Beautiful Player
Page 110
And with that last thought in mind, I took Will’s hand when we crossed through the finish line together.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Several yards off to the side of the finish line, Hanna walked in small circles, then bent down and cupped her hands over her knees.
“Holy shit,” she gasped, facing the ground. “I feel amazing. That was amazing.”
Volunteers brought us Luna bars and bottles of Gatorade and we gulped them down. I was so f**king proud of her, and I couldn’t hold back from pulling her into a sweaty, breathless hug, kissing the top of her head.
“You were amazing.” I closed my eyes, pressing my face to her hair. “Hanna, I am so proud of you.”
She froze in my arms and then slid her hands to my side, simply bracing there, her face in my neck. I could feel her inhaling and exhaling, could feel her hands shaking against me. For some reason, I didn’t think it was only the adrenaline from the race.
Finally, she whispered, “I think we should go get our things.”
I’d oscillated so wildly between confident and wrecked all week, and now that I was with her, I didn’t particularly want to let her out of my sight. We turned to head back toward the tents; with the race snaking through Central Park, the finish line ended up only a few blocks from where we’d started. I listened to her breathing, watched her feet as she walked. I could tell she was exhausted.
“I’m guessing you’ve heard about Sara,” she said, looking down and fidgeting with her race number. She pulled out the pins, took it off, and looked at it.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Pretty amazing.”
“I saw her last night,” she said. “She’s so excited.”
“I saw Max on Tuesday.” I swallowed, feeling so f**king nervous all of a sudden. Beside me, Hanna faltered a little. “I went out with the guys that night. He has the expected look of terror and glee.”
She laughed, and it was genuine, and soft and—fuck—I’d missed it.
“What are you up to after this?” I asked, ducking so she’d look up at me.
And when she did, it was there, the something I knew I hadn’t imagined from the weekend before. I could still feel her sliding over me in the dark guest room, could still hear her quiet whisper-beg, Don’t break me.
It had been the second time she’d said it, and here I’d been the one left broken.
She shrugged and looked away, navigating through the dense crowd as we drew nearer to the starting line tents. Panic started to well in my chest; I wasn’t ready for goodbye yet.
“I was probably going to head home and shower. Get some lunch.” She frowned. “Or stop for lunch on the way home. I’m not sure I have anything edible at my place, actually.”
“Old shopping habits die hard,” I noted dryly.
She gave a guilty wince. “Yeah. I’ve been sort of burying myself in the lab all week. Just . . . good distraction.”
The words came out rushed, pressed together with how out of breath I felt: “I’d really love to hang out, and I have stuff for sandwiches, or salads. You could come over, or . . .” I trailed off when she stopped walking and turned to face me, looking bewildered and then . . . adoring.
Blinking away, I felt my chest squeeze. I tried to tamp down the impossible hope clawing up my throat. “What?” I asked, sounding more annoyed than I meant. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Smiling, she said, “You’re probably the only man I know who keeps his fridge so well stocked.”
I felt my brows pull together in confusion. This had caused her to stop walking and stare at me? Cupping the back of my neck, I mumbled, “I try to keep healthy stuff at home so I don’t go out and eat junk.”
She stepped closer—close enough to feel a loose strand of her hair when the wind blew it across my neck. Close enough to smell the light scent of her sweat, to remember how f**king amazing it felt to make her sweat. I dropped my gaze to her lips, wanting to kiss her so much it made my skin ache.
“I think you’re amazing, Will,” she said, licking her lips under the pressure of my attention. “And stop smoldering at me. There’s only so much I can take from you today.”
Before I could process any of this, she turned and moved toward the women’s tent to retrieve her things. Numbly, I went the opposite way, to get my house keys, my extra socks, and the paperwork I’d bundled in my running jacket. When I emerged, she was waiting for me, holding a small duffel bag.
“So,” I started, struggling to keep my distance. “You’re coming over?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Several yards off to the side of the finish line, Hanna walked in small circles, then bent down and cupped her hands over her knees.
“Holy shit,” she gasped, facing the ground. “I feel amazing. That was amazing.”
Volunteers brought us Luna bars and bottles of Gatorade and we gulped them down. I was so f**king proud of her, and I couldn’t hold back from pulling her into a sweaty, breathless hug, kissing the top of her head.
“You were amazing.” I closed my eyes, pressing my face to her hair. “Hanna, I am so proud of you.”
She froze in my arms and then slid her hands to my side, simply bracing there, her face in my neck. I could feel her inhaling and exhaling, could feel her hands shaking against me. For some reason, I didn’t think it was only the adrenaline from the race.
Finally, she whispered, “I think we should go get our things.”
I’d oscillated so wildly between confident and wrecked all week, and now that I was with her, I didn’t particularly want to let her out of my sight. We turned to head back toward the tents; with the race snaking through Central Park, the finish line ended up only a few blocks from where we’d started. I listened to her breathing, watched her feet as she walked. I could tell she was exhausted.
“I’m guessing you’ve heard about Sara,” she said, looking down and fidgeting with her race number. She pulled out the pins, took it off, and looked at it.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Pretty amazing.”
“I saw her last night,” she said. “She’s so excited.”
“I saw Max on Tuesday.” I swallowed, feeling so f**king nervous all of a sudden. Beside me, Hanna faltered a little. “I went out with the guys that night. He has the expected look of terror and glee.”
She laughed, and it was genuine, and soft and—fuck—I’d missed it.
“What are you up to after this?” I asked, ducking so she’d look up at me.
And when she did, it was there, the something I knew I hadn’t imagined from the weekend before. I could still feel her sliding over me in the dark guest room, could still hear her quiet whisper-beg, Don’t break me.
It had been the second time she’d said it, and here I’d been the one left broken.
She shrugged and looked away, navigating through the dense crowd as we drew nearer to the starting line tents. Panic started to well in my chest; I wasn’t ready for goodbye yet.
“I was probably going to head home and shower. Get some lunch.” She frowned. “Or stop for lunch on the way home. I’m not sure I have anything edible at my place, actually.”
“Old shopping habits die hard,” I noted dryly.
She gave a guilty wince. “Yeah. I’ve been sort of burying myself in the lab all week. Just . . . good distraction.”
The words came out rushed, pressed together with how out of breath I felt: “I’d really love to hang out, and I have stuff for sandwiches, or salads. You could come over, or . . .” I trailed off when she stopped walking and turned to face me, looking bewildered and then . . . adoring.
Blinking away, I felt my chest squeeze. I tried to tamp down the impossible hope clawing up my throat. “What?” I asked, sounding more annoyed than I meant. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Smiling, she said, “You’re probably the only man I know who keeps his fridge so well stocked.”
I felt my brows pull together in confusion. This had caused her to stop walking and stare at me? Cupping the back of my neck, I mumbled, “I try to keep healthy stuff at home so I don’t go out and eat junk.”
She stepped closer—close enough to feel a loose strand of her hair when the wind blew it across my neck. Close enough to smell the light scent of her sweat, to remember how f**king amazing it felt to make her sweat. I dropped my gaze to her lips, wanting to kiss her so much it made my skin ache.
“I think you’re amazing, Will,” she said, licking her lips under the pressure of my attention. “And stop smoldering at me. There’s only so much I can take from you today.”
Before I could process any of this, she turned and moved toward the women’s tent to retrieve her things. Numbly, I went the opposite way, to get my house keys, my extra socks, and the paperwork I’d bundled in my running jacket. When I emerged, she was waiting for me, holding a small duffel bag.
“So,” I started, struggling to keep my distance. “You’re coming over?”
