Enzo warns.

“Tell me.”

“Hart. Don’t push me.”

“Tell me why you’re so interested in Lauren.”

“Fuck, Hart. She’s my sister!” I blink. Take a step back. The music must be too loud because I’m not sure I heard him right. “Lauren is my sister,” he repeats calmer this time.

“You’re lying. How is that possible?”

“Don’t believe me if you want but it’s true. Your Lauren is my half-sister Alessa.” He’s not lying if he knows her real name.

“We’re going to need more beers. I’ll be back.” I barely register Koa leaving the table.

“It’s a long story but my dad worked in Seattle and met her mom at the diner she worked at.”

“Fuck.” Lauren catches my eye on the dance floor, and I do my best to smile and ease the concern etched on her face. Morelli is her dad.

“How long have you known?”

“The moment I saw her at The Warehouse. She looks just like my aunt Naomi. And her eyes. We have the same eyes.” I glance at his eyes and sure enough they are the same hazel with the golden ring.

“We have to tell her.”

“No. Dad doesn’t want her to know yet.”

“What the fuck, Enzo? She has the right to know. I can’t keep this from her.”

“Well, you forced me to tell you so now you have to.”

“Does Marco know?” Enzo nods. That explains his behavior at dinner. He wasn’t flirting. He was trying to get to know his sister. “I won’t lie to her.”

“I’m not asking you to. I just…give us a little time. Your mom was thinking Thanksgiving break.”

“My mom knows?” He nods again. “And no one thought to tell me?”

“I knew you would react like this. Your priority is her. I knew you would want to tell her and it’s not time yet.”

What the hell is he waiting for?

“And yet you’ve been questioning my intentions this entire time.”

“She’s my sister. I’m happy she has you, but it doesn’t make it any easier to see her all flirty and shit.”

Lauren and the girls join us at the table again. Laughing and dancing the whole way. Enzo gives me a warning look.

“Hi,” Lauren greets me.

How am I going to look Lauren in the eye and not tell her that the family she’s always wanted has been in Alabama waiting for her all this time?

21

LAUREN

"Hola, cariño. Do you want a drink?" Hart kisses my forehead and slides his beer over to me. I take a long pull. It’s not as refreshing as a glass of ice water, but the cool liquid feels good after all the dancing. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes, but I’m ready for a break. How is everything over here?” I hop up onto the empty high top bar seat. My eyes bounce between Hart and Enzo. Something is off. There has been a weird tension between the two of them all night.

“We’re good, cariño. Are you alright after talking to Matt? What did he want?“ Matt. Ugh. That idiot.

“The usual.” I shrug. “I think he finally got the message though.” I smile wide.

“You did good.” Hart pops a quick kiss on my lips. “Are you ready to go home?” I frown.

“You still owe me a dance.”

“Fine. Then we leave and I finally get to untie this.” He loops a finger through the cording at the back of my corset. The thought makes me shiver.

Enzo clears his throat severing the moment. “Lauren.”

“Enzo. Hi. Sorry for not saying it back at the dorm.”

“No problem. You were… preoccupied.” His eyes narrow on Hart.

“I was.” I smile at Hart. His hand is on my thigh and he’s rubbing slow circles over my knee. I want his hands on other parts of my body. Hart’s hand stills suddenly. He’s smirking at me. Clearly reading my mind.

“How’s school going?” Enzo asks, bringing my attention back to him.

“Fine.”

“Still not very talkative I see.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Hart says. Enzo stares Hart down then takes a long sip of his beer.

“Maybe. Is that true, Lauren?”

“No. School is great, Enzo.”

“What’s your major again?”

“English and journalism.”

“Cool.” There is something about the way Enzo smiles. He’s happy about this for whatever reason. Maybe because he knows Hart has the same major?

“What about you?”

“Sports medicine but I’m entering the draft with Hart.”

“You’re as good as him?”

“Better.”

“Not according to our stats,” Hart says. Enzo brushes him off with a shrug.

“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving break?”

“Yes.” The last few years Manny and Carlos have spent the entire weekend with me at my trailer. We binge movies, play board games, and decorate our Christmas Tree.

I love it.

“I want you to come eat with my family, cariño.” Hart must sense my hesitancy. “They can come too.”

“I’ll ask them, but I don’t know.”

“Who are you talking about?” Enzo’s eyes bounce back and forth between us.

“A few kids from Royal Oaks. I live there during the summer and on breaks. They’re like brothers to me.”

Enzo’s jaw tics and he downs the rest of his beer. “How nice. I bet they enjoy spending time with you. I’m going to get out of here. It was good to see you, Lauren. Hopefully we’ll see you again at Hart’s for Thanksgiving. Marco and I will be there with our parents. He hasn’t stopped talking about his dance lessons.” That makes me laugh.

Hart and Enzo talk quietly for a few moments before Enzo says goodbye to everyone at the table.

“What’s their deal?” Syd asks.

“I have no idea. They were intense, right?”

“Yep. I think we need shots.” I laugh.

“That is not what we need,” Koa interjects.

“You, sir, are not in charge here. Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“To the bar!” Syd pumps one arm in the air and then hooks the other in Charlie’s arm. “I’ll bring you back something. Stay here with your man.”

Charlie and Syd leave to get shots. Syd reminds us not to leave the table. I give her a quick salute. No surprise Koa follows them. I have no idea where Wyatt and Wren are. I haven’t seen them since we started dancing. I wouldn’t be surprised if Wren slipped out and went home.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” I shake my head.

“I’m happy here with you.” Hart moves to stand in between my legs. “This isn’t much of a costume.” I pull on the strings of his Newhouse sweatshirt.

“Compared to yours. No, it isn’t.”

“Compared to anyone, Hart.” He still looks good though. His broad shoulders fill out the fabric nicely and his dark wash jeans hang perfectly on his narrow hips. My breathing picks up in anticipation of what might happen tonight.

“Are you ready for your dance, Lauren?” I glance at the crowded dance floor. The idea of dancing for Hart in front of all these people doesn’t sound as appealing to me anymore.

“How would you feel about a private dance at home instead?” Hart’s eyes darken and his hands grip my thighs.

“Let’s go home, brujita.” His voice is deep and growly. It coats my skin like warm honey.

I send a quick text to Sydney and let her know we’re leaving. She better hustle back to keep her table.

“All good?”

“Yep.” I barely get the word out before Hart has me thrown over his shoulder and is carrying me out of the bar. “Hart! Put me down,” I protest weakly. My hand goes to cover my rear end, but Hart beats me to it, holding down my skirt and covering me with his large palm.

Hart walks the whole way back to my dorm with me over his shoulder. He doesn’t put me down until we get to his car.

“That hardly seemed necessary,” I tell him once he’s buckled me into my seat. Hart silently kisses my cheek. Then makes his way around the front of the car. He blasts the heat and I sigh in appreciation. I finally feel my fingers again once we pull into his parking space at his townhouse.

Marco and Nash are hanging out in the living room watching a movie. I didn't think they would be home. I kind of forgot about everyone except for Hart.

I say hello to them ignoring both of their comments about my costume. Nash asks if Sydney is wearing something similar to me. When I tell him I borrowed this outfit from her he immediately gets on his phone and starts texting.

“Go upstairs, cariño. I’m going to get us some snacks and waters.“ Hart grazes a knuckle down my cheek like I’m the most precious thing. “Marco, we need to talk.” I overhear Hart say when I reach the top of the stairs.

I plop down on Hart’s bed and stretch out over his comforter. I didn’t dance long but my feet are killing me. I’m used to dancing in sneakers not high heeled boots. I can’t help but laugh when I bend over to untie my boots and my boobs practically fall out of my top.

I was nervous as hell to walk out of Syd’s room wearing glorified lingerie. It was worth it to see Hart’s face and to feel his touch on my exposed skin. She said he would freak out and probably protest. Maybe even ask me to change.

I heard Enzo. He didn’t like my outfit. Even Koa had something to say about Sydney’s choice of costume. But not Hart. He trusts me to make my own decisions. He supports me without controlling me. I love that about him.

“You’re still dressed,” Hart says when he enters his room. He closes the door and locks it behind him.

“Did you expect me to be naked on your bed?” I tease him. Hart’s cheeks pink and it’s adorable. “I thought you wanted to untie me.” His embarrassment quickly morphs into desire.

“Come here,” he demands. His voice is rough and commanding.

“I have a better idea.” I stand and walk barefoot across his plush carpet. I pull out his chair from under his desk and push it to the middle of the room. “Take a seat. I owe you a dance.”

Hart removes his shoes and his sweatshirt. My pulse kicks up seeing his bare arms and the outline of muscles under his gray tee shirt. He takes a seat and spreads his knees apart. His hands rest casually on his thighs.

I fire up a song from a playlist on my phone. Then place it on Hart’s desk. The song is slow and sultry. I grin when the guy starts singing. Hart does too. He sings about casting spells and making a person yours. I’m glad Hart finds it as fitting as I do.

Hart lifts his hands to run them up my thighs, but I stop him. “No touching.” I balance my hands on his thighs and roll my body into his. I’m basically thrusting my chest right into his face. He’s not complaining.

I turn around and drop to the floor and slowly rise back up. I can feel him hardening underneath his jeans. I feel powerful knowing I am the one making him feel this way just by swaying my hips around. It makes me wonder if I had the same effect on him that night at The Warehouse. He said I looked hot, but did I turn him on like this too?

Looking at him again I graze my fingers against his cheek. Then I spin around until I’m standing behind him. I run one hand down his chest and abdominal muscles. They flex under my palm. I don’t stop until I reach his groin area and graze the top of his erection. Hart flicks his tongue over lips.

I’m turning myself on every time I touch him in a new spot. Liquid heat is pooling between my thighs. Hart’s hands are fisted in his lap. I know he’s struggling to keep them to himself.

I move in front of him again. Dancing has all been forgotten. I’m ready to get to the untying of my corset part he was talking about earlier tonight. I slide my hair over one shoulder. “A little help,” I say eyeing Hart over my shoulder.

He blows out a shallow breath. I face the opposite direction anticipating his touch. Calloused fingers brush over my shoulders and down my back. I do my best to steady my breathing but it’s proving to be difficult when I feel his lips skate across my skin.

“James.” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s raspy and desperate. The way he makes me feel is like nothing I’ve ever known. I feel like I’m at the top of a rollercoaster waiting for that moment when you’re completely weightless, suspended in the air, before you freefall into euphoria.

“Your skin is so soft.” His words tickle the back of my neck. “You have been teasing me with this all night.” Hart tugs on the string at the bottom of my top. “You’re a present waiting for me to unwrap.”

Telling him I’m tired of waiting is on the tip of my tongue but then he starts to untie the knots and bows keeping me trapped. A new song starts up on my phone and it is just as sensuous as the last one.

Hart has my corset untied and he slowly pushes the thin black straps off my shoulders until I’m completely bare on top. “Cariño,” he pleads. For what I'm not sure. I turn around exposing myself to him.

He’s seen me topless before. His lips have kissed, licked, and sucked on my breasts more times than I can count. But it feels different tonight.

Maybe because I know I don’t want to stop.

I’m ready to feel Hart inside me.

I’m desperate for it.

Hart looks at me for permission and I give it to him easily. When his hands finally meet my body, I melt into it. He cups my breast in his hand and pinches my nipple. When he clamps down on me with his mouth, my knees give out.

I wrap my arms around Hart’s neck for balance. Standing up with me in his arms, he carries me over to his bed.

“Shirt,” I say in between breaths.

I want his shirt off now.

I need to feel his skin against mine.

Hart makes quick work of his shirt. Then he unzips my skirt and removes that as well. My hands reach for his belt and the button on his jeans. He stands and kicks them off the rest of way. I also take my witch hat headband off and throw it on the ground.

“No more brujita tonight? Just mi dulce, hermosa cariño.” Hart lays down on top of me between my open legs. He braces his arms on either side of my head, but I need him closer. I wrap one arm around his back and the other on the back of his head.

Hart leans down and kisses me softly. The kiss starts sweet but quickly heat up. The weight of Hart’s body on mine is making me needy. I roll my hips and feel his hard length. The move sends tremors through my body and has me tightening my grip on Hart’s hair.

Hart moves his mouth to my neck, my chest, and down to my stomach. He sits back on his heels long enough to remove my underwear and then he’s back to worshiping my body.

It’s embarrassing how desperate I am for him. Hart blazes a trail with his lips and tongue up each leg. Not letting one muscle go untouched. “James,” I beg again.

He looks up at me with a smirk.

He knows what I want.

What I need.

However, there is a hint of worry or nervousness in his eyes.

“You don’t have to if you don’t-”

“I want to,” he cuts me off.

“Hart, you have all my firsts. Everything is yours. Whatever you do will feel amazing because it’s you.” I sit up to meet where he’s kneeling before me and kiss him hard enough, he can feel how much I love him.

Because I do. I love this man.

“Lay down, cariño.” I do as he asks, and Hart makes his descent on my body. His mouth devours me. I can barely hold still as he licks and sucks on my clit. I’ve never felt pleasure like this before. It’s not enough and too much at the same time.

I’m whimpering and mewling. Panting Hart’s name. My fingers thread through his hair and I tug at him. I need something to hold on to. I also want to touch him in some way. The thought of touching him and having him inside me makes everything he is doing to me intensify.

Hart adds a finger and then another stretching and preparing me. My back arches without warning and I climax on Hart’s tongue. He continues to lap at my center and helps me ride out my orgasm.

“I love the way you taste. I can’t wait to do that again. I want to hear you make all those noises over and over. I will be thinking about this moment for a long time.” Hart kisses me and I can taste myself on him. It turns me on even more. I slide my hands down his obliques and slip my fingers under the band of his boxers.

“I want you, Lauren. I need to be inside you.”

“I want that too.” Hart pops a quick kiss on my lips before he removes his boxers and grabs a condom out of his nightstand drawer. My eyes don’t stray from him as he rolls on the condom. The tattoos on his forearms dance as he flexes his muscles. He’s mesmerizing. He’s all mine.

“My beautiful, cariño,” he says before lining himself with me and gingerly pushing inside. “Breath for me, Lauren. Relajate para mí cariño.”

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax and let Hart work his way into my body. Hart is not a small man. Even without a comparison I know his dick is on the large size.

It is uncomfortable as he struggles to inch his way in. I clear my mind and focus on his face. I don’t want to think about the pain. I know it will only be like this one time and even now it still feels good because it’s Hart. Anything with him feels…right.

His arms shake beside my head, and he slowly works himself deeper inside of me until he’s fully seated. “James, I need more.” Hart growls into my ear. He thrusts a little harder but pulls out slowly. “Hart.” I scrape my nails down his back. I can feel him struggling with control.

Is he trying to last longer for me?

I palm his face with both hands. “Let go,” I beg him to stop holding back.

“Te sientes muy bien. No quiero terminar pronto.“ Between the way he is speaking to me and his mouth roaming all over my body, I begin to feel the start of another orgasm.

I didn’t think it would be possible to have another. Not for my first time. I meet Hart thrust for thrust chasing after what I want.

“Mí cariño. Mí amor,” he whispers into my ear. His words don’t get lost in translation. They send me over the edge, spiraling into blissful ecstasy.

Even if I didn’t know what they meant, I feel it. I’m his love.

“Mierda.” Hart continues to curse as he grunts out his release. I feel him pulsing inside of me and I wish there wasn’t a condom there so I can feel all of him. “Are you okay?” He brushes my hair off my forehead. “Did it feel good for you?” Oh, this sweet, sweet man.

“Yes, that was incredible. You’re amazing. I loved every second of it. I didn’t know what to expect but you made it something I won’t ever forget. Thank you.” Hart drops his head to mine.

“If you do forget, we’ll do it again. I’ll remind you how good it feels when I’m inside you.” Hart rolls his hips to prove his point. Unfortunately, he pulls out instead of continuing. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

I giggle when Hart opens the door and runs across the hall to the bathroom naked. I scoot around on the bed until I’m underneath the covers. All I need is for one of the guys to come up here and see me sprawled out in my birthday suit.

Hart comes back with a washcloth in his hand. He pulls the blankets off me and wipes between my legs. His actions appear confident, but the flush of his cheeks and the nibble of his lip makes me think he’s not sure if he’s doing the right thing. “Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.”

Turning towards the closet, Hart releases a sigh of relief. He throws the washcloth in his hamper. Then digs in his dresser for underwear and a t-shirt.

“I guess I should get dressed too. It would probably weird if I’m the only one naked.” I stand up and start making a pile of my discarded clothing. “Or maybe I should leave. He may not even want me to stay. He did ask me to stay earlier.” I ramble away in my head.

I snag my underwear from the top of the pile and bend over sliding them back on. I straighten, pulling my underwear up as I go. As soon as I’m upright Hart slams a shirt over my head. One at a time he pulls my arms through the holes. “I said all of that out loud didn’t I?” Hart nods.

“Go the bathroom. Brush your teeth. Then come back to bed. I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight. I want.” Hart stops and swallows hard. “I need you with me tonight, cariño.” I kiss Hart on his chest and tiptoe across the hall.

A laugh escapes me, when I see myself in the mirror. My dark eye make-up is smeared across my face, my red lipstick has been kissed completely off my lips, and my hair… I know what they mean now by freshly fucked.

I gather my hair and tie it into a messy bun. It won’t last long, but at least it’s out of my way while I wash my face and brush my teeth. After peeing and washing my hands, I take one more look in the mirror.

My virginity is gone just like that. I’m not sure what I expected to feel, but happy, cared for, loved wasn’t it. You hear so many horror stories about it being bad or awkward. Or the guy not really giving a shit and sending you on your way. I let out a sigh of gratitude that this wasn’t my experience.

Hart is lying in bed with his arms behind his head. His bare chest is a masterpiece. I close and lock the door behind me. Then leisurely make my way to the empty side of the bed.

“Are you sleepy?” I snuggle into my pillow. It smells like Hart. He opens one eye and watches me sniff his pillow like a weirdo.

“I’m satisfied. Temporarily,” he adds with a smirk. Hart rolls onto his side and pulls me closer to him. I want to protest as I lose hold of the pillow I’m inhaling.

Then I realize I can get my fix straight from the source. I bury my face in the hollow of his neck.

“You probably wished you did that years ago,” I joke.

Hart shakes his head. “No. It would have been meaningless and not worth the time. This. You and me.” Hart stares at me searching for the right words. “Lauren, you were always supposed to be here with me. I felt it from the beginning and everything tonight...” He clears his throat. “Everything tonight confirms I was right.”

“I’m glad you feel that way because personally, I really like being by your side. I also liked being under you and I’m pretty sure I would like being on top of you too.”

“Mierda." Hart buries himself in my chest. “You’re perfect. I can’t wait to have you again, cariño. To taste you. To feel you clench around me." God, I want that too. Hart captures my mouth with his.

