Page 32 of Blitz

She whines deep in her throat. I push her hair out of her face, my thumb drawing circles on her cheek.

“I know, sunshine, I know. We have all the time in the world. There’s no need to rush.”

Mason draws little circles on my chest with her fingertips. “We don’t have to delay, though. There’s no need to wait.”

“You need to conserve your strength for tomorrow. You should rest. And what I want to do with you is definitely not restful.” I trace my thumb over her bottom lip. Her mouth puckers and her tongue comes out to flick against my finger.

“We could play.”

I shake my head at the hopeful note in her voice. “If you think I’m stopping before we’re both spent and satisfied, woman, you’re out of your damn mind. I’ve been waiting this long to get my hands on you. We can wait one more night.”

She kisses me again, chastely, sweetly. She breaks the kiss and rests her head on my shoulder again, her arms wrapping around me.

“I love you, baby,” she says, and something deep within me warms. It doesn’t matter how many times she says it; I’ll never get tired of hearing it.

Chapter fourteen

Mason

There’s a familiar rhythm to meet days. Wake up early in my empty bed, hating life. Remember it’s meet day. Get a burst of adrenaline. Remember my event doesn’t start until the afternoon. Power down, conserve energy. Get dressed. Head to the ASC with my roommates for first breakfast. Fuel up for the day ahead. Go to the practice facility, stretch and roll out. Get dressed in my running gear.

And then wait. And wait. And wait some more. Eat a granola bar. Wait.

Finally, around two o’clock, my race gets called. Five more minutes. I shake out the pre-race jitters and move with Fred and Melissa to the staging area.

My eyes rove over the sparsely populated bleachers. There aren’t a lot of fans of indoor track and field, and even fewer people want to show up when it’s nineteen degrees and sleeting outside.

In the second row, in the section directly behind the finish line, is Tucker. He catches my eye and waves, a sappy smile on his face. I’m probably wearing my own sappy smile as I wave back to him. He brought his friends. Barrett and Amir are sitting on either side of him. Wes is at the end, reading a book. Barrett nudges him, he looks up, meets my eye, and returns his attention to the book. I’m not offended. In the row behind them sit Greg, Miles, and Sam. Her smile is more like a grimace as she waves politely at me.

Fred laughs. “Looks like you’ve got your own personal cheering section.”

“Jealous?” I roll my eyes and nudge her with my elbow. “What happened with that cute football player you were talking to? Sullivan? Didn’t you have guys plans for last night?” She ended up going home with Mark of all people. I thought that was over and done with.

She huffs. “He went home from the Delta party last week with two other girls.”

“Two?!”

She nods.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun. I’ll deal with it. It’s whatever.” She blows out her bangs. “I can’t think about him anymore. Not when we have a race to win.”

Our race is officially called and we line up on our blocks.

Some people might think it’s weird that I’m competing against my best friend. I think if anything, it’s made our friendship stronger. We’ve spent months competing against one another in practice. We’re always striving to improve, always trying to beat our personal best.

My eyes flick over to the stands. Tucker is sitting on the edge of his seat, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. His eyes are glued to mine. He nods at me, and I smile, refocusing my attention on the track ahead of me.

I always run my best when he’s in the crowd cheering for me.

The gun fires and then we’re off. My singular focus is on the finish line, the breath in my lungs, my legs and my feet moving as quick as they can. Time stretches impossibly long and rushes past in the blink of an eye.

Before I know it, I’m crossing the finish line a breath ahead of Fred. She’s panting, breathing hard, but she finds it in her to give me a high five and a hug.

Coach gives me a nod and a pat on the back. “Good job,” she says, before her focus turns to the next race.

Fred and I grab water on the sidelines. Tucker is still tracking me. He doesn’t look nearly as worried now. He’s smiling, shaking his head at whatever Barrett is saying.