Page 103 of Play For Me

She squeezes my hand, the fierce expression not lessening in the slightest. “I’m glad.” There’s a bit of silence before she speaks again, her voice more tentative. “You can talk to me about them, you know. Your parents. If you think it might help.”

I let out a long breath. Would it help? When I’m with Cecelia, it’s easy to pretend that none of the shit in my life exists. Butthere’s always going to be something—a chance encounter with my mom in some random hotel, unanswered calls from my dad, loud parties and sticky punch soaking into my clothes. How long can I try to pretend with her that nothing is wrong?

“I don’t have a good relationship with my parents,” I finally say. Understatement of the fucking century. “They never had a lot of patience for me. They um, they’re kind of high profile in the business community in San Diego. It didn’t work out too well for them having a kid that always froze up around crowds or said the wrong thing around their VIP colleagues.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. “They sent me to live with my grandpa when I was fifteen. Things got a lot better for me after that.”

“Hang on.” She sits up fully, staring at me. “Theysentyou to live with your grandpa? Because…what? You didn’t like to go to their work events?”

It wasn’t just work events. It was their whole life. Their careers were the only thing that mattered to them. Even their so-called down time was all about networking. Having a kid who couldn’t even manage to make small talk was a fucking nightmare for them. And they made sure to demonstrate their displeasure every single day of my life until I finally got out of there. But there’s no way I’m telling her aboutthat.

“My personality wasn’t a good fit for them,” I say instead.

She shakes her head, looking pissed off and sad in equal measures. I don’t like the idea of her being sad for me. I don’t like that she’s upset at all, not when we’d been having such a nice day. I pull her back against my chest and lay down once more. “Seriously. It was better for me once I went to the ranch.”

“Well, obviously,” she snaps, still sounding pissed off. “Your grandpa is awesome and they clearlysuck.”

I find myself smiling against her hair, something that never happens when I think about my parents. But there’s just something so nice about the way she sounds so angry on mybehalf. She doesn’t even know my parents, minus a single interaction with my mother in which the woman didn’t even acknowledge her existence, and she still sounds like she’s ready to fight them both for me.

“Red is pretty awesome,” I agree. “And the whole point of not answering the phone was to not let my dad ruin my day. So let’s stop thinking about them, okay?”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if she’s going to refuse to drop it. But then?—

“Oof,” I mutter, as she wraps her arms around my middle and squeezes, tight.

“I really, really like you, Solomon Barnes.”

I blink a few times, overwhelmed and more than a little out of breath from the strength with which she’s clinging to me. “I really like you, too,” I finally manage, my throat tight.

It’s bullshit, obviously. I stopped liking Cecelia Ransome a long time ago. Whatever this is between us now is a hell of a lot more thanlike.

She lifts her head from my chest and glares at me.

“Also, I’m really smart and I have excellent taste. So anyone who disagrees with me about how awesome you are is obviously a loser and a dumbass, and not someone you should ever let bother you.”

Heat stings my eyes even as I laugh. It’s such a Cecelia thing to say, and it feels so damn good to hear.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her.

She nods once, still looking fierce. “See that you do.”

Just as we expected,the week kicks our ass. I have to stay late at the library two nights in a row to finish my paper. CoachCarla is clearly getting nervous about the stakes for the next two games because she keeps extending practices and adding game tape sessions. Between the classwork, the longer practices, and Cecelia’s treatment, neither of us have much free time.

The girls win the first game on Wednesday. Cecelia scores and gets an assist, but I can tell she’s tired by the end of the game—favoring her left knee. She doesn’t even argue with me when I tell her I want her taped for the rest of the week.

The next match is at home on Saturday afternoon. After I’ve dealt with getting Cecelia and my other assigned players ready, Devon sends me out to set up our supplies before the game. I’m just getting to the sideline when someone calls my name from the stands. I look up to see Cecelia’s parents waving at me. They’re both wearing jerseys with her number and team hats. It’s not doing much to disguise Cash, though, because he’s getting lots of attention from the people around him.

Figuring I should make more of an effort than waving from forty feet away, I jog over to the stands to say hello.

“Good to see you, Sol,” Cash says, leaning over the railing to pat my shoulder. “Is our girl ready for the game?”

“She’s always ready,” I say, and he laughs.

“How’s her knee?” Sam asks, frowning. “I thought she was limping after the last game.”

I’m not super comfortable discussing Cecelia’s injury without her here so I go with a basic, “we did lots of stretching and compression after the last game and she’s been good about icing it.”

Sam nods, looking a little relieved. “We’ll let you get back to work. Just wanted to say hi.” She nods up into the stands and I see a bunch of the same people I met last weekend, including the bearded older brother who clearly doesn’t like me. He’s watching us, a frown on his face. “We’ve got a whole crowd to cheer for her today.”

“I’m sure she’ll love that.”