We kiss like teenagers. Maybe we’re making up for lost time. Hart stops before things can escalate. “I don’t want you to be sore.” I want to pout but he’s probably right. “Tomorrow. Let me hold you and we can talk.”

Hiking a leg over Hart, I snuggle him as close as I can without star fishing on top of him. Although, that is very tempting. I bet he wouldn’t even notice.

“What do you want to talk about?”

He quietly runs his fingers over my thigh and another down my back. “Have you ever thought about finding your dad?” I flinch. His question catches me off guard.

“Have you?” He shakes his head, knocking a curl loose. I push it back out of his eyes.

“I have Stephen. My father is long gone.”

“I haven’t thought about finding him. Not since my mom died.”

“So, you did want to know him at one point?”

“Hart, where is this coming from?” I lift my head and look at him. He peers down at me searching my face.

“Just curious.”

“Yes. Once. After my mom died and I was getting shipped off to my first foster family. I thought if I could just find my dad. He would make everything better.” But he didn’t exist. There wasn’t anyone coming to save me from my fate. Hart squeezes me closer to him.

“If he showed up now, what would you do? Would you hear him out?” It’s such a hypothetical question. It’s an impossibility. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.

“I want to say I would stay and hear his side of things. Satisfy my curiosity if anything. How do I forgive someone who gave up on me? If he knew about me, how do I pretend like he didn’t leave me behind?”

“I don’t know, cariño. I want to hate him for you, but I wonder if there is more to the story.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m never going to know him. I don’t need him anyway. I have you. Sydney. Carlos and Manny. You are my family. You’re all I need.”

Falling asleep in Hart’s arms, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Hart is right, we have started something good.

22

HART

“Lauren coming to the game?” Koa asks while we stretch and warm up in foul territory by first base.

“Nah, she had to finish up something for one of her classes before break next week.” We’ve had a few scrimmages throughout the month of November. This is the first one Lauren has missed.

Last weekend she even brought Manny with her. Carlos had to help Carter with something, and she didn’t want to leave Manny alone. Whatever is happening at their house is getting worse and there isn’t anything Lauren can do about it.

“Have you talked to Marco or Enzo?”

“Not since the game last week.” The same game Manny came to. I didn’t miss the way Enzo watched Lauren and Manny interact. Jealousy radiated off him in waves. Enzo is a ‘takes no shit’ kind of guy. He’s always in control. He doesn’t ask for permission or offer apologies. It’s strange to see him out of sorts because he misses his sister.

I’ve kept my promise to stay quiet. I hate every second of it. I’m questioning where my loyalty should be. Enzo and Marco are family to me. I’ve known them since we were little kids. I couldn’t even tie my own shoes when I met Enzo.

But Lauren…fuck. She is my heart. My soul. My entire world. She is my future. To hold back information that will shake up everything she’s ever known? It doesn’t sit right with me.

“I’ve got to tell her.” Koa lets out a slow breath. “If I don’t, she’s going to hate me. I’ve been lying to her.”

“You aren’t lying to her.” I level him with a look. “Okay, fine. But it isn’t a direct lie. What’s one more week at this point? You’ve waited this long. You have plans to sit down and talk to her together. Why not wait?”

Because they are going to ambush her. It’s going to make her feel even more alone than she already does.

“They don’t know Lauren like I do. I’ve talked to Morelli, and he is insisting that he needs to be the one to tell her. He wants to have a chance to explain his actions.”

“Did he tell you what happened? I’ve done the math, bro. Lauren and Enzo are only a few months apart in age.” I’ve done the math too. All I’ve concluded is the story doesn’t add up.

Morelli and Victoria, his wife, are happy. They are in love. Have been forever. The idea of Morelli stepping out and cheating on her doesn’t compute in my brain.

“You might have bigger problems today.” Koa inclines his head toward the stands. Shit. In the front row are three reporters from the Newhouse Tribune and a camera crew. “I guess we’re doing our interviews finally.” His words are barely audible through the panic shrouding me.

My skin suddenly feels like it doesn’t belong on my body. I shake out my limbs trying to extricate the uneasiness that sits below the surface.

“Focus on the game Hart. You might be able to slip out before you get called.” Unlikely. Coach has been adamant about me stepping up my post-game press interviews. I’ve met with my media trainer a few times, but it was pointless.

I can’t seem to push past this fear of stumbling over my words in front of hundreds of people. The memories of the short, chubby, boy who stuttered through reading out loud in class and being berated and beaten down haunts me. It’s all I can think about when I’m being interviewed.

Already feeling myself begin to clam up, I nod at Koa and finish my warm-up. Focusing on baseball is the one thing I’m good at. You’re more than a good baseball player. Lauren’s words slip into my subconscious. I wish she was here.

We’ve been spending almost every night together. I can’t get enough of her. Once I slipped inside her, I was done for. I'm completely addicted. It took all my self-control to last long enough for her to orgasm again the first time we had sex. The moment I sunk in all the way, I wanted to thrust into her hard and fast.

For purely selfish reasons, I held back. I needed to feel her clench around me. Basically, my dick was jealous of my fingers.

It’s only gotten better since that night. I’m still barely able to hold it together around her. Sometimes just looking at Lauren has my cock leaking. I’m learning about her body and what makes her wet and begging for my touch. Fuck if that doesn’t do things to my ego.

Coach calls us together for a pep talk breaking me from my thoughts about mi brujita. He mentions post-game interviews are a requirement for all players. He looks me square in the eye. Coach also let us know they will be filming the game to make highlight reels for the school’s social media channels.

Basically, don’t fuck up and make him look bad.

After the pregame anthem, I take my place on the field. We are scrimmaging with Auburn today. They aren’t a team to sleep on. We’ve battled with them several times over the years. There is no love lost between our two teams.

Wyatt has a few rivals from his high school days on the team too. With him on the mound, it will be interesting. I think he is looking forward to striking out one or two of their guys to extract a little payback from last season.

Auburn’s first batter squares up to the plate. Koa signals a pitch. Wyatt shakes it off. He keeps shaking his head until Koa signals one he likes.

The batter gets a piece of the ball, and it sails in my direction. He takes off running to first base. With a quick hop, I stretch my left hand, plucking the ball out of the air with the tip of my glove.

Wyatt puts in the work on the next two batters fouling out one and striking out the other. We switch to offense. Koa is first up at the plate for our side. I’m second followed by our right fielder Thomas.

I manage to get a clean hit down the line earning me an easy double. Koa advances to third base. Coach has him hold there. Thomas waits for his pitch while Koa and I inch our way off the bag. We’re both ready to run.

Thomas cracks his bat with the ball. After the first hop, Koa and I take off. He scores easily. I sprint after him down the third base line and slide across home plate, barely missing the tag by Auburn’s catcher. We end the inning up three runs. Thomas is giddy in the dugout boasting about his high RBI count.

By the ninth inning, I’m starting to feel edgy waiting for the game to be over. A few more outs and it will be time for interviews.

“Let’s end this,” Wyatt shouts from the mound. Auburn has one out and one on base. Their guy at bat has been driving balls down the third base line all day. I nod to Derek and signal him to step behind the bag and be prepared.

Number fifty-two swings hard and the ball flies low between me and third base. I call it, letting Derek know he doesn’t need to move. Diving for the ball, I catch it and quickly pop up on my knees to flick the ball over to second base.

It wasn’t pretty, but we got the out.

The guys from the outfield run in, thanking me for ending the game. I’m smiling, silently celebrating with the team when Coach grabs my attention.

“You’re the first interview, Hart. Go clean yourself up while they get everything set up on the field.” A myriad of emotions hit me at once. Anger, panic, fear, but I don’t let it show. I give Coach Lawson a curt nod and walk toward the athletic building.

The guys are already showering and getting dressed for their interviews. Most of them are excited for an opportunity to talk about themselves. I wish I could be that relaxed and blasé.

I punch in the code to the safe in my locker. Once it clicks open, I grab my phone. I have a few messages from my parents and one from Lauren. I check hers first.

LAUREN

How was the game?

ME

Good. They had their rook pitching. It was an easy win.

Lauren reads the text immediately.

LAUREN

I don’t know what a rook means in baseball but I’m guessing it has nothing to do with chess.

ME

Your lack of sports slang is appalling. Their rookie. The new guy on the team.

LAUREN

That clears everything.

ME

How did your project go?

LAUREN

Good. Almost done. Do you want to come over? Watch a movie? Or not watch a movie?

Not watch a movie is code word for have sex.

Just in case you didn’t pick that up in text.

Damn it, if that offer doesn’t sound appealing to me right now.

ME

I have to do an interview for the paper first. They are doing some kind of video highlight reel thing.

Panic starts to surface again. It’s the unknowns that are triggering my anxiety. Maybe if I had a list of questions, it wouldn’t be as bad. I could prepare myself. Practice some. Texting with Lauren is helping but she can’t be here with me.

LAUREN

That’s happening today? Why didn’t you tell me?

ME

I didn’t know until they showed up for the game.

LAUREN

Oh, okay. You may not think so right now but you can do this. Keep your answers simple and concise. You don’t owe them your life story. You tell them as much or as little as you want. I believe in you.

Her words break loose something in my chest.

ME

Thank you,  cariño. I have to shower and get ready before Coach is on my ass. I’ll text you when I’m on my way over to not watch a movie with you.

Bubbles appear and disappear. Then eventually stop. I put my phone back in the safe and head to the showers. Might as well get this torture over with before Coach makes it worse.

A camera is situated on a tripod right inside the first base line facing left field. It’s focused on a single directors’ chair. A student reporter with a clipboard directs the camera man and another student holding a boom mic around.

The cooler weather is doing nothing to stop the sweat from beading on my forehead. I’m wearing our Newhouse baseball sweats and sweatshirt as requested by Coach Lawson. I lift my baseball cap and wipe the sweat off my brow.

“James Hart.” The dark-haired reporter approaches me. “Hi, I’m Lindy.” She holds out her hand. I recognize her from one of my classes. “We better get started. Have a seat.” Lindy gestures to the lone chair on the infield.

“This is Chuck and Henry. I’m going to ask you a question off camera. You will need to repeat the question as part of your answer. For example, I might ask, what was your best play of the game? Then you’ll respond, ‘My best play of the game was…’ and then give your answer. Sound good?” I nod. I don’t have much of a choice but to agree with her.

“Great. Boys are you ready?” They make a few last-minute adjustments and tell Lindy they are good to go.

Lindy glances down at her clipboard. Then up at me with a tight-lipped smile. Did Coach tell her I was going to be difficult?

“How have you and the team been preparing for the upcoming season?” My eyes flick from Lindy to the camera. My hands grip the wooden arms of the chair so tight they might splinter. A throat clears drawing my attention back to Lindy. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“We.” I clear my throat. Lauren’s words filter through my brain. Simple and concise. “Sorry.”

“No problem. Take your time.” Lindy’s words are polite, but her smile has all but disappeared. Probably like her patience with me. I’m messing up her timeline. Several of my teammates are waiting in the dugout for their turn in the hot seat.

I stare down at the ground, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I can do this. I focus my attention back on the camera. But out of the corner of my eye I see her standing in the front row. The same spot she watches me practice every week.

Lauren gives me a quick nod and a reassuring smile. ‘Talk to me’ she mouths. I like it when you talk to me. Her words from months ago calm the panic that has me itching to jump out of this seat and run away.

“We have been preparing for the season with conditioning, batting practice, fielding drills, and workouts. The same as we did last year,” I answer not taking my eyes off Lauren.

“You made some incredible plays today. Which one was your favorite?”

“My favorite play was the one that ended the game.” Lauren smiles and shakes her head, laughing at me.

“It’s rumored that you are likely to be drafted in the first round. How do you feel about that?” Being drafted has been the single most important thing in my life for a long time. It’s kept me focused on something positive and moving forward toward the future and not stuck on my past.

My eyes stay trained on Lauren in her oversized sweater, leggings, and puffy jacket that probably does nothing to keep her warm. She’s wringing her hands together and biting her lip waiting for me to answer. “I’ve never been more excited about my future.”

Lindy asks a few more questions about the game, the team. She even gets personal with questions about my favorite foods, movies, perfect date, and musical tastes before I’m relieved from my duty and Koa is called.

“You did good man,” Koa says as we cross paths on his way to the interview.

“I had a little help.” I nod up to the stands. My heart is beating faster than it should be now that I’m done with my interview.

“She showed up?” He’s surprised but there’s also appreciation in his smile.

“Yeah. She did.” I leave Koa to do his interview and take long strides toward Lauren. I hop over the barrier wall easily and land a few feet from the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Lauren meets me halfway, throwing her arms around me. “You did so good. I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you.” Lauren dips her head and turns it just enough to fit under the bill of my hat to give me a kiss.

“You’re here,” I say still in disbelief that she showed up to support me without being asked. “What about your project?”

“Of course, I’m here. If I had known you were going to have these interviews today, I never would have made plans to work on the assignment. We still have a few days to get it done. Cassidy would have understood. It is for a silly elective anyway. It’s not as important as this. As you,” she admits.

I hold her in my arms and bury my face in her neck. I inhale several deep breaths. Even in the winter, she smells like a warm summer day. I drop Lauren back on her feet and start leading us out of the stadium. I can’t do this here with so many people around. Not to mention cameras and a microphone.

“Hart? Is everything okay?” Lauren asks, stumbling to keep up with me and my quick pace to somewhere more private. I keep walking until we’re back inside our training facility and behind the closed door of an exam room.

Lauren glances around the room taking in the small space. There isn’t much here. An exam table, a light box for viewing x-rays on the wall, a cart full of basic medical supplies. The rooms are mainly used for our trainers to massage cramped muscles, tape up sprains, clean up any minor injuries. That sort of thing.

“Hart?” Lauren whispers. I’m trying my best to rein in my emotions.

“Why are you here?” Her eyebrows bunch together.

“I wanted to support you. I knew this was a big deal for you. I wanted to be here. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“But why, cariño?” I lift her and place her on the exam table. I need to see her face. I need to look her in the eyes when she answers me. “Why did you drop everything and come to me?” I latch on to her thighs right above her knees. “How did you know I needed you?”

Lauren palms my cheeks. “Because I love you.” My eyes close. My body shudders. “I have complete faith in you. You are a man who can do anything, but I know you. There is still a little boy in you that is hurt. I thought if you saw me, maybe you could just talk to me. I’m here because you show up for the people you love.” Lauren’s words are soft, but I hear them like a war drum echoing through the mountains.

Her declaration wraps around me, silencing any insecurities and doubts I’ve had about not being good enough. Because as much as I hate it, they were still there telling me that no one wants a guy who can’t talk to people. That no one can love a guy like me.

But she does.

I cut the small distance between us and brush my lips against hers. Her hands wrap around my neck deepening the kiss. Proving to me just how much she loves me. I pull her as close to me as I can with this stupid jacket on before I break away from the kiss I started.

“I tease you about putting me under a spell. That the voodoo doll you have actually works.” She rolls her watery eyes. “But the truth is, it wasn’t magic that made me fall in love with you.” Lauren’s breath catches in her throat. Did she think I didn’t feel the same? “It was your heart. The way you see people. The way you see me.” I wipe a tear that makes its way down her cheek.

“You…you never questioned my silence. You never pushed me. You accepted me as I was.” My hands search under her jacket and sweater until they find a soft sliver of skin. She’s so warm and sweet. “You are everything to me. I need you to know that. I need you to understand that you are the most important thing in my life. Nothing matters if you aren’t with me. Te amo, cariño. I love you so much.”

“You really love me too?”

“Not too, cariño. I love you period. There is no prerequisite of you loving me. If you ever stop, I will still love the fuck out of you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t plan to ever stop loving you.”

“Thank fuck.” I drop my head into her neck and savor the sound of Lauren’s laughter turning into moans as I lick and nip at her flesh.

I stay in this bubble for as long as I can knowing next week, she might hate me for not telling her the truth about her dad.

Fuck, I’m an asshole. I don’t deserve her. But hell, if I’m not going to do all I can to keep her.

23

LAUREN

I take a small sip of my sangria. It’s my second glass and I’m still wincing with each swallow. I’m not sure what’s in here exactly, but it’s strong as hell. Sylvie said it’s tradition. Her grandmother and mother made batches of it every holiday.

Sylvie and I are working side by side in her kitchen along with Victoria, Enzo and Marco’s mom. It’s kind of weird spending the holiday with my professor and his family.

It feels wrong.

Against the rules.

But she’s kind. Who am I kidding? Everyone is kind and wonderful after I finished my first glass of sangria. I love everyone.

I definitely love Hart and the way he looks in the button-down shirt he has on today. Yep. I’m switching to water before I say one of these random thoughts out loud. I push my sangria out of reach. Well, maybe one more sip.

“Mija? Are you okay over there? You're flushed.”

“It’s the sangria. It’s very strong.”

“You’ll get used to Sylvie’s cocktails. Wait until you have one of her margaritas,” Victoria shares.

“I’m not really much of a drinker.” Syd and I drink fruity seltzers, but the alcohol content is nonexistent compared to these bad boys.

I return my attention to peeling potatoes while Victoria is putting together a cheese and cracker board. Sylvie is chopping onions, carrots, and celery for the stuffing. The menu today is a mix of traditional recipes and Hart family favorites.

“How are Manny and Carlos doing? They didn’t want to come today?” I grimace.

“They did. I think they would have, but their mom…” I shake my head. It isn’t my business to share. Mrs. Garcia didn’t want them to leave home today. At least she was sober when I came by to see them and drop off breakfast this morning.

Carlos knows to call me or Carter if anything changes. I can’t imagine her staying that way all day. It would be a first.

“Please tell the boys they are always welcome here.”

“I will. I’ll see them tomorrow. We’re going to watch movies and hang out.”

“That sounds really nice,” Victoria says. It’s more than nice to me. I wonder if she would still think it’s nice if she was sitting on my thrifted couch in my run-down trailer.

I don’t like to judge people, but Victoria looks like someone who would consider afternoons getting her nails done and Sunday brunch with friends nice.

“Sylvie tells me you’ve been spending a lot of time with James and the boys.” If I wasn’t already flushed from the sangria, I would be now. I glance over Victoria’s shoulder into the living room where Hart, her sons, Mr. Morelli, and Stephen are watching football.

“Um. A little. I mean Hart and I are, uh.” I stop speaking and take a gulp of my drink seeing as I can’t seem to put a sentence together anyway.

“You and my James are in love, no?” Sylvie asks but it comes across as a statement of fact.

“I, well, yes,” I finally say. Both women grin at me. I blush further and stare at the pile of potatoes in front of me.

“I knew when he came to dinner.”

“We were still figuring everything out weeks ago. How could you tell?”

“Not weeks, mija. This was months ago." Months ago? She knew he was in love with me that long ago? “He had this look on his face. He seemed lighter. Happier. You healed a hurt in him. You got him to see he is more.” Sylvie’s eyes gloss over, and I know it’s not from the onions this time.

