Page 36 of Play For Me

He lets me lead him through a series of basic stretches without comment. At first, I find it awkward, sitting in close proximity to someone and neither of us saying a word. Eventually it starts to feel okay, though. Comfortable. Kind of relaxing, actually.

It’s also pretty damn distracting, having him so close. Stretching his big, tall body right next to me. The longer we’re there, the more aware of him I feel. He’s dressed in loose soccer shorts and a white compression shirt that clings to his skin, hinting at the body I’d seen up close and personal at that party. But I can’t be sitting here thinking about how good he looks with his shirt off, so I drag my eyes away from his chest, only to have them land on his bare legs. Damn it, he has nice legs, too. Soccer player legs. His golden skin makes me wonder how much time he spends outside, and what he does when?—

A soft throat clear forces my attention away from his body, and my cheeks immediately feel hot. I sneak a peek at his face and see he’s grinning broadly, looking pretty damn smug. Damn it, he totally caught me checking him out.

My normal reaction would be to laugh it off. To acknowledge that he’s hot and fun to look at. I’m not the kind of girl who gets all shy or can’t be honest about what she’s into.

But for some reason, I can’t make myself do that with Solomon. Instead, I jump up from the grass, putting some much-needed space between us. I figure he’s going to tell me that we haven’t stretched nearly enough, but he stays quiet while he climbs to his feet and goes to collect the ball.

“You want offense or defense?” he asks and I give him a look that makes him laugh. “I take it that means you want the ball. So I’ll defend.”

I take the ball and start to move it between my feet, getting a feel for it. “Rules?”

He shrugs. “Let’s try to keep things mainly around the penalty box. Definitely this side of the center line.”

I grin at him as I start to dribble. “What, you don’t feel like running tonight?”

“Fuck no,” he says. “You kick it to the other end and you’re the one going to get it.”

“Don’t worry.” I move past him. “I plan to only kick it into the net.”

He laughs and moves in to defend the goal.

I figured Solomon was at least somewhat athletic—most of the students I know who go into sports medicine are former athletes. But I hadn’t expected him to be quite so good. He definitely makes me work for the first goal, getting up in my space with his big, lanky body. I’m faster though, and I use that to my advantage.

I fake left, then cut hard to the right, grinning when Solomon actually takes the bait for half a second. Most people do. Most people also underestimate how fast I am.

Not him.

His hip nudges mine as I blow past, not enough to stop me, just enough to let me know he’s there.

“Thought you were supposed to be defending me,” I shoot over my shoulder, breathless and laughing.

“Iamdefending you.”

I snort at that and tap the ball forward, sprinting for the edge of the box. The evening air feels good in my lungs, the setting sun warm on my arms and legs. My feet dig into the turf as I push harder but he stays right with me, long strides easy and unfairly effortless.

The competitive part of me lights up hot in my chest.

I drop my shoulder and try another move, my feet quick as I control the ball. It’s the kind of play that usually leaves defenders stumbling but Solomon recovers instantly, stepping into my path at the last second. I barely keep possession.

“You this annoying with everybody?” I ask.

“Only the stubborn ones.”

I laugh again before I can stop myself.

It goes on like that, me trying to outrun and outmaneuver him, Solomon doing a damn good job of keeping up. We play until my lungs are burning, until I’m panting, the two of us chasing each other across the field while the sun dips low behind the athletic complex

I’m about to score—again—but Solomon swings his leg out at the last second and blasts the ball clear across the turf and out of the zone.

“Are you kidding me?” I shout. “Who’s kicking the ball out of the zone now?”

He bends over, resting his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “If you weren’t such a little chaos demon I wouldn’t have had to.”

That, of course, makes me inordinately happy. Chaos demon. I love it.

I pat his shoulder as I pass. “Don’t worry, I’ll go get it. You take a breather.”