Page 25 of Curveball: The Baby and the Grump

His hand comes up to my shoulder, caressing me gently with his thumb, and then he leans closer, his face a hair’s breadth away from mine, so close that I can almost feel it before it happens. My heart leaps, dancing around my stomach as they both cry out that this is right; this is exactly what I want.

And then he says, “Shit!” and reels away — and just like that, the moment is over.

“What?” I ask, panicking and taking a step back.

“I hit my stupid elbow on the door,” he mutters, glaring down at it as he cradles his arm to his chest.

Not sure what else to do, I step into the house. As he follows, I say, “I can take a look at it if you want.” I’m not too concerned about it being damaged because it was probably the shock more than anything that hurt him.

He shakes his head, then gives me the widest smile I’ve ever seen on him. “No, you’re okay. It’s already stopped hurting. I think I just caught it at a weird angle.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” I say mildly, trying to mask my fluttering heart and crushed feelings.

“Me too.”

We don’t say anything else, and I decide just to make a speedy exit. He waves me goodbye as I leave, and even as I get into my car and start driving away, I can still see him stood there by the door, watching.

The second I’m out of view, I burst into tears and feel stupid for it. Today has been one hell of a roller coaster, and I don’t know how else I’m meant to process it. I’ll stop before I get back — I don’t need Matt to ask any questions I can’t answer about this nothing that’s happening.

But I can’t help but wonder if I should have tried again, if I should have been braver and leaned in for the kiss that we were so close to having.

If I should’ve tried harder for this thing that I was so close to wanting.

CHAPTER 15

JACKSON

ONE WEEK LATER

Isit by the window staring out, clenching my fists to try and stop myself from getting up and pacing. Freya will be here soon. She’ll be here, and she’ll bring my chart just like she promised she would yesterday, and she’ll tell me I can go back to playing — and then this whole nightmare will be behind me.

It’s what I have to tell myself, anyway. I have to believe that this month of agony is going to be over any minute now. I don’t know what I’ll do otherwise.

Maybe staring out the window isn’t my best look, though. I’ll just back off a little bit. Not too far, so that I can’t see when she pulls up in the drive, but just enough so that when she gets out, she doesn’t see me watching and waiting for her like I’m insane.

I can’t wait for this nightmare to be over.

At least something good came from it, though — I found her. I’ve only seen her a handful of times since we went to my mother’s, and I’ve missed her. I mean, it’s only been about a week, but still, I’ve become so used to seeing her almost every day that not seeing her for more than two days is weird.

I’m just glad it hasn’t been too strained since what happened after my mom’s. That’s the kind of moment that breaks friendships — an awkward “will we, won’t we?” that some people never bounce back from. But we’ve just carried on, “business as usual,” even if nothing has been the same since.

I should have just kissed her the other day. That’s the truth.

She clearly wanted it too. It’s not just my imagination. She was leaning into it just as much as I was. If she really hadn’t wanted me to touch her, she would have pulled away. I can’t imagine she’s the kind of girl to get peer-pressured into doing anything she doesn’t want to.

And if she’d told me to stop, I would have done. I’m not a bad person. I don’t want to force anyone into anything. But the way her eyes had half closed, her lips slightly opened, her chin tilted up towards me… How are those signs of anything other than attraction?

If she doesn’t want me after all that, she’s giving me very mixed messages. Somehow, I don’t think I’ve got my messages mixed at all.

Finally, I spot her car and jump to my feet. But I don’t race to the door. I force myself to walk slowly, counting my steps so by the time she knocks, I still have a couple of paces to go before I get there.

“Good morning,” she says, waving the paper in front of my face. “Guess what I’ve got, before you even ask.”

“I was going to say hello first, actually,” I say with a pout as I let her in.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” she says like she doesn’t believe me.

I tear open the envelope and scan the results. “I’m cleared for PT? That means I’m better, right? I can go back to playing!”

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