“He is really special. You did a good job raising him.” Sylvie sets down the knife in her hand and walks around the island until she is in front of me.

“Thank you, mija. That means a lot coming from you," she says wrapping her arms around me. I want to ask why. She must see the confusion on my face because Sylvie answers my silent question. “Because you also had an incredible mother who did an amazing job raising you.”

“She was amazing,” I whisper.

“Everything okay in here? Cariño? Mamá?” I swallow back my emotions clogging my throat.

“Yeah, we’re good. Too much sangria. You could have warned me that your mom was heavy handed with the booze. I’m about to spill all our secrets.”

Hart crowds behind me and speaks directly into my ear. “You didn’t tell them how much you like it when my co-.” A throat clears cutting him off. Professor Morelli is standing by his wife with his eyes narrowed on Hart. Stephen walks behind them with a smirk on his face.

“Refills anyone?” I ask before slamming back the rest of my drink and shaking my empty glass. Praying to God no one heard a word Hart just said or was about to say. I would be mortified.

“The boys asked me to see if you two wanted to watch the game. I can take over in here.”

“Here take this with you.” Victoria hands me the appetizer plate she put together. Alright, I guess we’re watching football.

Hart grabs a few beers, my refill and follows me into the living room.

“Oooh, food,” Marco says as soon as he sees the tray of crackers and cheese. I set the snacks on the table and Hart passes the drinks out to Enzo and Marco.

“Thanks, bro.” Whatever happened between Hart and Enzo Halloween weekend seems to be squashed. Enzo snags a few crackers and slices of meat and cheese then takes it back to where he is sitting in the recliner.

I find an empty spot on the sofa in between Hart and Marco. Hart snakes an arm around me and eliminates any space between us. Laying the back of my head on the side of his chest, I relax, feeling a little lightheaded from the alcohol. My fingers lazily draw figure eights on Hart’s thigh.

“Do you like football?” Marco asks, taking my attention away from the television. Dallas is playing the Blazers, who are winning for once. Not that I keep track. I just know the little bit I’ve picked up here and there when I’ve been at Hart’s place and heard the guys talking.

“Not really.”

“What about baseball? Did Hart make you a fan yet?” Hart’s fingers drift over the back of my neck, making me shiver.

“I’m a fan of Hart.” I answer honestly. “I like going to his games and practices. It’s exciting. I like cheering for him.”

“Lauren loves screaming my name. Don’t you brujita?” Hart runs his nose up the side of my flushed cheeks. “Tan bonita. Tan rosita como tu panochita.”

“I know Spanish asshole. Deja de hablar así de mi hermana. No tengo ningún problema en golpearle la cara a mi mejor amigo.” Hart huffs a laugh.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing important.”

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“They’re fine Lauren. Nothing to worry about,” Marco informs me. I’m not convinced. Something is going on.

I haven’t seen Hart this tense since the night at The Warehouse when Enzo was asking me all those questions about my past. He didn’t even know I would be bothered by Enzo’s questions, yet he still felt this need to protect me.

Marco and Enzo exchange glances then focus back on the television. I do my best to ignore the uneasiness swishing around in my stomach.

“Relájate, cariño. Esta bien." Hart runs his hand over my shoulder and down my arm.

“When is my next dance lesson?” Marco asks relieving some of the tension in the room.

“Did you impress your girlfriend? You need to show her something new now?” I joke with him.

“Marco doesn’t do girlfriends. At least not for extended periods of time. I think I’ve seen him with at least three different girls around campus in the past two weeks.”

“Jealous, Enzo? Need me to show you how it’s done?”

“I don’t need your tricks and schemes to get a girl. It’s called having a fucking personality.”

“Where are you going to find one of those?” I ask. Marco rolls on his side laughing. Hart silently laughs beside me. Even Enzo has the faintest smirk on his face.

“Oh my God,” Marco says in between chuckles. I didn’t think it was that funny. “She got you good bro. I knew I liked you, Lauren.”

“I have a personality.”

“Not a good one,” Hart counters.”

“You’re one to talk.” Hart tenses. I squeeze his thigh where my hand has been resting.

“I happen to love Hart’s personality.” I tilt my head back and kiss his jawline. Hart smirks back at Enzo. He makes it seem like it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks about him because he has me and I’m the only vote that counts.

The conversation drops as the guys focus on the football game. The Blazers’ new cornerback, Nick something, got an interception that put the team even further ahead.

Over the next couple of hours we chat, joke around, and sometimes we just sit in silence. I don’t know how it happened, but I think somewhere in the last two hours I became friends with Enzo and Marco.

I wasn’t sure about Enzo with his aggressive nature. I’ve realized he’s a lot like Hart. He hides the softer side of him underneath his rough exterior.

When we sit down for dinner, everyone is happy and laughing. It could be the company or maybe it’s because we’re all a little buzzed from Sylvie’s sangria. Either way, I like it.

The weirdness of being around Professor Morelli has worn off. He’s now just Enzo and Marco’s dad and a close family friend of the Harts.

We talk about the football game and the guy’s upcoming baseball season. Hart brags about what I’m doing with the kids. I want to hide away from the attention. I’m not used to the spotlight being on me like this.

It’s one thing to step into center stage and dance with a persona. It’s completely different to be sitting around a table with people you want to impress. I haven’t forgotten that I still need a letter of recommendation from Morelli.

After everyone is finished eating, I help Sylvie clear plates and get everything out for dessert. I’m not sure how anyone has room. I’m stuffed to the gills. I did spy some kind of chocolate pie that I think I can make room for.

It also isn’t Thanksgiving without a slice of my mom’s famous dessert. I missed having it all the years I was in foster care. A frozen pie from the food bank wasn’t the same as the homemade version my mom would whip up.

Nothing was the same without my mom.

“Lauren what kind of pie is this again?” Sylvie asks as she places the pie I baked on the table.

“Pumpkin and apple.” Professor Morelli and I answer at the same time.

“It’s my mom’s recipe,” I say warily.

“Gemma never could pick a favorite flavor.”

“How do you know my mom’s name?” My eyes dart around the table to see if anyone else is shocked by him saying her name. It seems I’m the only one caught off guard.

“What’s going on? Why is everyone so quiet? Hart?” I look at my boyfriend who is seconds from either punching a wall or whisking me out of the room. “Someone better start talking.” I turn back to Morelli. “I’ll ask again. How do you know my mom’s name?”

“I met your mom over twenty years ago at a little diner in Seattle.” I can’t breathe. This can’t be right. He has to be confusing her with someone else. “I was so distracted by my work I didn’t even look up at her when she greeted my table.

“When Gemma came back with my coffee, she held it hostage until I made eye contact. Your mother was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.” He looks at his wife and offers her a gentle smile which she returns.

Victoria knows about my mom too? And whatever relationship she had with Morelli?

“She was a spitfire, but so kind. Gemma was easy to love.”

Why is he talking about her like this? He’s married. Hart places a palm on my leg to stop it from bouncing.

Everyone at the table watches me intently. Are they waiting for me to run? To scream? I’m close to both. My professor was in love with my mom? What does it have to do with me?

“I was on assignment in Seattle for six months and well, one thing led to another.”

“Why are you telling me this? I don’t understand.” My eyes start to water, my flesh feels hot under the surface, breathing is getting difficult.

“When I left Seattle, I did it with the intention of coming back to Gemma. I loved her very much. Life had other plans.” His gaze strays to Victoria and Enzo. For some reason Enzo looks guilty. “As happy as I was to be having a baby, I didn’t want to hurt Gemma.” No. No. No. No. He isn’t saying what I think he’s saying.

“Respirar cariño,” Hart whispers. “You need to breathe.” Looking at Hart, with tears welling in my eyes, I take a deep breath along with him.

“I explained to her the situation. Gemma understood. She didn’t want to interfere with my new family.” He clears his throat before continuing. “I returned to Seattle for another assignment. I asked if I could see her again. Explain everything in person.” Morelli stares at his plate full of my mom’s pie. His hands are gripping his linen napkin so hard he’s likely to rip it apart.

“She wasn’t sure it would be a good idea. I didn’t stop asking until she agreed. I needed the closure.” A tear rolls down his cheek. I don’t think I’ve seen a grown man cry before. “I showed up at her apartment and there you were. My daughter.”

I inhale a sharp breath, my body shaking. Staring down at my hands, I try to make sense of everything. How can this be true? My head is swimming with questions that I’m not sure I want to know the answers to.

One question that keeps beating hard against my chest is, why didn’t you love me enough to stay?

“I don’t know how else to say this, but I’m your father.” I’m shaking my head before he finishes the sentence.

“No. I’m sorry but I don’t have one of those.” Morelli flinches at my harsh words. I don’t care. It’s been twenty-two years and I’ve never heard from him. How come I never knew who he was? Hart rubs a hand down my back and for some reason that makes me even angrier.

He knew. They all knew. I was invited here tonight. Wined and dined and left to have my entire world implode in front of me. Hart could have told me. He could have warned me. I feel so betrayed. I feel so alone. Again.

“I need to leave.” I stand from my chair. I’m feeling suffocated in this large room.

“I’ll take you,” Hart says, standing with me.

“No.” I close my eyes and swallow hard. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.” Hart’s eyes drop to the floor. “I need to be alone. I need space. I-I-I can’t do this right now. Please.” I hate saying that, but right now I don’t want comfort and I don’t want to be around Hart.

“I’ve got it,” Enzo says. “Come on. I’ll bring you home.” I nod in agreement. Although I don’t really want to be alone in a car with Enzo either.

Hart cups my face in his hands. My eyes close, shedding the tears that were trapped below the surface. “Lo siento. Te amo," he whispers with his forehead pressed against mine. His regret and love wash over me. I love him so much but I’m too angry to tell him right now.

I break away from Hart and follow Enzo toward the front door. I hate that I’m leaving without saying anything to Sylvie. I know if I do, she will hold me in her arms and offer me comfort I’m not sure I’m willing to accept.

“Alessa wait.” I stop in my tracks. No one has called me that in years. A chair scrapes across the floor. “Alessa,” Morelli repeats my former name and I glare at him. “Lauren,” he corrects himself, but it does nothing to alter my mood.

“If you change your mind, I would love nothing more but to have you back in my life.” His sincerity is almost too much. With a slight nod, I turn on my heel and walk away without a word or second thought.

Enzo and I silently get into his car and buckle up in our seats. There is a weird energy flowing through me. I’m agitated, uncertain, and maybe a little restless. The idea of sitting in the car for the thirty-minute drive to campus with Enzo makes me sick.

“Can you take me to Sydney’s? She lives close, right?” I ask, not taking my eyes off my window.

“Sure.” I didn’t think I wanted to be near anyone. The promise of seeing Sydney and having someone to talk to who hasn't been lying to me makes me feel a shred of relief.

“Don’t be mad at Hart,” Enzo requests. “Dad wanted to be the one to tell you. He asked us to stay quiet. Trust me. Hart wanted to tell you.” I’m sure. I try to think back over the last few weeks and our interactions.

Was there ever a moment when I thought he wanted to tell me? I can’t pinpoint anything. Hart isn’t one to wear his emotions on his sleeve. He’s always been good at masking his feelings, but I know him.

He was put in a difficult situation and picking a side couldn’t have been easy for him. It doesn’t make him not choosing me hurt any less.

We pull into Sydney’s driveway, and I unbuckle my seatbelt before he even has the car in park. “Wait. Can you just…wait a minute. Please, Lauren.” I freeze and wait for Enzo to say something else.

Enzo reaches over me to the glove compartment. He shuffles through a few papers and fishes out a couple of photographs.

“Give him a chance. Hear his side of the story. I know…” He pauses and takes in a breath. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.” His eyes burn into my profile. “But dad had a hard time too. He had to give you up. We all did.” With blurry vision Enzo drops three photographs in my lap.

One is a much younger Morelli holding a baby. I’m guessing I’m the baby. Another is a photo of me around two or three with a little boy the same age. Enzo, my brother.

I glance at Enzo. He confirms my guess with a warm smile. I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. The last photo is the three of us. Me, Morelli, and Enzo.

I don’t remember them. I don’t remember any of this. My mom had mentioned being in a love with a man, but there were never any details. She pretty much stopped talking about him altogether by the time I was seven. And when I turned eight, she was gone.

“We only came to see you a few times. Dad, he traveled a lot for work.” Enzo says the word dad as if he’s my dad too. He’s not. A few photos don’t make someone a father. “After Marco was born, we weren’t able to get back to see you. Then…” his voice trails off.

Then my mom died, and no one cared enough to come get me.

“Thanks for the ride.” I hand him back the photos. I don’t want them.

“Please, keep them.” I snatch the photos from his hand and exit the car.

Nash opens the door when I knock. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?” I shake my head. The tears are already starting to form again. Nash looks toward the driveway and notices Enzo. “Syd’s upstairs. I’m going to chat with Enzo.”

I fly upstairs. Once I get to Syd’s door I knock softly. “Come in.” I open the door and let myself in. I barely get over the threshold before she gets off her bed and is holding me in her arms. “What happened?”

She ushers me back to her bed and we crawl in and cuddle just like we always have over the years. I’m about to start telling her about Morelli and feeling betrayed by Hart when I realize I need to start from the beginning.

Syd needs to know about Seatle, my mom, foster care, all of it. By the time I’m finished sharing my life story we are both crying and clinging to each other.

“I can’t believe Marco and Enzo are your brothers. I tried to set you up with them. What if you ended up kissing one of them?” She cringes. For some reason, this makes me laugh. It’s just so Syd.

“Thanks, I needed that. I honestly can’t believe we’re related too.”

“What are you going to do?” She flips through the photos Enzo gave me.

“Nothing. There’s nothing for me to do.”

“Lauren,” she scolds me. “They’re your family.”

“No, they’re not. I don’t know them.”

“But you could.”

“I don’t know.”

“Enzo and Marco are great guys. I’ve grown up with them.” Her words bring on a new wave of sadness. Sydney got what I didn’t. She got to spend every day getting to know two people who were supposed to be mine.

“I’m so sorry Lauren.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. Do you think I could borrow your car? I need to be alone for a while.”

“Of course. I’ll get Nash to drive me back to campus to pick it up later. Text me or call if you need something. You can come back and spend the rest of the weekend with me. You’re always welcome here. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. I really did win the lottery with you.” After giving Sydney one more hug, I roll off her bed.

She passes me the photos. “Promise me you’ll think about letting them in. Everyone should get the opportunity to have you in their life.” I sniffle and hold back tears. I’m so tired of crying today.

Driving around Montgomery, I don’t even realize where I’m going. I feel completely lost. The day’s events run through my head and my heart. Before I know it, I’m parking the car, shutting off the engine, and very grateful I have Sydney’s keys.

24

HART

She left.

Lauren left without me.

I don’t blame her. I knew she would need time to process. I didn’t expect her to accept Alessandro as her father and carry on with the day as if this information didn’t disrupt everything she’s ever known. She’s been hurting for too long. My heart broke seeing her with tears streaming down her face. So hurt by everyone. By me.

“I should have said something,” I announce to the room.

“I needed to be the one to tell her. She’s my daughter.”

“Yeah, well she’s my everything and she just walked out the door.”

“Be patient, mijo. Lauren needs time to wrap her head and heart around everything she learned today.”

“And if she doesn’t forgive me.” The mere thought has me rubbing out the stabbing pain in my chest.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m the one she hates right now. I’m the one she can’t even look at.” Morelli pushes away from the table.

“Can you blame her? You didn’t come for her. You left her to fend her herself. She was left with no one.”

“You don’t know the whole story, Hart. You also can’t make me feel guiltier than I already do. I didn’t know about Gemma. I was in another country. After I spent time at home with Victoria and the boys, I went to visit Alessa.”

“What do you mean? What happened when you went back to Seattle?”

“I went to the diner to check in with Gemma. She wasn’t answering her phone, which usually meant she was busy working. On my way to the diner, I saw Alessa. She was walking inside with a man. I assumed they were meeting up with her mom. I thought he was her stepdad. I didn’t want to get in the way of that. She looked so happy.”

“How old was she?”

“I don’t know eleven, maybe twelve. I hadn’t been in touch with Gemma for years. It looked like their lives were moving forward without me.” His tone is laced with regret. My head drops realizing the timing of everything.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this. I could be wrong, but Lauren said she never went to the diner much after her mom died. Except this one time.” I pause. Not sure if I should continue.

“Just tell me. I’m going to get the full story one way or another.”

“You should have gotten the whole story fifteen years ago,” I snap.

“James,” my dad scolds me this time.

“No, Stephen. He’s right. I should have. There are a lot of things I should have done. I live with that pain every day. My little girl should have been with me. I sacrificed my own happiness so she could have hers,” he says with a punch to his chest.

“Yeah well, you should have asked more questions because that man was her foster dad. He took Lauren out for ice cream because he was saying goodbye. That was the same day he dropped her off at the group home.”

Everyone in the room reacts to this information. Mostly in curse words and tears. My mom excuses herself from the table. I know she is going to busy herself in the kitchen. She can’t sit still when she’s upset. My mom loves Lauren as her own. She feels connected to her in ways I don’t even understand.

“Dad,” Marco says, breaking the silence that has blanketed the room. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have. I should have asked questions. Fuck!” His fist pounds into the table rattling all the dishes. “It’s my job to ask questions and I just walked away.” Morelli’s broken eyes meet mine. “I need to see her. I need to talk to Lauren and explain everything. You have to get her to agree to see me.”

“You do remember she isn’t talking to me right now either.”

“She will,” my father chimes in.

“If she does.” God, I hope she does. “I’m on Lauren’s side. I will support her and what she decides to do. Even if that means not having a relationship with you.”

“I guess I can’t ask for more than that.”

“For what it’s worth. There’s nothing Lauren wants more than a family and a place to belong. My mom is right. We need to be patient with her.” I can barely believe these words are coming out of my mouth. Patient? Maybe I can be that, but give her space? No, that is something I won’t agree to.

The front door opens, and Enzo enters the dining room. He’s back quicker than I thought he would be. Did Lauren change her mind? I glance behind him hoping Lauren is following him into the room.

“She’s not here. I dropped her off at Syd’s.”

“How is she?” Morelli asks.

“Angry. Sad. Mainly quiet.”

“Syd will help her,” I say. I wish it was me she ran to. I can only blame myself for that. Sydney has been her rock and safe place for the past few years. It will be good for Lauren to finally tell her everything about her life before Newhouse. She’s been so worried about losing Syd.

Lauren has no idea how many people love and care for her. “I’ll pick her up in an hour or so.”

“I don’t know man. She acted like she didn’t want to be around any of us.”

“Too bad for her. She doesn’t get that option with me.” I go where she goes. She doesn’t have to talk to me, but I’ll be damned if I leave her alone after all this. I’ve already failed her by not telling her everything the moment I found out.

“Hart.”

“What, Marco? Say whatever you want. You’ll be wasting your breath. I’m going to pick her up and take her home.”

