Page 18 of Double Play
I pretend not to notice his worry, and he pretends not to be worried.
We’re both terrible liars.
“Boarding group two,” the gate agent calls, voice sharp through the speaker.
Gael is in front of us, talking to Mike like they’re in the middle of an argument that started three days ago and never ended. Brooks is behind us, wearing sunglasses indoors like a criminal, and Kai is… Kai. Loud, grinning, and still on the phone with his very pregnant stepsister.
Well… now she’s his wife.
“How are you feeling?” Andres murmurs, low enough that nobody else hears.
I take a slow breath through my nose. My body feels fine. My head feels… not fine.
“I’m good,” I say, because the last thing I want is him worrying.
Andres's fingers tap my wrist once. Twice. Three times.
Our new little code.
As if to say,I'm here. I’ve got you. Don’t make me tackle you in public, pretty boy.
“Your good has layers,” he says, voice dry.
“It’s a dip,” I mutter.
He huffs a quiet laugh, and the sound hits me in the chest in a way that makes me want to do something stupid and sweet and wildly inappropriate in an airport full of strangers.
Pretty sure the PR team would hate me if I did.
I’m trying to be normal.
I’m failing, but I’m trying.
We step onto the plane, and the aisle feels too narrow, too crowded, and too intimate for how badly I want to turn my head and kiss him. Not a quick peck. Not a friendly little “bro” thing.
A real kiss.
The kind that says mine in a language no one can pretend they don’t understand.
We’re assigned across the aisle from each other because the universe hates romance and loves inconvenience. Andres stows his bag overhead, then glances down at me like I’m a problem he’s delighted to solve.
Leaning in, close enough that I smell his cologne, warm and clean and familiar.
“I’m right here,mi sol,” he whispers.
“I know.” The words come out choked. I hate flying, and having him next to me keeps me calm, and now I won’t be able to hold his hand.
“Your blood sugar.” He tries to change the subject. “When we take off, sometimes you drop.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll let you know if I feel off.”
Dre’s mouth twitches. “Good boy.”
My stomach flips so hard I swear it tries to relocate. I sit down before my face can betray me. Buckle in and pull my cap lower. Pretend I’m not getting wrecked by two words. Across the aisle, Andres sits, long legs braced, phone already in his hand like he’s preparing for war.
I stare straight ahead as the plane starts to taxi, my heart doing that annoying thing where it acts like I’m about to confessa crime instead of flying to play a game I’ve played since I was a kid.
We aren’t hiding our relationship anymore. Not from the team. Not from cameras. Not after the game.
