Two weeks later, I was in my room getting ready for the Sub-Regional Tournament. Taking first place in the Area Tournament meant we'd have the home court advantage. Ally had supplied the team with matching hair ribbons—they were black with white volleyballs—and I was tying mine in place when my phone buzzed on the bathroom counter.
Jamie: dock 2 minutes
I ran to my bedroom window, dropping my ribbon in the process. The dock was empty. I tossed my phone on the bed and hauled ass down the stairs and through the back yard, my feet hitting the dock about the time Jamie propelled himself out of the water like a water god, something otherworldly. The wood shook when he landed, surprisingly graceful for someone with his body mass. Water streamed down his chest and stomach. He shook his head, droplets of water, flying from his hair.
"Hi." His ghost of a smile brightened his eyes, and all I wanted to do was run and launch myself at him.
"Hi." I took a step toward him but he made no move to come any closer, his eyes scanning over my shoulder, presumably looking for my dad. "He's not here."
"Yeah, I made sure he wasn't before I texted."
"What are you doing here?"
I'd run into him the day after the training accident when I'd gone to the hospital to see Donovan. Jamie had stayed through the night, and when I'd expressed my concern about him being exposed to all those hospital germs, he'd assured me he'd used plenty of sanitizer. He might be afraid of flying but he wasn't afraid of germs. I hadn't seen him since.
He'd texted me exactly once on the morning my picture had made it on the front of the sports pages in the newspaper—a heart, and a smiley, and a pair of lips.
"I wanted to wish you good luck in your game. I know how big a deal this is for you."
"Thanks. I'm pretty nervous." Though him being here tamed some of the pre-game butterflies.
"You'll do great," he said, fixing me with those eyes, the lashes still spiked with moisture. "I wish I could come."
"Me too." My shiver had nothing to do with the soft breeze blowing and everything to do with the way he devoured me with his gaze. His nostrils flared on a long inhale.
"You changed your body wash."
"I'm surprised you can smell me from way over there."
His mouth crooked. "I don't want to get your jersey wet."
We stood there staring at each other, making up for lost time. I wanted to absorb every detail in case it was another two weeks before I saw him again. There were too many two weeks between now and my eighteenth birthday.
"Can I kiss you?" He'd never asked to kiss me before and he sure didn't have to ask now.
"Not if I kiss you first."
We met somewhere in the middle. The kiss started off sweet and like always, delved into something deeper. When I thought I couldn't possibly take anymore, Jamie lifted his mouth and gathered me against his chest, holding me tight against his damp skin.
"I miss you, Erin."
I hugged him tighter, burying my face in his neck.
"You better go," he said as he pulled away, dropping his arms to his sides. We were no longer touching, and it hurt to think how long it might be before I saw him again. I had the feeling this was a one-time deal. He wouldn't risk defying my dad again.
"Wish me luck."
"You don't need it." He slapped me playfully on my black spandex shorts. "This is what you do."