“I just think we need to do what’s best for Lauren.” I scoff.

“Why start now, Marco? You haven’t been doing what’s best for Lauren for over a decade.” My eyes meet Morelli’s. My words are meant for him, and he knows it.

“You don’t know the whole story.” Morelli’s excuses do little to quiet the rage I feel over Lauren being abandoned.

“But I know you. I know you don’t stop until you know all the facts. I know you don’t give up easily. But you gave up on her.” Morelli hangs his head in shame. “You stopped digging. You let her go. I won’t make the same mistake.”

I’ve had about all I can take of this conversation. I’ve said what I needed to. Now I need to see Lauren. My body is feeling itchy with the need to hold her and make sure she is okay.

I begin to say my goodbyes. My dad hugs me hard. “Call if you need something. Say goodbye to your mom. I’m sure she has food packed up for you by now.” He’s reluctant to let me go. Usually, I stay at home the whole weekend. I can’t do that without Lauren here.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

Thank you for accepting me as your own.

Thank you for never giving up on me when he did.

Thank you for loving me.

I didn’t realize until this moment how often I took his love and encouragement for granted. I hope one day I can tell him.

I start to walk toward the kitchen when Morelli speaks, stopping me in my tracks. “I’m glad she has you James. You’re a good man. I couldn’t ask for anyone better to love her.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. If everyone gets what they want, we will all be a family one day.”

The drive to Sydney’s house is quick. I could make the trip with my eyes closed I’ve been here so many times growing up. Mostly on my bike. Marco and Enzo live two streets over and Koa lives around the corner.

I don’t even knock on the door. I let myself in and make my way toward the living room at the back of the house. Nash is sitting with his dad watching highlights from the early football game.

“Hey man, sorry to interrupt. I’m here for Lauren.” Nash swivels his head toward me. His brows furrow together, and his lips flatten. He gets up and tells his dad he’ll be right back.

I follow him into the kitchen. “Enzo and Marco are Lauren’s brothers? What the hell is going on? Were you going to tell me?” I don’t want to get into this now. I want to get Lauren and take her home. I want to talk to her right now, not Nash.

“It wasn’t my story to tell. I didn’t even tell Lauren,” I explain. Nash shakes his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I know. Is she upstairs with Syd?”

“She left about thirty minutes ago.” Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have let my mom trap me in a conversation. “Syd let her take her car. I’m not sure where she went though. Lauren didn’t say much when she left. You realize this is crazy, right?”

“I do.”

“What are you going to do?” Grovel, beg, plead.

“Whatever it takes.”

I question Syd to see if she has any idea where Lauren was heading. She told me Lauren wanted to be alone. With very little information to go on, I leave asking them to text me if they hear from her.

Lauren could be anywhere, but she also doesn't like change. I don’t think she would stray far from the places she usually goes to.

I’m going to check Lauren’s dorm first.

The campus is deserted with only a few cars in the parking lot. I go inside anyway. Maybe she parked somewhere else and walked for whatever reason. After knocking a few times with no answer, I use her key and let myself in.

The living room is dark and empty. Her coconut scent lingers in her room, but it is just as empty as the rest of the dorm.

Did she drive out to her trailer? She was supposed to spend time with Manny and Carlos tomorrow. Maybe she headed over there early? I pull out my phone to send her a quick text. I don’t have much faith that she’ll answer me at the moment.

ME

Are you okay? Where are you? Are you at your trailer?

Please Lauren. I need to see you.

It’s a thirty-minute drive out to Royal Oaks. I run through scenarios on what I’m going to say, and nothing feels right. Apologizing doesn’t seem like enough considering the life altering news she just received. Apologizing makes everything about me when it’s only ever been about her.

Her driveway is empty, but the light is on inside. I text Carlos and ask him if he’s at Lauren’s place. I should have done that from her dorm.

LOS

Yeah, I’m here with Manny.

ME

Did something happen at your place?

LOS

The usual. Mom drank too much box wine, and they started arguing. So much to be thankful for this year.

ME

Sorry Los. I’m outside if you want to come hang with me at my place.

The curtains move on the front window. I guess he didn’t believe me.

LOS

We’re good. I’ve got to work in the morning. Why are you creeping outside?

ME

I’m looking for Lauren. I’m guessing she isn’t home.

LOS

No. She texted earlier but I haven’t heard from her since.

ME

Let me know if you do?

LOS

Sure

ME

Thanks. If you need anything, call me.

There’s only one other place I can think of Lauren going and that’s the rec center. If Lauren needed to clear her head, I can’t think of a better place for her to do it than the rec center to dance it out.

Driving through the parking lot, it is even more desolate than campus. No cars. No lights. No Lauren. I check my phone to make sure I didn’t miss a text from her. I didn’t. Damn it. ¿Dónde estás, cariño?

There’s nowhere else to go but home. I’m frustrated and tired when I park my car. Someone on our street must be having a party because the only spot opened is one of our two reserved spots we get allotted to us.

The house is quiet. Wyatt is a few hours away visiting his family at their farm. Koa is either still with his family or went over to Nash’s to watch the late game.

I flip the hall light on and walk up the stairs to my room. The light from the hall filters through the door as I open it, putting a spotlight on my bed. I inhale a sharp breath when I notice Lauren buried beneath the covers.

Closing my eyes, I take a few short breaths of relief. She’s here. She came to me. I slip off my shoes. Then get undressed down to my boxers. Carefully, I lift the covers and slide into bed. I don’t want to wake her, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to pull her close to me.

“Mi dulce cariño." Lauren flips around in my arms and hooks her bare leg in between mine. That’s when I realize she is only wearing one of my shirts. Mierda. Lauren starts to shake and wet tears hit my chest breaking me out of my lustful thoughts. “Shhh… cariño. Te tengo a ti. Estoy aquí. No me voy a ir a ninguna parte.”

Lauren burrows herself further into my body. I welcome her warmth. It’s a reminder that she’s really here with me. I run a hand up and down her back hoping it will calm her enough to get her back to sleep.

“I love you James,” Lauren whispers against my chest. “I couldn’t say it earlier. I just wanted you to know that.”

“I love you, cariño. I should have told you everything.”

Lauren lifts her head. Her eyes are red and puffy. I hate that she feels hurt and sad. I want to fix everything for her, but I can’t make this go away. I brush a few stray hairs off her face.

“It’s okay. I understand. I’m not mad. It’s just a lot.”

“Whatever you need. Whatever you want to do. I’m with you. Understand?” She nods and her shoulders drop as if knowing I’m on her side eases all the pressure she’s been feeling. I kiss her forehead. “I’m glad you’re here. I looked all over town for you.”

“You did?” This girl.

“Of course, I did. You weren’t answering my texts. I needed to know you were okay. It was killing me not being with you.”

“I turned my phone off. I didn’t know if they had my number. I’m not ready.” I nod in understanding.

“They get that. They want to be part of your life.”

“It isn’t that easy for me.”

“I know. Try to get some sleep.”

“Okay.” Lauren drops her head back on my chest. She’s so quiet I think she’s fallen asleep. Her body shakes and I lock my arms around her. “I have a dad. And brothers,” she murmurs into the dark room.

“Sí, cariño.”

Lauren stretches and arches her back, grinding her ass right over my cock. “Brujita,“ I grit out a warning. For what I’m not sure. I would love nothing more than to take her right now. I don’t know if she’s in the right headspace for that.

“Good morning,” she says sleepily.

“Buenos días, cariño.“ I pull her taut against me. Apparently, I enjoy tormenting myself.

Lauren wiggles. Loosening the hold I have on her. I guess I have my answer. She isn’t interested this morning. I don’t blame her. Her head must be spinning.

“What are you doing?” I ask when Lauren’s hands go under the covers, and she continues to squirm. Her legs kick around so much I have to clamp my forearm on the blankets to keep them from being pulled off me.

“Ah, got it!” She squeals, lifting her arm revealing a pair of lacy black underwear. Lauren Looks over her shoulder at me. “I need you. Please.”

“¿Quieres mi pito, brujita?” I strip out of my boxers and reach behind me to grab a condom and put it on. “Are you ready for me?” Lauren’s back is pressed against my chest. I reach around, teasing her inner thighs until I have her whimpering. “Sí.” I kiss Lauren’s shoulder as my fingers stretch and tease her. “Estas empapada para mi.”

I keep rubbing Lauren’s clit as I slowly enter her. It gets better and better every time we have sex. The first time I struggled to keep myself together. Slipping inside Lauren felt too good. I had to recite baseball stats at one point to keep myself from orgasming before she did. There was no way I was going to come before I felt her shatter around me.

Setting a leisurely pace, I glide easily in and out of Lauren in long strokes. Fuck, she feels incredible. My stomach is already starting to buzz. I move my hand to Lauren’s breasts and pinch her nipples. Lauren mewls and pushes her chest harder into my palm.

I could probably get her to orgasm just by playing with her tits. I’m not bragging. She’s so sensitive and responsive. Lauren rotates her hips in a way that has me cursing. “I’m so close Hart. Don’t stop.”

Lauren quickens the pace, grinding herself on my dick. “Eres tan caliente.“ I can’t take my eyes off the spot where we’re connected. Sweat is building up on my forehead where my hair has fallen over my face. I push my hair back, then place my hands back on my girl.

Her skin is also slick with sweat. I run a stream of kisses and bites across her neck and shoulders, tasting her salty skin. With each swipe of my tongue, she squeezes my cock harder finding her release. “Fuck.“ I can’t hold out any longer. I let go with her name on my lips.

I can’t move. I don’t think Lauren can either. Our chests rise and fall together. I need to catch my breath for a moment. Then we can take a shower and go hang out with Manny and Carlos.

Lauren’s stomach growls cutting off my mental to do list. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Let’s get you fed and then we can go see the boys.”

“I’ve got the popcorn. You get the hot chocolate,” Lauren tells Carlos. “And Manny, go run to my closet and grab some blankets.”

We’ve spent most of the day decorating Lauren’s trailer for Christmas and now we are about to watch a Christmas movie.

The tree is half the size of the one I grew up decorating every year with my parents. The ornaments are a mixture of cheap balls from the dollar store and handmade. But I’ve never seen a tree I liked more. It has Lauren’s magic written all over it.

“This one is my favorite,” Lauren whispers to me as she places an ornament on the tree with three thumbprints painted on the front creating a snowman. On the back it has Manny’s name and is dated three years ago.

“It’s cute.” She nods.

“Manny made it in kindergarten. I didn’t really know him that well. I mean, I’d seen them around, but I was still keeping to myself. I had just moved back for winter break. He must have seen me hauling the tree from the trunk of my car.

“I had barely gotten it out of the box when there was a knock on my door. Manny told me he didn’t have a tree at home and wondered if he could hang his ornament on mine. I told him he was in luck because I didn’t have ornaments as pretty as this one. Next thing I know, Carlos was back with a handful of ornaments they made at school over the years.”

Carlos takes a seat in the oversized chair. Lauren directs me to the far end of the couch. I’m about to protest when she snuggles up next to me. Manny sits on the floor in front of us. I raise an eyebrow.

“He’s not allowed on the couch with hot chocolate.” Carlos answers my silent question.

“I only spilled it one time,” Manny defends.

“Because now you sit on the floor by the table." Lauren leans forward and muses the hair on the top of his head.

By the end of the second movie all the popcorn has been eaten and both boys are asleep. Carlos is stretched out in the chair still. Manny is laid across the couch with his head in Lauren’s lap.

Lauren’s head rests against my chest. I absentmindedly run my hand up and down her arm. The glow of the Christmas tree is the only light in the room.

I feel like I’m being visited by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. I can see this future clear as day. Lauren, me, and our kids. Decorating the tree with ornaments painted with little fingerprints. Hot chocolate and movies.

Lauren tilts her head toward mine. I eagerly kiss her lips.

Today has been a good distraction for Lauren. I’m waiting for everything that happened yesterday to rise back to the surface. I won’t bring it up or push her. I just hope she doesn’t shut me out. Because being here like this with her, I want it more than anything.

25

LAUREN

Winter break has flown by. The new semester started this morning. Hart and I spent most of our time off at my trailer playing house. We stayed up late every night watching true crime, talking, and having sex.

Delicious, mind-blowing sex. The way he says all those dirty things to me in Spanish. Throw in how his dark eyes that practically eat me alive. I’m a mess. I’m this crazed wanton slut. A role I’m not used to playing, but here I am nailing it.

Hart made breakfast most mornings, which was an absolute delight. Apparently, he cooks shirtless. I shamelessly drooled over his hard packed muscle while he whipped together a simple breakfast of eggs and toast.

It’s official. I want Hart shirtless in my kitchen every morning. I want midnight fridge raids and sharing ice cream straight from the carton. I want to reach across the bed and feel Hart beside me every night. I want a family. I want...

I inhale a deep breath to fend off this wave of anxiety taking over my body.

I want…

I want my brothers in my life.

I want my dad.

Letting out another heavy breath, I pull into a parking spot near the front of the coffee shop and shut off my car.

I don’t know what to expect today. As it is, it took me almost two weeks to ask Hart what happened after I left with Enzo on Thanksgiving. He filled me in on the back history Morelli shared.

I suppose his story makes sense. It would explain why I don’t remember him or Enzo. If I’m doing the math right, they would have stopped visiting around the time I started kindergarten.

The coffee shop off campus has a steady flow of customers rushing in and out with their afternoon pick me-up. I search the large picture windows for Morelli. He’s probably not here yet. I’m a few minutes early. I figured I might need time to compose myself, but now I just want to rip the bandage off.

Here goes nothing.

I exit my car and take quick steps to the front door of the coffee shop. The cold January air has enough of a bite I’m fastening my coat around my neck.

Inhaling the comforting aroma of coffee beans and vanilla, my body relaxes. My eyes roam the room until they land on a man with dark brown hair and the same hazel eyes as mine.

Morelli has one hand on his coffee and the other is drumming on the table nervously. I take tentative steps toward him. You can do this. It’s just a conversation.

When he notices me walking in his direction, he stands to greet me. His arms hang stiffly at his sides and his hands flex as if he’s holding himself back from hugging me.

“Hello,” he says, and takes his seat. I remove my coat and fold it before placing it on the booth seat.

“Hi,” I say, sliding into my seat.

“It should still be hot. I ordered it when you pulled into the parking lot.” Morelli grins and slides a coffee in my direction.

I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the heat warm them up. “Thank you.” I cautiously take a sip. I almost moan it tastes so delicious. Just the way I like it. How did he know?

“Hart.” He answers my unspoken question. “I asked him what your usual is. I wanted to earn a few brownie points.” I nod acknowledging him. “I always thought someone knowing your coffee order was a sign that they loved you. Or at least cared enough to remember it.”

I know Hart loves me and it isn’t because he knows my coffee order. Although it is sweet every time he brings me coffee before class. I think he’s finally learned I’m a lot nicer in the mornings after a few cups of coffee.

“Is that how you knew my mom loved you?” The questions slips past my mental filter. I’m as shocked as he is by it. “Sorry.”

Morelli lets out a long sigh. “Don’t be. That’s why we’re here. I want to answer all your questions, Lauren.” He winces slightly. “It’s going to take me awhile to get used to calling you that.”

I want to tell him it’s going to take me awhile to get used to a lot of things. He can deal with this one minor change.

The symphony of a busy coffee shop fills the silence between us. He takes a long sip of his coffee. “To answer your question, no. That isn’t how I knew your mother loved me.” He spins his cup in his hands, lost in a trance.

“I felt it. When she looked at me a certain way. I just knew she did. I wasn’t an easy guy to love, but she did it anyway.” When his eyes land on mine I have to look away.

I straighten in my seat. “What happened? Why did you leave her? You crushed her. There was never anyone else.” His face drains of a little color with this information. I don’t know if it’s because he wanted to be with her. Is he sad he wasn’t?

That can’t be right because it’s obvious he loves Victoria. Or maybe it’s because he thought my mom was with someone else and had he known the truth things would have turned out differently for all of us.

“I can assume Hart told you part of the story.” I nod.

“Why didn’t you stay with her?” With me. I tamp down the wave of emotion that is already threatening to wash away the protective walls I’ve built around my heart.

“When I left Alabama the first time, Tori and I had broken up a few days earlier. She broke up with me because she didn’t want to do long distance. We spent my last night together and the next day I was in Seattle.

“I met Gemma my second day in the city. We slowly became friends. Then more.” He pauses and I silently urge him to continue with his story. “After my assignment was over, I left with the intention of packing up my life in Alabama and moving to Seattle permanently.” My head drops.

That clearly didn’t happen. “But you didn’t. You didn’t come back for us. For me." I stare at my hands in my lap. My fingers are red, almost purple from gripping them so hard.

“When I arrived in Alabama, Tori told me she was pregnant with Enzo. I did what I thought a man should do.” Morelli’s voice cracks. Raw emotion is a live wire on his face. “I asked Tori to move to Seattle. I wanted to get her a place close by.

“I wanted to be with Gemma. I loved her. I wanted a future with her.” I’m afraid to speak. I don’t want to interrupt his confession. But the need to call him out for being a liar is on the tip of my tongue. If he really felt all these things, he would have been with us.

“Tori wouldn’t move. I called your mom and explained everything. She agreed I should stay. She let me go.” I shake my head. I don’t believe she simply rolled over and let him leave like that.

“When you asked her to move to Alabama, she didn’t want to come?” Guilt blankets his face.

“I never asked.”

“Of course, you didn’t.” Unbelievable. “And when she told you she was pregnant too. What happened then? Enzo and I are only a few months apart. She was pregnant when you left. I guess we weren’t needed anymore now that you had a new family.” I shake my head.

“It hurt when my foster dad left me to start a new family. But you? My blood. That cuts deep.” Morelli jerks his head back.

“Gemma never told me about you. I didn’t know you existed until I came back for work months after you were born. Tori and I weren’t even together during that time. It took us years to become a family again.” I scoff.

“Save your bullshit. Marco is only a year younger than me. You may not have been a couple, but you were obviously sleeping together often enough to add another child to the mix. You were starting a family by the looks of things.

“Meanwhile my mom is working two jobs and doing everything on her own.” The words feel like fire on my tongue. I’m so angry.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to make anything better. Sorry doesn’t change my childhood. Sorry doesn’t bring back my mom. Sorry is pathetic. I don’t want your apologies.”

“What can I do? How can I make this better? I want to be a part of your life. Now that I have you back. I can’t lose you again.” I won’t correct him and tell him he doesn’t have me.

I blow out a breath. I’m not a hateful person. I’ve worked hard to stay positive all these years. I don’t want to hold grudges. It doesn’t help me move forward if I hold on to everything that could have been.

What do I want now? As many mistakes as he’s made, I do want him in my life. “Prove it,” I say. “Prove to me that you want me in your life, and I will let you in mine too.”

“I can do that. Thank you.” We sit silently for a moment drinking our coffees. I should probably get going. I have to meet up with Sydney. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” He can ask. Doesn’t mean I have to answer.

