Page 77 of Sporty Girls Don't Fall For Loners

He thinks for a moment as he plays with a stem he broke off one of his apples. “Not sure. It seems peaceful, but it looks like a lot of hard work. What about you?”

“Maybe,” I say. “I don’t mind the hard work as long as I love what I’m doing.”

We decide to move on. The trees are all of the same type, and we’ll have to walk further along to find a new species.

“So did you watch any more true crime shows?” I ask.

“Some. There actually was this one episode you would have hated.”

“Really? Okay, now I need to know.”

He spends a few minutes telling me about a horrible crime someone committed. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, not able to imagine that someone is capable of such a horror. But Kade assures me that the cops found him and he got what he deserved.

“I don’t watch the show for the crime,” he tells me. “I watch it for the justice.”

His tone is different. More…solemn, I think? And I also sense determination. I wonder if there’s more to this. Why is justice so important to him?

“Well, I’m sure—”

My words cut off when I trip and go flying toward the ground. But just before my face plants into the grass, a strong arm wraps around my waist and lifts me a few inches in the air. Then I’m carefully deposited on the ground, on my two feet.

“You okay?” Kade asks.

I glance down at where I tripped, my cheeks warm. “The ground’s not even. I mean, duh the ground’s not even. We’re in an orchard.” I lift my eyes to his and laugh, embarrassed. “Well, that’s strike two. One more and I’ll end up on the ground.”

“As long as I’m with you, I won’t let you fall.”

My eyes widen. His do, too, as though he has no idea why he said that.

Why did he say that?

“My hero,” I laugh lightly. “Though I never thought I’d actually be a damsel in distress. Twice.”

“You’re not a damsel in distress,” he says. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

I raise my brow at him. “No I’m not.”

“You kidding? I saw you on the field with football players twice your size. You, Zoey Hastings, are made of steel.”

My face flushes even more. I don’t think a guy has ever complimented me before. Well, other than my family and friends.

I play around with my apple picker, digging it into the ground. “Thanks. You’re made of steel, too.”

He shakes his head.

“Yes you are. I have no idea what you’ve been through, but I know it was tough. And the fact that you’re here and standing and…well, I think you’re very strong.”

“I…thanks,” he says.

We both stand here in silence.

Then I say, “We should probably get moving if we want more apples.” I lift my mostly-empty bag. “My apples need more friends.”

“Yeah, mine, too.”

We walk for a bit more, not really saying much to each other, before coming across a new type of apple. I think they’re gala? Again, I manage to reach the low-hanging ones, but then I catch sight of one higher up. The way it shines in the sun makes it look way too tempting.

“You’re mine,” I say as I raise my apple picker. It takes a few tries to learn how to use the thing, but I manage to snag the apple and drop it into my bag. “Woohoo! That is what I call a success.”

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