By the time I whip back to face the field, Drake is already standing right below us. The barrier separating the field from the bleachers reaches his chest, but I’m close enough to touch him if I stand up.
“You came,” he says, almost sounding surprised.
And pleased.
Serena eagerly leans forward. “Hi, Drake.”
“Hey.” He barely glances at her before he turns back to me. “Enjoying the game?”
“It’s always fun to watch guys crash into each other for no apparent reason.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” His gaze is full of heat as it passes over me. “The score is tied up. I need some good luck.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning…why don’t you give me a good luck kiss?”
I am excruciatingly aware of the fact that we have an audience. “Very funny.”
“I’m not laughing,” he points out. “And I can’t get back on the field without that kiss.”
A few feet away, Coach Cameron is frantically looking around as he tries to figure out where Drake went. “I just heard the referee blow his whistle.”
Drake raises an eyebrow. “So?”
“Doesn’t that mean the game is about to start?”
“Probably.”
“So, shouldn’t you get back out there?”
“Not until I get my good luck kiss. Without it, I might tear a ligament or something.”
Anya and her friends are watching us like they have front row seats for the best show on the planet.
Coach Cameron shouts something expletive-laden and waves wildly at Drake from across the field. There are rumblings in the bleachers as people crane their necks to see what is going on.
The longer I let him draw this out, the bigger our audience is going to get.
Abruptly standing, I lean across the barrier and press my lips against his before pulling away. It’s so brief that I hesitate to even call it a kiss.
“Just get back on the field.”
Drake grins as he backs slowly away, seeming unconcerned with the spectacle we’re making of ourselves. “You got it.”
“Nothing going on, huh?” Anya’s voice is smug as she shifts back in her seat. “I think the lady doth protest too much.”
This lady might have bitten off way more than she can chew.