“The short story you submitted for your scholarship. It wasn’t fiction, was it?”

“No. It was my story.”

“And the part about the little girl finding her mom.” His voice trails off. He can’t even finish the sentence.

“True.” Morelli swallows hard and his eyes brim with tears.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

“However bad you think it would be for a little girl to find her mom not breathing in her bed multiply it by a million.”

I’ll never forget the morning I left for school thinking my mom was already at work. Only to come home and find her sleeping permanently in her bed.

“She always left for work before I got up for school. Sometimes our neighbor would come over and help me get ready, but I was pretty grown up for my age.

“I got dressed, made my lunch, and walked out of the apartment to the bus stop. It was the same routine I did every morning. I didn’t think twice about it.” I take a sip of my coffee and wash down all the sadness and guilt.

“That wasn’t even the worst part.” I huff a laugh. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. Once the paramedics and police showed up, that was it. They took my mom in one direction, and I went in the other.” I remember what I told Hart about that day. “And all I wanted was you. But you weren’t there. I didn’t even know you, but it was the idea of you.” That was the gut punch that sends his tears spilling over the edge.

“I remember thinking ‘if only my dad were here’ but you weren’t even real," I whisper. “That night I went to bed in a strange room with nothing but the clothes I could fit in my backpack and two pictures I managed to snag. I had nothing and no one.”

“I wish I could have been there for you Lauren. I really do. You have to understand. I was out-”

“Out of the country. I know. I believe you when you say you hoped things were different. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” He nods and exhales a deep breath.

We sit quietly for a few minutes finishing our coffees. He gets distracted by someone in line and I take a moment to admire his profile. Hart said I have my mother’s nose.

Looking at Morelli, he’s wrong. I’m Alessandro Morelli’s twin. We have the same nose and chin. While my features are softer and more feminine, there is no denying our similarities.

All my life I’ve wondered if I looked like my dad and now, I know. This new knowledge settles something in me. As hurt as my mom was by him leaving her, I think she would be happy that we’ve reunited.

There’s still so much I don’t understand. Why didn’t she tell him about me? Why didn’t she fight for him? For their relationship? I know she loved him. It was obvious in the aftermath and all the warnings she gave me about men.

If it were me, and I was in a similar situation with Hart? I would fight. You don’t feel a love this intense and let it go. What was going through her head?

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything, Lauren.”

“Did you have anything to do with my scholarship?” This has been bothering me since I found out Professor Morelli was my father. I don’t know how I feel about being handed a free ride because of who I’m connected to.

I worked hard to earn my scholarship to Newhouse. If he somehow used his position at the school to get me here…

“No. I didn’t even read your entrance essay until after I saw you in my class at the beginning of last semester. Every year I looked for Alessa Wilson. She never showed up.” He turns the empty mug in his hands.

“When I finally realized your mom had passed and you weren’t living with a stepfather, I didn’t handle the news well. It sent me to a very dark place. I started drinking heavily. I quit working.” Morelli pushes his empty mug out of his hands as if it’s a painful reflection of how hollow he felt.

“It was Stephen who pulled me out of it. He reminded me of the kind of father I wanted to be. I was determined to be there for the boys and for you.” His eyes catch mine. The remorse is so intense it punches me in the chest.

“I tried to find you, but you were ‘lost in the system’ as they say. Without having any legal right to you, they did very little to help me track you down. I did the only thing I could.

“I went to every high school in the county and made sure they knew about the scholarships available at Newhouse. I had just finished my first year teaching. I knew I would be here for the foreseeable future. I hoped…” his voice trails off and he shakes his head slightly. “I prayed for the first time in years that you would see what Newhouse had to offer and would want to go to school here.

“So no, Lauren, you earned your scholarship on your own. You are a talented writer. The piece you turned in on Hart is just another example of how brilliant you are.”

The compliment does something funny to my heart. It isn’t the praise of a professor but pride of a father. He is proud of me, and his admiration is something I wanted at the beginning of the school year, but I didn’t know I needed it like this.

“Thank you.” The words feel too simplistic after everything we’ve talked about today. However, saying more makes me feel too vulnerable. I’m not ready for that either.

We talk a little while longer about my classes this semester. He asks about Carlos, Manny, and the rest of the kids but I don’t say much. That’s another part of me I’m not ready to share with him.

I steer him back to safer topics. After giving me a few tips on my résumé we say our goodbyes and make plans to meet up again next week. I guess this is going to be a regular thing.

“Shouldn’t you be at practice?” I question Hart, who is casually leaning against the driver side of my car. A Newhouse baseball beanie covers his head.

“Hola, cariño,“ Hart greets me and leans down to capture my lips with his. “I wanted to check on you first. How did it go?” My head hits the center of his chest, and he wraps his arms around me.

I let his strength wash over me and stabilize my emotions. “I don’t think I will ever stop feeling like I was cheated out of time with him, Enzo, and Marco. Every story you or Sydney tell me, I’m reminded of what I’ve missed out on.”

Hart gathers the flyaway hairs that frame my face and tucks them behind my ear. His fingers brush over my cheek, making my skin tingle below the surface.

There is a sadness in his eyes that mimics my own. “But it went well. I’m happy I saw him today. I’m happy he’s in my life again.”

“I’m glad you have your familia again too, cariño. If the stories upset you-”

“No.” I cut him off. Slipping my hands under his sweatshirt, I explore the warm skin on his back. His muscles flex under my touch. “I want you to tell me about your childhood. I love hearing the stories about you and Enzo terrorizing the neighborhood.” Hart grunts.

“Maybe next time, you can come with me. If you want.”

Hart shakes his head. “When will you learn?” He rests his forehead against mine. “I always want to be where you are.”

“Maybe I like hearing you say it.” I tease.

“Oh yeah? Do you want me to tell you every day that I want you next to me? That I don’t want to go one day without seeing your beautiful face.” His knuckle strokes down my cheek with the weight of a feather. “That I want to go to bed every night with you in my arms. Because I will, cariño. I will remind you every day how much I want you.”

Hart pulls my body against his so I can feel exactly how much he wants me. “Yes,” I moan, when he grasps my hips and rolls my body against his. I don’t know if I’m answering him or asking for more. More. I definitely want more.

“Me vuelves salvaje, cariño. No puedo esperar para llevarte a mi casa esta noche y mostrarte lo tanto que te deseo.“ Hart continues to whisper words to me in Spanish as his lips leave burn marks up and down my neck.

I don’t need to understand what he’s saying to know that whatever it is, I’m here for it.

26

HART

I look up into the stands for the hundredth time in the last five minutes. Lauren still isn’t here. She texted me over an hour ago that she was on her way to pick up Carlos and Manny for my game.

Standing in front of the dugout, I make eye contact with Alessandro. He’s just as concerned as I am.

Lauren and her dad have come a long way from the first time they met up for coffee.

It’s been almost two months, and he has woven himself into her life. Lauren set a challenge for Morelli to prove he wanted to be a part of her life and he stepped up to the plate.

He has dinner with us at least once a week either at my parent’s house or at his home with Victoria. I thought things with Tori would be awkward, but it isn’t in Lauren’s nature to hold on to animosity.

Tori will never replace Lauren’s mom, but she has become a friend. I think Lauren is building that relationship more for her brothers than herself.

It’s still difficult to wrap my head around the fact that my best friends are my girlfriend’s brothers. Sometimes I wonder if I would have fallen for Lauren if I had grown up with her or if she would have just been Enzo’s little sister.

No, mi brujita would have enchanted me from the moment I laid eyes on her like she does now. Every time I see her, I fall in love with her even more. I wish she was here right now so I can tell her again just how much.

Where the fuck is she?

“Don’t be nervous about the scouts.” Coach Lawson slaps his hand on my shoulder. Scouts? I couldn’t care less about them right now.

I’m not the only player they are looking at today. They have their eyes on Wyatt, Koa, and a few guys on ASU. Enzo and Marco are both being heavily scouted as well.

“Hart? Did you hear me?” I shake my head. I didn’t realize Coach was still talking to me.

“I said that Morelli kid likes to hit to the left corner. Don’t let them get past you.” Like I would let Enzo have the satisfaction.

“No problem, Coach.”

“Is there something I need to know?” His eyes narrow on my face. I don’t think I could mask my concern over Lauren if I tried.

“My girlfriend isn’t here yet. She should have been here a half hour ago. I’m worried something is wrong.”

“Has she called?”

“No. She isn’t answering my texts or phone calls.”

“Did you do something to piss her off?” I glare at him.

“No.”

“The game starts in ten minutes. Go talk to your family. Have them find her and you get your head in the game.” I hate to break it to him, but my head won’t be anywhere near this game until I have eyes on Lauren.

I walk over to where my family is sitting and pop over the barrier wall. Morelli is standing in front of my parents and texting furiously on his phone.

“Have any of you heard from Lauren?” My eyes cast over the row where my mom sits between my dad and Sydney.

“No, but she’s still at the trailer park.” Syd passes me her phone. She has a map pulled up on the screen and Lauren’s face marks her GPS location.

“Something doesn’t feel right about this. It shouldn’t have taken her this long to pick up the boys.” Mierda! I hand Sydney her phone back.

“I’m going to get her,” I announce and turn back to the field to get my things.

“I’m going with you,” Morelli says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to.”

“She’s my daughter.” He pauses and grits his teeth. I recognize his struggle to formulate the right words as if it were my own. “I left her alone when she was in trouble before. I won’t ever do it again.” I nod, understanding completely. I’m glad to hear it. If Lauren is in trouble, she will be happy to see him show up for her.

“Meet me by my car. I need to let Coach Lawson know I’m leaving.” I sprint across the field, bumping into teammates as I go.

“Coach.” I interrupt him talking to one of our pitching coaches.

“Did you find your girlfriend? Everything okay?”

“No, sir. I need to leave.” He takes a step in my direction.

“You aren’t leaving over a girl,” he commands. My fingers flex at my sides. He better choose his next words wisely. “Your entire future hinges on this game.”

“I have no future without her!” I bark.

“Check your tone when you’re talking to me.”

“Sorry, sir. I’m wasting time. She could be in trouble. I need to leave now.”

“And what about your team? We need you on the field and at the plate. That Morelli kid is pitching.” He tips his head where Marco and Enzo are eavesdropping from their side of the field.

Neither of them misses the panic in my eyes. “I don’t think they will be a problem.” I say as Marco and Enzo walk over to us. “They’re her brothers. They won’t be playing either.”

Coach Lawson removes his cap and scrubs his hair roughly. “You realize what you’re sacrificing for this girl? Those scouts will not come back for a second look.”

“I understand, sir. This isn’t some girl. This is my future wife." He sighs. In understanding or frustration, I can’t tell.

“Go. I’ll talk to them.”

“Thank you.”

Koa and Wyatt catch me as I run to the parking lot. I don’t stop to explain. Marco yells something about Lauren being in trouble. That will have to be good enough for now.

“Took you long enough,” Alessandro says as I unlock my car. I don’t need the reminder. Every second feels like a tick closer to a bomb exploding.

I pass Morelli my phone. “Text Carlos. See if he answers. I tried earlier. He didn’t respond.” Los isn’t the most responsible person when it comes to charging his phone or keeping minutes on it.

“Anyone care to explain what’s going on with my sister?” Enzo asks.

“She isn’t here dumbass,” Marco informs him. “And she should be.”

“You are such a little shi-”

“Boys!” Alessandro roars silencing their bickering. “Lauren went to pick up Carlos and Manny.” Enzo curses. I’ve told him enough about their parents. He can connect the dots and understand why we are concerned about Lauren’s safety.

“I haven’t heard from her since she texted saying she was leaving for Royal Oaks. Syd tracked her on her phone. She made it to the trailer park but hasn’t made it out.” My hands choke the steering wheel.

It’s a thirty-minute drive without traffic to Royal Oaks. I chase every yellow light and push the speed limit getting us here in twenty.

“There,” Marco shouts and points out Lauren’s car. It’s parked on the side of the road a few trailers down from her place.

“What’s the plan?” Enzo asks as we exit the car and start walking up the gravel driveway.

“We knock. We get her and the boys out.” Sounds easy enough. Too easy. I knock on the door with Morelli by my side and Enzo and Marco behind us.

No response. I knock again. Harder this time. Enzo taps my shoulder and nods toward the window. The worn sheet covering the window moves slightly. Out of nowhere there is a loud scuffle behind the door.

“Marco, Enzo. One of you stay outside. If we aren’t out in three minutes, call the police,” Morelli instructs his boys. They wordlessly argue over who will be the odd man out. Marco loses.

Morelli pounds on the door. Seconds later, the door creaks open wide enough for a woman with stringy, brown hair to greet us exposing only half of her slight frame. “What do you want?” Her eyes are unable to focus on our faces.

“I’m looking for my girlfriend Lauren. Is she here?” There is a whimper from somewhere in the trailer. Lauren.

“No.” This woman, I’m guessing it’s the boy’s mom, attempts to close the door but Alessandro blocks it with his foot and forearm.

“Her car is outside.”

“It might be, but she’s not here. I would suggest you leave.” Another whimper sounds a little louder than before. My patience with this woman is dwindling at a rapid pace.

Not that I had any to begin with.

“Shut up bitch,” a man says from somewhere in the trailer. His voice is hushed, but rough and full of venom.

“You need to leave.”

“I don’t think so,” Morelli snarls and bulldozes his way past Manny’s mom.

I follow him and stop short absorbing the scene in front of me. Carlos is sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against the dirty cabinets with blood running down his cheek and lips.

Their mom, who put on a brave front when she answered the door, now cowers in the corner. She is covered in a rainbow of bruises. It’s hard to tell where one begins and the other ends.

Blood starts pounding in my ears and my breathing gets heavier when my eyes land on mi cariño. Lauren is standing guard in front of Manny. Fresh tears stream down her face. My fierce girl is trying hard to show her strength.

A man who is twice her size towers over her with a knife in his hand. I don’t know who he is, but it doesn’t matter.

He is a dead man.

“We don’t want any trouble. I’m here to pick up my daughter,” Morelli says as he slowly creeps closer to Lauren.

“This bitch?” He questions, snatching Lauren by the bicep and yanking her away from Manny. I make a move for him, but I’m stopped by Alessandro’s arm.

I growl like a caged animal. I want to rip his arm out of the socket for touching Lauren this way.

“She keeps putting her nose in our business. This girl is nothing but trouble.” Lauren winces in pain as he tightens the grip he has on her arm.

As much as it pisses me off that he’s manhandling her, I’m more concerned about the knife he’s holding carelessly in his other hand.

“I wouldn’t know. I just got her back in my life. Let me take her off your hands and you can deal with your family.”

Manny’s crying gets louder. That seems to irritate the bastard more. Carlos scoots over to Manny and pulls him into his arms. His face is nothing, but hard lines and hateful daggers pointed directly at his father.

We need to get them all out of here before this escalates. Hopefully the police are on their way. Maybe the threat of jail time will sober him up and bring him to his senses.

“I get it now.” He sneers down at Lauren. “You’ve got mommy and daddy issues. You can’t solve your problems so you thought you would create them for my family.” His words slur together, and spittle flies out of his mouth.

Lauren shakes her head. “I was taking them to the baseball game. That’s all.”

“Shut up. You are filling their head with foolish ideas. Yeah, boy.” He directs his words to Carlos but keeps a strong grip on Lauren. Her eyes connect with mine. I plead with her to stay strong and wait. I beg her to let me fight for her this time. She’s likely to kick him in the balls and get herself stabbed.

“I heard you on the phone. Talking about getting out of here. You don’t like this life I’ve given you?”

“Fuck. You,” Carlos spits.

“You disrespectful little shit,” he sneers at Carlos, before lunging toward him with the knife.

I don’t think. I act.

27

LAUREN

The television blares loudly on the other side of the door. I knock again. I sent a text letting Carlos know I was here, but he isn’t responding. I should have met them at my trailer.

I raise my hand to knock one more time when the door swings open. “What do you want?” Linda, Carlos and Manny’s mom asks with a hiccup. No surprise she’s been drinking.

“I’m here to pick up the boys. Can I come in?”

“Please. Be my guest.” I step into the living room. It’s the same size as mine but appears smaller with the buildup of newspapers and other clutter. She picks up a lit cigarette in one hand and a faded plastic cup in the other. “Can I get you a drink?” I shake my head.

This place is like one of my worst foster homes coming back to life to haunt me.

“No thank you. Are the boys ready?” She shrugs her shoulder. Then plops down on the couch clutching her cup of what I can only guess is cheap wine from the gas station around the corner. “You can check their room.” Linda twirls a finger pointing somewhere in the vicinity of the back room.

I walk down the dingy hallway. The walls are bare except for smoke residue and dirty handprints. Those almost make me smile. A reminder of the precious boys that live here. Then I remember they have to live here in this hell.

There is a shuffle behind the door and then quiet giggling. Manny reminds me so much of myself when I was his age. He feels the weight of everything, yet he manages to hold on to small remnants of joy.

I knock once before twisting the door handle a little. “Can I come in?” Their room is small with two twin mattresses taking up most of the floor. There is no frame or headboard. I should be grateful they have sheets and a pillow.

“Are you ready to go?” I’m anxious to get out of here. I think their dad is at work. I’ve only seen him once or twice from a distance. Both times he was drunk and belligerent. I’m not interested in a third encounter.

“Yeah, I need to get my shoes on.” Carlos hands me two of the baseball gloves Hart gave him. Hart had a warehouse of sports equipment in his parents’ garage. He let the boys raid it one day. They walked away with everything they needed to start their own little league team.

“Do you think Hart will hit a home run?” Manny asks.

“I’m sure he’s going to try.”

“He said he would.”

“Well, then I bet he will just for you. Come on. We need to get out of here before we’re late.”

“Can we get a hot dog? Nachos? A soda?” I laugh at Manny’s constant need to prioritize food.

“We’ll see. You won’t starve. I promise. Vamos. You don’t want to miss anything.”

Carlos ties his shoes and I double check Manny’s laces. A door opens and slams shut at the front of the trailer. My eyes go wide and jerk to Carlos.

Instantly he transforms from a teenage boy excited to have fun at a baseball game to a man ready to protect his family. I hate seeing this hard side of him.

Los stands and peeks outside the door. All I can do is wait and hold my breath.

“Shit. It’s my dad. He’ll be pissed if he catches us leaving.” Damn it. Let me think. My eyebrow begins twitching and it makes me wish Hart was here to make it stop.

“I can text Carter and Emilio. They can create a diversion or something. Then we’ll sneak out.” I reach in my back pocket for my phone. Crap! “I left my phone in my car. Do you have yours?” Los shakes his head.

“Ran out of minutes.”

“Remind me to get you more.” He rolls his eyes. “Okay. I’m the problem. I’ll leave. I’ll tell them I was just dropping by to say hi. Then I’ll get Carter and come back for you.”

“You don’t have to come back for us. It’s too risky. This was a stupid idea. I should have known he would ruin it. He ruins everything.” Carlos kicks the side of his mattress.

Out in the hall there is shouting and dishes breaking in the sink. The noises are familiar. They are the same ones I blocked out over the years. Those were the nights I would hide in my closet with a notebook and pencil and write.

I would write stories about some place far away with magical fairies who granted wishes. A place where moms never died, and dads never left.

“Whose car is out front?” Another dish crashes and brings me back to reality. “Answer me. You hiding someone? I know it’s not a man. There isn’t anyone else willing to put up with your shit.”

“I don’t keep track of everyone in the neighborhood. I don’t know who that car belongs to.”

“Stop lying to me,” he snaps. Then there is a slapping sound so loud my own face stings.

“Lo, I’m scared,” Manny says, wrapping his arms around me.

“I know. I’m going out there.”

“You can’t, Lo.”

“I can’t let your mom get slapped around because of me.” She may not be the best mom at the moment, but she doesn’t deserve to get abused either. She’s a victim as much as she is the problem.

“If it wasn’t about your car being outside, it would have been for something else. He would smack her around for smiling.” God, I need to get them out of here.

And not just today. For good.

“I’ve been working all morning, and this is how you say thank you? By lying to me? Why is this place such a mess?” A dish or something crashes to the floor.

“The boys better be home. They need to come out here and clean this place up. You’re obviously not going to do it. You’ve been too busy drinking again.”

“Let the boys be,” Linda says chasing loud footsteps down the hall. Crap. They’re coming in here.

There is a loud bang followed by a cry of pain. He must have pushed her back into a wall.

Why is he such an asshole?

What happened in his life to make him so angry and hateful?

Miguel bursts through the door, startling the three of us. No one moves as he narrows his eyes on each of us.

“Who the hell are you?”

“A neighbor. I came by to say hi.” I hold my breath waiting for his reaction. His eyes haven’t moved from where Manny is clinging to me.

“You shouldn’t be here. Especially in my boys’ room. Get out.” He lunges towards me with an outstretched hand.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Carlos shouts, stepping in front of me.

“Did you think I was going to hit her? Do you think I’m some kind of monster?” Carlos doesn’t answer and his dad doesn’t like that one bit. “I asked you a question.”

“I think we should all take a moment to calm down.”

“No one fucking asked you what you think.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Carlos really needs to stop defending me.

“It’s fine, Los. I’m leaving anyway.” I spin around and give Carlos a look that tells him to cool down. I’ll be back. I lean down to give Manny a hug, but I’m yanked away with the force of a tsunami.

“Enough of that.” Miguel drags me out of the room by my bicep. I attempt to pull my arm loose but there’s no point. He has me in a vice grip.

“Let her go asshole,” Carlos yells when we make it to the kitchen where broken pieces of porcelain crunch under our feet. Miguel tosses me into the counters knocking the wind out of me. That’s going to leave a bruise. Manny scurries over to me and I put a protective arm around him.

“Don’t you dare disrespect me.” Miguel throws a punch that Carlos wasn’t expecting. Carlos’ head snaps to the side on impact and he falls into the countertop. My whole-body jerks. I wrap my arms tighter around Manny.

Linda is crying and whimpering somewhere in the corner. She is helpless on multiple levels.

Carlos wipes the blood dripping from his lip on the back of his hand. He doesn’t seem shocked by his father’s behavior. It’s been a long time coming. I will never forgive myself for being the catalyst that finally pushed him over the edge.

There is no way I’m leaving them alone with this man now. I’ll have to figure something out. If only I could get Manny out. Then he could run down the street to Carter’s house and get us help.

He could get Hart. I wish he was here. No, I don’t want him in danger. And that’s exactly what he would do. Hart would put himself right in front of me. Protecting me from all of this.

“I’ve seen you around little girl. Making friends with everyone.” His steps are heavy as he makes his way to the fridge. Miguel jerks open the fridge door. I’m not surprised to see it full of beer, a giant box of wine, and completely void of anything with nutritional value. There is a half-gallon of milk that is probably weeks past its sell by date.

He reaches for a can of beer then slams the fridge closed. The crisp sound of a can opening is like a gun being fired except much scarier. At least a bullet is predictable.

Miguel guzzles the entire can like he’s in Cancun for spring break. Then fetches another beer from the fridge. “You don’t belong here. You think you can come to my home and take over my family? Take my boys from me?”

“I’m not doing that. I wanted to take them somewhere fun.” Immediately, I know I’ve said the wrong thing. He drains his beer and throws it into the sink. Glass shatters among the dirty dishes.

“Fun? Manny, do you not have fun at home?” His question is innocent enough, but it’s laced with poison. It’s a trap set up for Manny to fail no matter how he answers.

I block Manny the best I can and gently squeeze his hand, begging him to stay quiet when he opens his mouth to answer.

Miguel lunges for me again. I don’t know if he intended to hit me or simply separate me from Manny. I’ll never know because Carlos charges at him. Is that a? Oh God!

“Los, stop!” I scream. Miguel and Carlos, both ignore me as they grapple for the knife Carlos pulled out of a drawer.

What is he thinking?

Miguel isn’t fit by most standards, but he is a big guy. He is tall and stocky. He has at least fifty pounds on Carlos.

Carlos kicks and claws at his dad while still clutching the knife. For a moment I think Carlos might win this dog fight, but then Miguel upper cuts him knocking him off balance and on to the floor.

“You crazy bastard!” Linda screams, suddenly finding a voice. She attacks him with tiny fists on his back. He swats her away like an annoying little fly and turns his attention back to the three of us.

This can’t continue. It’s completely out of hand. I’m about to try to reason with this maniac when there is a knock at the door.

“Not a word,” Miguel spits, pointing a finger in my face.

No one makes a move to greet the visitor. I guess holding people hostage isn’t a good look even with your neighbors.

The knocking starts again. More aggressive than before.

“Get it,” Miguel orders Linda.

She cracks open the door. I can’t see who it is, but I hear his voice. The strong façade I’ve been clinging to burns to ash.

He’s here. He came for me. He isn’t leaving me behind.

Miguel yanks on my arm and pulls me away from Manny. He’s completely unstable. I don’t trust him not to stab me or anyone else who tries to remove me from his clutches.

Hart’s eyes beg me to remain calm and not do anything rash. It’s hard for me not to fight. I’ve been doing it my whole life. I don’t know how to relinquish the job of protecting me to someone else.

Morelli, Hart, and Enzo edge closer to the four of us in the kitchen like they are approaching a crazed gorilla. Slow, sure steps and placating words don’t seem to have the desired effect on Miguel. It would take a tranquilizer to bring him down.

He switches his hold from my arm to the back of my neck. Carlos spits in his father’s face. That’s all it takes for Miguel to attempt to stab his own son.

Before he can draw blood, Enzo and Hart are there. Each of them wrestles one of his arms pulling him into the living room. Hart works his fingers until Miguel drops the knife. Then he kicks it across the room out of reach.

The boys are still struggling to hold him captive when Morelli comes at him like an MMA fighter. He slugs him a few times in his face until Miguel’s body goes limp and falls to the ground.

He’s knocked out just in time for sirens to sound in the distance. I bring Manny and Carlos into a group hug chanting over and over how everything will be okay. You’re safe now.

When I let them out of my embrace, the first person I see is Morelli, my dad, not Hart as I expected. I don’t know what comes over me, but I take off running and jump into his arms.

“Dad,” I breathe as I cling to him. His body tenses for a moment then his arms lock around me. A hand tenderly brushes the top of my head and down my ponytail.

“Piccola.” Tiny one. He told me he started calling me that after he held me the first time. Apparently, I was half the size of Enzo at birth. “Are you okay?” I nod yes and more tears stream down my cheeks. He puts me down and looks me over, noting the bruises on my arms. “I will kill him.”

“Get in line,” Hart says over my dad’s shoulder. “Cariño.“ His sweet plea has my body wracked with sobs. “Shhh… cariño. Ahora estás a salvo. Todo ha terminado.”

Hart runs his hands up and down my back. I dig my head into his chest and breathe him in. The material of his uniform isn’t as soft as his t-shirts, but I don’t care. It still smells like him. That’s the only comfort I need right now.

His hand glides over my side and I tense waiting for it to hurt. Hart freezes and pulls away slightly. Lifting my shirt, he examines the bruise I know is forming.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bruise.” He bends down and drops his forehead to mine.

“You may be fine cariño, but I am not. When you didn’t show up…“ Hart blows out a shaky breath. “I was so fucking worried about you. Seeing him stand over you with a knife. I’ve never been more scared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry, cariño. You did good. I’m proud of you.”

“But your game.” I tug on his uniform.

“Fuck my game. You are the only thing that matters to me. Te amo,“ he says then kisses the top of my head.

“Hey. How are you doing?” Enzo asks.

“I’m okay. Thanks for joining the rescue squad.”

“Anytime.” I know he means it too. “The police want to talk to you, and I think Manny needs you as well.” His eyes flick to Manny sitting on the couch by himself. Carlos is talking to the police along with Linda.

“Hey buddy. You doing okay?” Manny doesn’t answer me. He looks sad, scared, and maybe a little angry. I put an arm around him, and he curls into my side. “I’m kind of tired of people asking me that too. You don’t have to answer me.”

The police currently have Miguel in handcuffs. He is fuming as they escort him out of the house. He isn’t going without a fight. He’s yelling obscenities. Telling Linda to watch her back.

I guess she agreed to finally press charges against him.

“Are they going to take us away too?” Manny’s voice is so quiet I barely hear him.

“No. Why would you think that?” He shrugs his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going to happen Manny. I will be with you the whole time though, okay?” He nods and rests his head back on my chest.

The police come and ask questions next. I answer them the best I can without upsetting Manny more than he already is.

“We are taking the mom too.” I overhear the officer say.

“What?” I jump up from the couch. “Hart, can you?” I nod toward Manny. “Why are you taking Linda?” I ask the officer again.

“Child endangerment. Neglect. You name it. She will need to complete rehab and go through the powers that be to get the boys back in her care.”

“Where are Manny and Carlos going to go?”

“We’ll place them in temporary custody.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Lauren.” My dad has the nerve to scold me. I glare half plead with him. “Is there another option?”

“If they have family in the area, they could stay with them.”

“Me. I’m their family.” I dig a finger into my chest. I’m hanging on by thread here. I’m emotionally and mentally drained. I swear if they get taken from me… “I want them to be with me.”

“No offense ma’am but aren’t you a little young to take on this responsibility?”

“No. I’m not. What do I need to do to prove I’m capable and have them leave with me tonight? My house is down the street. Do you need to see it? They have beds of their own, food, clothes, everything they need. Please.” I take a deep breath. “Please don’t take them away from me.”

If they walk out that door, I may never get them back. I won’t let them get lost like I did. This room is filled with people who love Manny and Carlos. There isn’t a valid reason why they should be anywhere else but with me.

The officer looks over at Hart consoling Manny. Then at Carlos leaning against the wall with my brothers anchoring him. Linda and Miguel have both been removed from the home by other officers. I hope they get help somewhere along the way. Especially Linda. I know she loves these boys. She’s just trapped in a bad cycle.

“Would you like that? Do you want to go with Miss Lauren?” He asks the boys. They both nod immediately. “You can have them for the weekend only. On Monday you need to contact Cheryl at CPS and ask about temporary guardianship.” He hands me her card.

“There is a whole process involved. I believe the boys will be safe with you for the time being. Call me if you need anything.” He passes me his card with his name and number on it. Then walks out the door.

Carlos rushes me and wraps his arms around me. “Thank you,” he chokes out between tears. I’m reminded just how young Carlos is in this moment.

Underneath the tough exterior is a young man who deserves more than this world has given him.

“I would do anything for you. You know that right?” He nods, clearing the tears from his face. “Why don’t you and Manny pack up all your things. We’ll bring everything over to my place.”

“I don’t want to come back here, Lo. I want to stay with you forever.” I know how the system works and this is a promise I can’t make.

The chances of me getting custody while I’m in school and working at a bar are not good.

“I know, Manny. Let’s just start with tonight, okay?” I give him a big hug before he runs off to his room with Carlos.

“Cariño, you can’t take them in.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” I whisper shout. I don’t want the boys to overhear us. “I can’t let them go through what I did, okay? If they left with the police, who knows where they would have ended up. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I’ll make some calls and see what we can do for them,” my dad offers.

“Thank you.” He gives me a giant bear hug I didn’t know I needed from him.

“It will all work out.” I hope so. “I love you piccolo.“ I love you too.

I hug my brothers goodbye. Marco promises to text me in the morning and offers to bring breakfast when they bring Hart’s car back. Enzo is silent as he walks out the door but there is a storm brewing within him. He is a protector by nature. I’m sure he’s thinking of ways he can fix this for everyone.

I should help the boys pack or maybe clean up this mess in case they have to come back here again. Please don’t make them come back.

“Ven aquí, cariño.” Hart takes my hand in his and pulls me onto his lap where he’s sitting on the couch. “Stop thinking so much.” Hart’s thumb grazes over my eyebrow. “We’ll figure this out together.” I kiss him in appreciation.

Together. It’s such a simple word. But knowing that I’m not alone anymore. That there is someone in this with me, no matter how hard it gets, does something to me.

“I’m going to talk to Mamá. Do you think the boys would be happy living with them?" Yes. I do.

“Do you really think your parents would do that?”

“Sí, cariño. Mamá loves you. We can go over there after breakfast and come up with a plan." I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for this man.

“Te amo," I whisper, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Te amo, cariño.”

Tomorrow. We will figure everything out tomorrow. Tonight, we’re safe and we’re together.

28

HART

I step up to the plate and get into position. Ignoring the scouts in the stand, I stare down Rooney, the pitcher. He’s been throwing high fast balls at me all night. It’s starting to piss me off. Not because I want to impress the scouts. They already know if they want to sign me or not.

I want to hit something. I want to feel the hard strike of my bat against the ball. Ever since the incident a few weeks ago I’ve been spending all my free time in the batting cages trying to rid myself of this pent-up aggression.

Lauren still isn’t sleeping through the night. She said every time she closes her eyes, she can see him standing over her with a knife threatening the boys. Not threatening her, the boys. That is not how I remember the scene.

I can’t get the image of Miguel towering over Lauren out of my head. I’m jealous Morelli got a few hits in.

At least I have my bat. If only I could get a good pitch.

Rooney winds up and launches the ball in my direction. Another fastball, but it’s low. My sweet spot. I time my swing perfectly and throw all my weight into it. Rooney curses as his head moves to follow the ball I send soaring past centerfield into the stands. Damn, that feels good.

I jog around the bases silently while the guys celebrate in the dugout. My lip curves thinking of how loud Lauren would be right now if she were in the stands. I wish she was here instead of practicing. With auditions in a week, it’s all she’s been doing.

My teammates slap my shoulders as I enter the dugout and I take my seat next to Koa.

“Hitting moonshots isn’t going to end the game and get you home to your girl.”

“Rooney’s pissed now that I’m messing up his job interview. He’ll strike out the next three.” I’m not blind. I know those scouts were looking at Rooney as much as they were me. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get drafted for the same team.

Rooney has an attitude problem, but he’s a good guy. His temper will get him in trouble one of these days. When it comes to pitching, and maybe life too, he’s the opposite of Wyatt.

Rooney walks around with a storm cloud over his head. Whereas Wyatt has rainbows. Although lately he’s been off. Something weird is going on with him.

Not that he would ever share it with us.

Wyatt is an over sharer by nature. He has no problem telling you details about his sex life or what his shits look like. Getting him to share something about his family? Or something that would leave him vulnerable? Never going to happen.

We’ve always had that in common.

As I predicted, Rooney strikes out the next three batters retiring our side. I readjust my hat, grab my glove, and start walking out to the field.

“Don’t let them get a piece of anything,” Koa says to Wyatt before dropping his mask over his face.

Wyatt takes his spot on the mound. Focused as ever. He throws his slider, and it falls just outside the strike zone. It doesn’t stop the guy at the plate from swinging.

Wyatt repeats the same pitch. This time the batter gets a piece of it and the ball flies wide to the left into the stands. Wyatt throws again. A fast ball right down the center. The perfect pitch, but the batter is caught looking at the ball as it lands in Koa’s glove.

“One down,” Koa shouts with an evil smirk.

The next batter is a big guy. He’s known for being able to hit any pitch out of the park. No surprise Wyatt decides to let him take a nice, leisurely walk to first base.

Koa stands behind the plate and holds up two fingers calling a double play. I keep my eyes on the batter. My homerun put us up by one. He’s itching to hit the ball right through our gaps and be the hero.

On the first pitch his bat connects with the ball and sends a line drive right towards me. It hops once and I dive to scoop it up. Rolling on my back, I make a quick throw to Tyler at second base. He pivots off the base and efficiently throws the ball to first base to get the out ending the game.

Get ready, brujita, I’m coming for you.

As soon as I’m out of the shower I’m texting Lauren.

I’m pathetic.

I don’t care.

I miss her.

ME

Where are you?

Are you still at the center?

Never mind I’ll text Los.

It’s late and a school night. If I know Mamá, she has given Carlos a ten o’clock curfew. The judge granted my parents temporary guardianship of the boys while their mom is in rehab.

It hasn’t been the easiest transition. The boys were used to doing whatever they wanted. Now they have rules and curfews. I’ve heard Carlos grumble on more than one occasion.

There’s a smile in his eyes every time he complains. He may not like sticking to the rules, but he’s happy someone finally cares enough about him to enforce them.

Carlos texts me back instantly letting me know he’s on his way home. Now that he has a phone with unlimited minutes he’s always on the thing.

ME

Carlos said he’s going home. Come over.

LAUREN

I have a few more things to do. I can be at your place in a few hours.

ME

You are not staying there alone.

LAUREN

I’ll be fine Hart. I’ve been here by myself before.

Exactly. Before.

Before she was physically attacked.

Before she had me.

Eventually she will understand that she will never have to be alone again.

I don’t even bother texting her back. I talk to Coach Lawson for a moment and say goodbye to the guys then head straight to the rec center.

The security guard at the front desk is leaning back in his chair sleeping. And she thinks she’s safe here by herself. Shaking my head, I continue upstairs thinking of all the ways I plan on punishing mi brujita.

I expect the door to be locked, but when I twist the handle it opens right up. Lauren must really enjoy testing my limits.

The music drowns out my entrance. Not that she would notice me anyway. Lauren is completely in the zone. If I wasn’t so irritated with her, I would be content watching her dance all night. I locate her phone on the table and pause her music.

She startles and stops mid spin. I crowd her from behind. Strands of her hair are pasted to her skin with sweat. I remove them from her shoulder and drop a kiss in their place. Her skin is salty and delicious. Lauren angles her head giving me more access to her neck.

“You didn’t even lock the door. Anyone could have come in here and hurt you.” I wrap my arms around her bare stomach. The sports bra and sweatpants she’s wearing are doing a good job showing off all her curves I have memorized.

I run my nose down her neck until my lips find the top her other shoulder. “I’m having deja’vu.”

“I don't need to lock the door. No one ever comes in here.” She spins out of my arms. “It's fine. I’m used to being here by myself.”

“Get unuse to it.” I gently brush sweaty strands of hair off her angry face. Damn she’s cute. “You aren’t alone anymore. Especially when you still haven’t learned how to properly lock a door. Roll those pretty eyes all you want, cariño. I won’t apologize or back down from wanting to keep you protected.”

“I’m not your burden or obligation, Hart.” Her defensive walls are up again. Her past seeps through every word.

“If I wasn’t a burden, they would keep me”. It’s something she’s said before in conversation. She will never have to worry about this with me.

My fingers curl around her neck. I cradle her face in my palm. Her eyes sparkle in the light. “You are a lot of things to me, but a burden will never be one of them. This is a privilege. An honor. Now, tell me what you have to do so we can go home.”

I’m tired. After a long game, the last thing I want to do is stand around a dingy room while Lauren blocks out a dance routine.

But I do it anyway.

For the last hour I’ve watched as she jumped and spun around me while I got positioned in different places around the room. I’m pretty sure Lauren has been intentionally fucking with me every time she bends over right in front of me.

Then she has the audacity to tsk me when I put my hands on her. What does she expect me to do?

She’s teasing me. The smile on her face tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing too. If she doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to push her up against the mirror. We’ll see how private this place really is.

“One more time.” Lauren resets the music. “I thought you liked watching me dance,” she says when I groan.

“I do. Very much. But seeing your ass move across the floor in those pants, it’s agony. Waterboarding seems like a better punishment at this point.” Her joggers aren’t skintight but they aren’t baggy. Not that it would matter on her body. Lauren could wear a garbage bag and she would turn me on.

“Waterboarding? Really? That’s a bit extreme. They’re not exactly flattering,” she says, pulling at the fabric of her pants.

“Is this your way of asking me to compliment you more? Because I have no problem doing that. Although I would prefer to show you how much I enjoy your body.” Goosebumps break out over her skin and her nipples harden to a point begging for my hands.

“You know what? I think I’m good for the night.” Lauren walks over to her bag. She tosses her water bottle inside. Next, she grabs her t-shirt and puts it back on. “We can get out of here if you want.”

My lip quirks up in a smile and I stroll over to her. I wrap my arms around her middle and brush a finger over her breasts.

“I don’t mind waiting.” I graze her hard nipples again and pepper kisses down her neck. I rub my cock against her ass so she can feel the truth. I’m ready to take her home now.

“Nope. I’m good. I have plenty of time to figure it all out,” she squeaks the words out an octave higher than usual. She’s lying. The auditions are in two weeks. Lauren is stressed and worrying herself to death. She’s afraid she will fail everyone.

Maybe a relaxing night is what she needs.

I take the bag out of her hands and throw it over my shoulder. “Vamos. I have plans for you." With a light grip on her elbow, I guide her out of the room and to the parking lot.

The house is quiet when we arrive. Nash is probably at the gym. He’s been doing a lot of late night training sessions to bulk up for next season. Koa and Wyatt are either asleep after playing tonight or out celebrating our win.

“Stay,” I tell Lauren when we make it to my room. She mumbles something snarky about not being a dog to command. Her sass makes me smile. I cage her in my arms where she sits on my bed. My head rests against hers. Her warm breath hits my chest. “Lo siento. Relájate y espérame. Por favor." I kiss Lauren on the top of her head before she can say anything else.

I enter the bathroom and start running the water to temperature. The bathtub isn’t massive but it’s big enough to hold both of us.

I pour some bubble bath Lauren left over here the last time she took a bath. She only has a shower at her place. I dip my hand in the running water to make sure it isn't too hot. When the water reaches a little over the halfway mark, I turn the nozzle off and head back to my room to get my girl.

“Come with me.” I hold out my hands to Lauren. She eyes me suspiciously, hesitating for a moment before placing her hands in mine.

I lead her to the bathroom. It’s humid and the smell of jasmine lingers in the air. “What’s this?” She asks. Isn’t it obvious. I look at her then the bathtub. “Did you run me a bath?”

“Us. I made us a bath. Arms up, cariño.” Still staring at the water, she lifts her arms into the air, and I remove her t-shirt and sports bra. Then I work on her shoes, socks, joggers, and underwear.

Not able to control myself I pull her against me and relish the feel of her bare skin in my arms. “Let me help you in.” I take her hand and usher her over the edge of the tub.

While she gets comfortable in the water, I remove all my clothes. Then step in the tub behind her. Water sloshes over the side as I maneuver my body lower in the water.

“Come here,” I say, encouraging her to lean against my chest. Lauren nestles herself in between my legs. The bubbles cover her like a blanket, occasionally offering me a peek at her naked body.

“This is nice. Thank you.” Lauren lazily runs her fingers up and down my thighs.

“You’ve been working too hard.” My hands roam over her shoulders and biceps, massaging her gently. Her head rolls forward, allowing me to work out the knots in her neck.

“Eso se siente bien.“ My hands freeze in place. “No te detengas.”

“You’re speaking Spanish.”

“Sí.”

“Since when?” Lauren turns her body and looks up at me.

“Since I asked your mom to start teaching me a few months ago.” She grins. How did I not know this? “I still have a lot to learn but I’m doing better. She thinks I’ll be fluent enough to keep up with conversations soon.”

“When do you have lessons?”

“While we cook. She teaches me a few words or phrases every time. And I’ve been studying on my own in between classes.”

“Why?” Is she doing this because of me? Because of my speech? Does she think I don’t talk enough? I don’t understand.

Lauren twists around in the bathtub and straddles my lap the best she can. I inhale a sharp breath when she settles against my cock. The movement almost distracts me from the hurt feelings I’m trying to hide.

“Parar." Lauren grabs both sides of my face and forces me to look at her. “Whatever you’re thinking stop. I wanted to learn Spanish for several reasons. None of them have to do with the way you speak to me.” She bites her lip and thinks for a moment.

“Well, that’s not exactly true. You speak in Spanish a lot when we’re intimate.” She rolls her hips, making me curse. “Like that. Or when you say,” Lauren leans closer. Her tits press up against my chest. “Me encanta tu panocha apretada y la forma en que tomas mi pito.”

“Fuck, Lauren.“ My hands find her hips. I squeeze them harder than I should.

Lauren lifts her hand and pushes one of my stray curls out of my face. “I also wanted to know how to speak Spanish because I want us to have a bi-lingual family.” My heart stops. Is she saying what I think? “I want to be able to speak to our children in both languages like you.”

“Cariño," I whisper before cradling Lauren’s face and kissing the hell out of her. To know that she wants a future with me. That she can see us together that far ahead means everything to me.

I pull away from her breaking the kiss and stare at my future wife. It’s hard to believe this is the same girl who was scared to answer basic questions about herself.

“Do you want that too?” Her voice is too timid for my liking.

“Sí. Lo deseo mucho," I say, running my lips down her neck. My fingers skate up and down her spine. “I want you to be my wife. I want you pregnant with my child.” I drag my hand down her chest until it lands on her belly button.

If my declaration scares Lauren, she doesn’t show it. All I see is love in her eyes. For me. For our future together.

“I like the sound of that. Voy a donde tú vayas," she says. I press my lips against hers.

“Even if it means moving far away?” We haven’t talked about the possibility of moving out of state in months. I’ve been avoiding it because I didn’t want to face the fact that she may not come with me.

I want to be reason enough for her to uproot her life, but I’m not sure. It helps that Carlos and Manny are in a safe place with my parents. But…

“Sí. I don’t want to be without you. The boys are happy. They may need me, but not as much as I need you. Te amo, James." Her arms slide up my chest and wrap around my neck.

“Te amo, dulce brujita." I kiss the top of her head and reach behind her to drain the water.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I get out of the tub. I wrap a towel around my waist. Then I help Lauren out of the tub and wrap a towel around her too.

“Going to start making our familia." I throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to my room. Her protests get drowned out with giggles.

When I get her in my bed, she wants this as much as I do.

Entering Lauren bare is a euphoria I didn’t know existed in the world. Our eyes stay locked on each other with every stroke.

Tears leak from Lauren’s eyes when she finally orgasms.

“Told you we were starting something good, cariño.”

29

LAUREN

“You’re hurting my hand.” I look down at Manny’s hand in mine. His poor little fingers are turning purple. I loosen my grip and mumble sorry to him.

We’re waiting in the hall with everyone else who is auditioning today. Trix is inside the auditorium doing his solo. The only people allowed in the room are the individuals auditioning and the judges.

I can’t even peek inside since the windows are covered. I have no clue if they are doing well or how they stack up against the competition. My stomach is rolling with anxiety. I’m not sure if I want to cry or have a mental breakdown.

“I wish I could see them.”

“It’s better this way,” Carlos informs me. I don’t see how that is true. Having me there would help with their nerves. “Trust me. We’re more interested in doing a good job for you than the snobs who run this school.”

“Fine.”

“When is Hart getting here?” He already knows the answer. Carlos is trying to distract me.

“After his game.” I check my phone. “In a couple of hours. The game just started.”

“Then we’re going to get cheeseburgers and milkshakes at the diner,” Manny reminds us.

“Is food all you think about?”

“Of course not! This morning I thought about my baseball game tomorrow and how I’m going to beat that jerk Kenny’s team. Hart said he takes out his anger at the plate. That’s what I’m going to do too.”

My eyebrows bunch in confusion. I know Kenny is the little boy around Manny’s age that lives at the end of Hart’s street.

“Kenny’s been picking on Elizabath.”

“Elizabeth?”

“She lives next door,” Manny says in a tone that informs me I need to do a better job at keeping up.

“Right. I knew that.” Carlos chuffs a laugh. It’s good to see the boys settling into some kind of rhythm. Linda is doing really well in rehab. She’s trying and that’s all we can ask.

He won’t admit it, but Manny misses her. He writes her letters and sends her photos. The facility had a no contact rule for the first few weeks. It was difficult for him.

Linda still has a few more months until she is finished at the clinic. Then she needs to get back on her feet.

Trix exits the auditorium with a smug look on his face.

“Well,” I say when he steps up to our group. He shrugs.

“I did my thing. I don’t think they hated it.”

“One lady has a real big stick up her ass,” Cash says from where he’s been sitting against the wall with Michie, and the rest of the girls.

“We don’t need her vote,” Vivi sneers.

“You’re right. You don’t. You don’t need any of their approval for that matter. No matter what happens today, I want you to leave here feeling proud of how hard you worked. I know I will.”

“I will too.” I turn to face the gruff voice behind me. Carter. “And when you graduate from this pretentious school, there will be a place for you waiting on my crew.” The kids smile and bump fists.

“In between college classes,” I add. That is the point of this after all. To give them a better chance at life.

“College isn’t for everybody, Lo,” Rocky says solemnly. I take a few steps and crouch in front of her.

“I know. And you don’t have to go to a big school like Newhouse. There are other places that might be a better fit. There’s a cosmetology school not too far from here.” Her eyes light up with interest. I tug on a piece of her hair she styled in intricate braids.

“You could open your own salon. Take a few business classes at the community college.”

“That could be cool.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Rocky. That’s all I’m asking. Okay?”

“Okay, Lo. I won’t.” I give her a hug.

Teenagers filter in and out of the holding room slash hallway. A few have broken off into smaller groups practicing their next audition piece.

No one from our small crew even tries. It’s a Kings Crew rule. You don’t show your cards. Most of the kids practicing aren’t nervous they’ll forget part of their routine. They are trying to intimidate their competition.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Carter takes hold of my elbow. It’s something he’s done dozens of times but feels unfamiliar now. His hands are so different from Hart’s. My body doesn’t like it.

“Sure,” I agree drawing away from him.

“This isn’t something I do. Don’t expect it to happen again.”

“Go on.”

“I want to say I’m sorry.” Instinct has me wanting to drop my mouth open in shock, but I keep it closed. “I never should have gotten into your business.” Carter looks down at his hands as he cracks his knuckles.

“A few years before you moved here, there was a girl in the neighborhood. She never failed to find trouble. Then one day, trouble found her.”

“I’m sorry, Carter.”

“You reminded me of her. She wanted to be part of the crew and I wouldn’t let her.”

“That’s why you gave me a chance.” He nods.

“Maybe if I kept a closer eye on her she wouldn’t have been taken and murdered.”

“It wasn’t your fault. That’s not your guilt to carry.”

He shrugs his shoulder. “Maybe not. It doesn’t make it go away. You’ve proven time and time again that you have a good head on your shoulders. I should have trusted you more. Everything you’ve done for the kids. For Royal Oaks. I’m going to miss you.”

“Miss me? I’m not going anywhere.”

“We both know Hart is getting drafted. I can’t even get updates on my team without his face popping up on the screen.”

“At least he’s pretty to look at,” I joke.

“If you say so,” Carter shakes his head smiling. “You’re going with him.” It’s not a question. I glance around the room. Carlos and Manny are laughing with Trix. Michie is reading on her phone. Cash, Rocky, and Vivi are watching a video on his phone.

“You got them here. Your job is done.” I nod, tears forming in my eyes. “You did good, Lo. I’m sorry you went through whatever you did before you came to Montgomery, but I can’t say I’m not glad you did. It made you who are. No one else could have given these kids what you have.”

“How do I walk away from them?”

“You’re not walking away. You’re setting them free.”

Carter’s words settle something in my heart. Throughout the rest of the auditions, I watch their determined faces. These are not the same kids I started teaching months ago.

It doesn’t matter if they get into Westfield Prep. The rejection might shake their confidence, but it won’t break their spirit. They’re stronger now. They’re prepared either way.

“What are you thinking about?” Hart asks as we drive over to the diner. He made it the auditions right before their last group number. Hart has become a mentor to them just as much as I have.

“Leaving.” Hart squeezes my thigh where his hand is resting. I don’t have to elaborate. He knows. We’ve been talking about where we’ll be living next a lot lately. Every night in bed we make a bucket list for each potential city.

It’s been helping me focus on our future together and not what I’ll be leaving behind.

My dad, Tori, Sylvie, and Stephen are already inside the diner when we approach our reserved tables.

“Thank you for coming to support the kids,” I say giving everyone hugs.

“We’re here for you too, Lauren,” Victoria says. “We’re really proud of everything you’re doing.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“Order whatever you want. It’s my treat,” my dad announces. The crew eagerly peruse the menus making mental lists of everything they are going to order when the waitress comes.

This is probably the first time they’ve had someone tell them there wasn’t a limit.

“They earned it,” my dad says proudly.

Nobody says anything when each kid orders two meals. Hart and I exchange knowing looks. One meal is for today and one is for tomorrow. Michie and Vivi will share their second meal with their families.

Conversation flows easily as we wait for our food. We get a recap of how they think they did during the auditions. Michie thinks she messed up her solo, but I doubt it. She’s always hard on herself.

“We’re the Kings of Royal Oaks,” Cash says as the food gets delivered. He rubs his hands together ready to dig into the giant cheeseburger and chicken fingers he ordered.

“What happens next?” Stephen asks. I finish chewing the French fry I’m eating.

“They should hear from the board in about six weeks. If they get the scholarships, they’ll move into the dorms in August.”

“And if we don’t?” Rocky speaks up.

“Then you find another way,” Hart says.

“Hart’s right,” my dad agrees. “There’s more than one way to get to where you need to be.”

“What if they don’t like us?”

“They don’t like us, Mich,” Trix says around a mouth full of food. “I don’t like them either.”

“They might act like they’re better than you, but they aren’t. You have the same rights to that school as they do.” I take a quick sip of my drink.

“Maybe they’ll surprise you.” Carlos scoffs. “Their problems may be different but trust me they still have problems like every other person in the world.”

“Oh sure, like do I drive the BMW or the Cadilac to school. Poor dears,” Vivi jokes.

“That may be true,” Hart says. “Just remember what you see on the surface isn’t always who they are inside. Give them a chance.” Hart grabs my hand under the table. “Or you might miss out on someone who will change your life.”

30

10 YEARS LATER

LAUREN

“This is why we go potty before we leave the house.” I hustle Xavier to the bathroom before he has an accident. It isn’t an easy feat being seven months pregnant.

For a three-year-old, he does a pretty good job with the bathroom all things considered. I have his older brothers to thank for that. He wants to be just like Dante and Francisco.

“I did but Cici gave me extra dwinks.”

“Grandma Sylvie has always been good with giving people extra drinks,” I grumble.

Dante started calling Sylvie that nickname when he was around Xavier’s age, and it stuck over the years.

We finally reach the bathroom and Xavier manages to make some of it into the toilet. Hart will have to keep working with him on that one.

My phone buzzes on our way back to our seats.

HART

I don’t see you in your seat little   mamá.

Do you have the   jefecito with you?

If little boss doesn’t describe Xavier, I don’t know what does.

ME

Yeah, he had to go potty.

Again.

HART

Tell him to move his little legs. We’re about to start. I need to see your face.

I hate to break it to him, but Xavier isn’t the slow one. I’m the one waddling around the stadium.

“I see Papá and Dante!“ Xavier screams when we reach our seats.

“Sí. Sit down by Cisco and Cici." He doesn’t sit down of course. Xavier jumps up and down while holding on to the railing. He looks ready to launch himself right over the edge.

“Relax, piccolo. He’s just having fun," my dad says.

Tori and my dad are sitting on one side of our row. Sylvie and Stephen anchor the other, boxing in the boys. Our whole family is here for today’s game.

Hart and Dante are on the field with dozens of little league teams from underprivileged communities. Xavier and Francisco wanted to join them, but they are too little. I don’t have the energy to chase them around the field with baseballs flying all over the place.

Dante is only eight, a few years younger than most of the other kids, but he’s tall for his age. He’s his dad’s shadow. No way he was going to sit this one out.

“Where’s Manny?” I search the field for him. He’s one of the volunteers for the event. He’ll be heading to Newhouse in the fall. A full scholarship for baseball. We couldn’t be prouder of him and everything he’s accomplished. Carlos too. I wish he could be here today, but he had to work. This is his busy season. He would have loved to see this.

“Left field.” Of course. He loves it out there. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him climb the wall to catch a ball that should have been a home run. I was cheering so loud my throat was burning. I smile remembering how jealous Hart got.

“I don’t like you screaming someone else’s name.”

“It’s Manny.”

“Don’t care. You’ll be screaming my name by the end of the night, brujita.”

Hart captures my attention in my search for Manny. He’s gotten even more handsome over the years. He’s still the same quiet man I fell in love with, but something happened the first time Dante was placed in his arms.

His whole world shifted.

It wasn’t just the two of us anymore.

We were so young too.

I know we joked around about starting a family, but neither one of us expected it to happen so quickly.

We had only been married six months when we got pregnant. I was doing freelance work for Stephen. Hart was still playing in the minors. We lived in the smallest apartment in the state of Kentucky.

Smaller than my trailer if you can believe that.

Too small for a baby.

We made it work until Hart got called up and we headed back to Alabama.

We found a house in Hart’s old neighborhood. Sydney thought I was crazy for living so close to our parents.

It felt right to move there. I wanted to be near our familia. I wanted our kids to have their grandparents close and see their uncles when they were in town.

I remember walking into our new home for the first time thinking it was too big. It was just the three of us. Dante had a lot of stuff, but not enough to fill a five-bedroom house.

“Just wait cariño,” Hart said with a sly grin on his face.

He was right. In three months or so, I will lose my last guest room. I’ve never been happier.

“Hola mamacita." Hart climbs up the railing in front of us. Reminds me of our college days when he would hop over the rail and talk to me during his practices.

With a small push from my dad, I heave myself out of my seat. Stadium seating is not made for pregnant women. “Hi, Hart.” I bend down and kiss him. “Are you ready?” He nods.

“Papá. Papá. Papá. Papá. Papá.“ Xavier chants beside us. Hart chuckles.

“Jefecito. What do you need, sir?" Hart addresses our little man. I giggle and ruffle up Xavier’s head of dark, curly hair.

“Can I come play wift you? I be careful.”

“I know you will, but there are too many people. How about I get Ms. Charlie to have you help with t-shirts in the fifth inning. Do you think you can throw them to the people in the stands?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve been pwacticing.”

“I can throw it farther than you,” Francisco argues.

“No, you can’t.”

“Can too.”

“No way.”

“I can!”

“Alright boys. Neither one of you will be able to help Charlie if you keep bickering with each other.”

“What’s bitchering?” I drop my head back and look to the sky for help while the grandparents snicker behind me.

“It’s what your m-” I glare at Hart.

“James Hart, don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“Te ves muy bien, cariño. Doesn’t your mommy look pretty today boys?”

“Mommy is always pwetty.”

“Except in the morning before she has her coffee. Papá, remember you said we have to let mommy have her coffee first or she is a scary monster.”

“Cisco, that was supposed to be our secret.” Francisco shrugs, not realizing he just threw his dad under the bus.

Bending towards Hart, I grab his face. He pushes his hat up enough for my lips to graze his. “Tienes suerte de verte tan sexy con esos pantalones.“ I kiss the smirk off his face.

“You sure you don’t want to join me down here?”

“This is your moment.”

“I didn’t do all this alone.”

“I know. I’ll stay with the boys. I’m sure I’ll still get some camera time.” I pretend to fluff my hair. Hart chuckles at my preening. Most days I’m rolling in the stadium wearing a pair of cutoffs and some old Crocs.

Knowing the focus would be on my family today, I dressed us accordingly. All the boys are wearing their daddy’s jersey with clean-ish shorts. They were clean when we got here at least.

I squeezed myself in a fitted sleeveless dress and tied my jersey above my bump. I look cute.

“Okay, cariño. I’ll tell Charlie to get the boys later." I nod and give Hart one more kiss. He touches my belly saying hi to our baby girl. Then I take my seat. My ankles are already swelling thanks to the heat. I’m sure the nachos I ate earlier didn’t do me any favors. No room in life for regrets. Especially when we’re talking about beer cheese nachos.

“Boys, why don’t you sit down. They’re about to start.” All the kids are lining up with their teammates.

Hart is standing just outside the first base line. Manny and Dante are on either side of him. The camera crew is getting everything set up and ready for his interview. His eyes catch mine as one of the guys connects a mic to his uniform.

Love and pride shine in his eyes. I place a hand of my chest where I have his name tattooed in a whimsical font. He copies me and covers my name on his chest.

Hart had his tattoo done before his first game in the minors. His hand goes to his chest after every play he makes. Whether it’s a hit or an out. They are all for me. For us.

We’ve had lots of conversations about names over the years. Especially when we had to decide what to name our children. Hart and I both grew up with the names of our fathers. Names that we changed when we figured out who we were.

Our names haunted us in a way.

We didn’t want that for our kids.

We didn’t want them to have a name they felt obligated to live up to like Hart.

Or a name that reminded them of the past like mine.

Every day of each pregnancy we dropped names we liked into a jar. After the child was born, we drew two pieces of paper at random in the hospital.

It worked like a charm. We’ve loved every name. Even Xavier Wyatt Hart. I don’t know how Wyatt managed to pull that off. He must have dropped his name in the jar every time he was in town. Little sneak.

The sideline reporter starts speaking, quieting the crowd. She’s explaining why all the kids are on the field and introduces Hart. Sylvie grabs my hand when the camera focuses back on my husband.

“You and your wife do a lot for the local community. Tell us how it all started.”

“For those of you who don’t know, I met my wife in college. We were partnered together on an assignment in one of our journalism classes.” My dad bumps his shoulder with mine. “We spent weeks asking each other questions and getting to know each other just to turn it into an article worthy of a good grade.

“My article told the story of a woman with a big heart and more strength in her pinky than I have swinging a bat.” That makes the crowd roar with laughter.

“My wife, Lauren, fights hard for what she believes in and for the people she loves.” I glance at Manny. We exchange knowing smiles. God, I love that kid. “She loves so many people we decided to start the Hand & Hart Foundation.

“Together along with the help of all of these people.” Hart gestures toward a few players from the Alabama Blazers Football Team and Charlie. “We are developing one of the biggest outreach programs in the state.”

Hart continues to share what the Hand & Hart Foundation is doing for youth sports. That’s our focus today. We do a lot of other things including helping existing shelters and food banks. This year we are opening our first recreational center.

We started small. I went back to Royal Oaks first. We repaired trailers, upgraded furniture, found residents jobs, and childcare. We filled every need we could until our resources ran out.

Hart casually told a teammate what we were doing. Next thing he knew, there was a check in his hand. Enough money to fill all the food banks in the county. Word spread and the donations kept pouring in. The whole Mavericks organization supported our efforts. We started doing small charity events with the help of their PR people.

It wasn’t until after Francisco was born that we started our foundation. I quit working and poured everything into Hand & Hart full time.

Hart gave me my dream.

He gave me my family.

He gave me him.

His handsome face flashes on the jumbotron. His eyes are animated as he speaks about the kids we are helping.

I glance around the stadium. Over forty thousand people hang on his every word. Some women have tears in their eyes.

The Easy Out.

That was the title of my paper I wrote on Hart all those years ago. He told me about the term in one of my many baseball lessons. Players use it when they think a batter isn’t going to do well or maybe a base runner is slow and will be easy to tag.

Hart explained that you could never underestimate the easy out. They’ll always surprise you.

In my article, I wrote about man who may not say much but would go above and beyond protecting the people he loves.

I wrote about a man who shouldn’t be underestimated.

I wrote about a baseball player who was meant for more.

In a way, Hart has always been my easy out. I thought I would get my grade and walk away from him.

He surprised me at every turn.

“Mamá. Mamá. Mamá. Look we on the teeveeeee!” Cisco is waving excitedly at himself and the crowd. The crowd who are in hysterics watching Xavier make duck lip and scary monster faces at the camera.

“I’m really proud of you, piccolo. Your mom would be too.”

“Thanks, Dad. I wish she was here to see all of this.” I look at my boys and Hart. He’s smiling wide at our sons.

“Me too.”

Hart finishes up his speech. The crowd applauds him and our organization. I’m clapping and screaming for my man. I’m so freaking proud of him. It’s hard to believe he used to be afraid of speaking in public.

Manny and Dante join us in the stands as Xavier and Francisco watch the ground crew prepare the field for the game.

“Did you see Mamá? I threw the ball to first base all the way from centerfield!”

“I did slugger. You were amazing.”

“Come sit by me Dante.” Stephen pats the empty seat next to him. He sits, but he’s bouncing in the chair.

“Rooney said some kid named Eric is throwing the first pitch. I told him it was fine since I’ve done it before. I didn’t mind.” Dante keeps talking. He doesn’t care if anyone is listening or not. He’ll still talk non-stop.

When Dante was five, Marco came over to the house with a bandage on his ear. He tricked poor little Dante into thinking he talked his ear off the last time he came to visit.

Jokes on Marco. Dante climbed over Marco’s lap and talked for the next hour straight into his ‘good ear.’

Eric throws the first pitch, high fiving a grumpy Rooney on the mound. I’m sure his lip turned up a little under his beard. He’ll deny it all day, but he has fun with the kids.

The boys have a blast watching their daddy play the game that still brings him joy every day.

I’m wiping faces and doing bathroom runs, for me and the boys, in between innings.

Cisco and I get back to our seat just in time to see Hart hit a home run into right field. He gives me a quick wink as he passes first base.

Te amo, I mouth with my hand over my heart.

HART

“The boys are in bed,” I say, entering our bedroom. My breath catches when I see Lauren laying in our bed. I love her body when she’s pregnant.

Lauren may not think so, but she glows.

She’s changed out of that tight ass dress she was wearing earlier. I don’t know what I liked more. The way her backside looked or seeing Mrs. Hart printed across her shoulders.

My brujita always looks gorgeous. Even now in my old Newhouse sweatshirt. The cuffs are frayed, and the logo is faded, but she wears it well.

“They had a lot of fun today.” I climb into bed behind Lauren and wrap my arms around her.

She groans and rubs her chest. I choke on a laugh.

“It’s not funny.”

“Lo siento.” I kiss the back of her head and the side of her neck. “Was it the nachos or the hamburger?” Eventually Lauren will remember how bad her heartburn flares up with stadium food. It wasn’t this bad with the boys.

Baby girl, however, is giving her trouble.

“How did you know about the hamburger?”

“Saw you on the big screen.” She gasps.

“You did not.”

“Did too. You looked muy sexy with that sauce dripping on your chin.” Lauren covers her face mortified. “I’m just kidding with you.” She sags in relief. “They showed you eating the nachos. I’m guessing it was your second one.”

“I did not order two nachos. They were Cisco’s nachos, and he was getting full.”

“Uh-huh.” Her elbow pokes me in the ribs.

“It would have been terrible for them to go to waste. That’s all I’m saying about it.”

“One day you will have to tell the guys how it’s possible that you can stuff so much into your mouth. I’m tired of explaining it to them.” Her head whips around so fast I’m surprised I didn’t hear her neck crack.

“You better be joking, Hart.” I shrug infuriating her further. I love getting her riled up.

In college, Lauren was quiet but always a spitfire. It wasn’t until she became a mom that her real fighting spirit started to shine. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for her boys.

Lauren read all the parenting books. She called Tori and Mamá every day with questions.

When she noticed Dante wasn’t talking as much as the other preschoolers in his class, she panicked and contacted his doctor.

The doctor told us it was normal and not to worry. Lauren wasn’t worried. She was livid that the concern she had for her child was completely dismissed. We went for a second opinion and sure enough Lauren was right.

Dante didn’t have a stutter like I did, but his speech was delayed. We immediately put him into speech therapy.

If only we had known, he wouldn’t stop talking once he figured it out. He still attends therapy weekly at his elementary school to help him with pronunciation and sounding out certain letter combinations.

Lauren would walk across fire for her kids if she needed to.

My hand slinks under Lauren’s sweatshirt. It stopped being mine about nine years ago. With a hand on her round belly, I wait for our baby girl to say hello. It only takes a few seconds before she starts kicking.

“I’m so tired of being pregnant.”

“You say this every time. Then after they’re born you can’t wait until you’re pregnant again.” It happened like clockwork. I’d never complain about it either.

“Yeah, well this is the last one.” My body tenses. We never discussed when our family would be complete. We both figured we would feel it and know it was time.

Our baby girl will fill a spot in our hearts we’ve saved just for her, but I feel like I have room for more.

“My body is tired, Hart.”

“I know, cariño.”

“But if you want more…” Lauren rolls over and faces me. I cover the hand she places on my chest with mine and lock our fingers together.

“If we want more, then we can adopt.” Lauren’s eyes widen. Then a smile spreads over her face. “Would you like that?”

“Sí. Yes.”

“Dondequiera que yo voy, tú vas, cariño.” Wherever I go, you go. I never realized how true this was until I started traveling for work. Even in college when we would travel for games. I felt them.

I took Lauren wherever I was because she was embedded so deep in my heart. She went where I went because she was a part of me now. Even when I wasn’t physically able to put her in my pocket and take her with me, she was there.

“Wherever you go, I go, James.”

Translations:

Below you will find most, if not all, of the translations in the book.

Please note that reading translations ahead of time could lead to spoilers in the story.

Common phrases:

Brujita – Little witch

Mierda -Shit

Maldito – Damn

Vamos – Let's go

Mijo – Informal way to say My Son

Mija – Informal way to say My Daughter

Carino – baby, sweetheart, honey

Lo siento – I'm sorry

Te Amo – I Love You

Voy a donde tú vayas – I'm going where you go

Tan bonita – So pretty

Chapter 3:

Dulce sueños brujita. No lances más hechizos esta noche. – Sweet dreams little witch. Don't cast any more spells tonight.

Chapter 6:

Ven conmigo, brujita – Come with me, Little witch

Chapter 10:

Mi dulce bruja – My sweet witch

Chapter 13:

Tan pequeña. Quiero ponerla en mi bolsillo y llevarla a casa. – So small. I want to put her in my pocket and take her home.

Chapter 14:

Dios, ella es adorable – God, she is adorable.

Estoy feliz haberte esperado – I'm glad I waited for you.

Mentiroso – Liar

Mírame cariño – Look at me, baby

Chapter 15:

Brujita de fantasía – Little witch fantasy

Chapter 16:

Voy a donde tú vayas – I'm going where you go

Matándome, cariño – Killing me, baby

No te detengas. Me encanta la forma en que me tocas, cariño – Don't stop. I love the way you touch me, baby

Eres una brujita malvada – You're an evil little witch

Por favor. Necesito sentirte cerca de mi. – Please. I need to feel you close to me.

Fuiste hecha para mí, cariño – You were made for me, baby

Chapter 18:

Gracias por tus dulces palabras, cariño. – Thank you for the sweet words, baby.

Brujita te sientes tan bien – Little witch you feel so good

Dios mío, ella es la cosa más bonita que he visto en mi vida cuando está un sus rodillas por mi. – Oh my God, she's the prettiest thing I've ever seen in my life when she's on her knees for me.

Apúrate brujita – hurry little witch

Chapter 19:

Mierda. Un toque y me tienes más duro que una piedra – Shit. One touch and you've got me harder than a stone.

Vas a pagar por eso – You're going to pay for that.

Chapter 21:

Relajate para mí cariño – Relax for me baby

Te sientes muy bien. No quiero terminar pronto – You feel so good. I don't want to finish soon.

Chapter 23:

Tan bonita. Tan rosita como tu panochita. – So pretty. As pink as your pussy.

Deja de hablar así de mi hermana. No tengo ningún problema en golpearle la cara a mi mejor amigo – Stop talking about my sister like that. I have no problem punching my best friend in the face.

Relájate, cariño. Esta bien – Relax, baby. It is ok.

Respirar cariño – Breathe, baby

Chapter 24:

¿Dónde estás, cariño? – Where are you, baby?

Shhh… cariño. Te tengo a ti. Estoy aquí. No me voy a ir a ninguna parte – Shhh... My sweetheart. I've got you. I am here. I'm not going anywhere.

¿Quieres mi pito, brujita? – "Do you want my cock/dick, little witch?

Estas empapada para mi – You're soaking wet for me.

Eres tan caliente – You're so hot

Chapter 25:

Me vuelves salvaje, cariño. No puedo esperar para llevarte a mi casa esta noche y mostrarte lo tanto que te deseo. – You drive me wild, baby. I can't wait to take you home tonight and show you how much I want you.

Chapter 27:

Shhh… cariño. Ahora estás a salvo. Todo ha terminado – Shhh... baby. Now you're safe. It's all over

Ven aquí, cariño – Come here, baby

Chapter 28

Lo siento. Relájate y espérame. Por favor – I am sorry. Relax and wait for me. Please.

Eso se siente bien – That feels good

No te detengas. – Don't stop

Me encanta tu panocha apretada y la forma en que tomas mi pito. – I love your tight pussy and the way you fuck my cock/dick.

Sí. Lo deseo mucho – Yes. I want it very much

Voy a donde tú vayas. – I'll go where you go.

Epilogue:

Te ves muy bien, cariño – You look so good, baby

Tienes suerte de verte tan sexy con esos pantalones – You're lucky to look so sexy in those pants

Dondequiera que yo voy, tú vas, cariño – Wherever I go, you go, baby

THANK YOU

Where do I begin?

This book started almost two years ago as an enemies to lovers romance. Hart and Lauren said no. We don't want to hate each other. After months of reworking the story and basically starting over, I discovered two quiet people who were meant to be.

It took nine months to flesh their story out. That's hours sitting at a computer typing, thinking, re-typing all over again.

Needless to say, there are a lot of people to thank.

My family. My husband. My kids. They are my biggest cheerleaders. I couldn't have done any of this without their support. I wouldn't want to if they weren't on this journey with me.

Kelsey. My ride or die. You are a diamond, friend. Without your help with plot development and encouragement to keep going, this book would not be here. You also make everything so much fun! I love you girl!

Kassandra, Maria, and Angelica. Thank you for reading Easy Out early and helping me with all the Spanish. You were all so sweet and kind. I can't thank you enough. I would have been lost without you.

Sam at Ink & Laurel. You are so talented. You brought Lauren and Hart to life on the cover. I am so blessed to have you illustrating my covers. I can't wait to see what you do with Wyatt.

Newhouse Nation! Let's go! All the ARC readers, content creators, and readers of the Newhouse series – THANK YOU! In the words of Hart, we are starting something good. I'm so grateful you are on this ride with me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ginger lives in North Carolina with her husband and three kids.

When she isn't writing romance novels, you can find her running her indie bookstore Folk & Fable Co. or spending time with her family.

Who are we kidding? She is probably reading a book.

Follow her on social media (@gingeralana) to stay up to date on her upcoming book releases or the latest antics from her family.

WHAT'S NEXT?

AVAILABLE NOW

The Summer List

Pieces of You

WHAT'S NEXT?

Strike Zone: Newhouse University Book 2 (Wyatt's Book)

Foul Territory: Newhouse University Book 3 (Koa's Book)

JOIN NEWHOUSE NATION

Table of Contents

Epigraph

1. LAUREN

2. HART

3. LAUREN

4. HART

5. LAUREN

6. HART

7. LAUREN

8. HART

9. LAUREN

10. HART

11. LAUREN

12. HART

13. LAUREN

14. HART

15. LAUREN

16. HART

17. LAUREN

18. HART

19. LAUREN

20. HART

21. LAUREN

22. HART

23. LAUREN

24. HART

25. LAUREN

26. HART

27. LAUREN

28. HART

29. LAUREN

30. EPILOGUE

Translations

Thank You

About the Author

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