Page 145 of The Keeper

I pulled out one of her blankets and hugged it, trying to breathe in traces of her scent. It only smelled like it’d been sitting in a plastic bin for fifteen years. “About you or in general?”

“About me.”

“Your fragile ego is showing,” I teased. Pausing for a second I held his pretty blue stare. “She said I’d totally get a crush on you if we met.”

The shy smile tugging at his mouth delighted me. It’s crazy how one innocuous sentiment written two decades ago could affect our present situation.

“Did you?” he asked.

“Did I what?”

“Get a crush on me when we met?”

Don’t say it.

“Maybe.” I struggled to hold back laughter. Especially after he pinned one of his devilish stares on me. He stroked his lower lip and grinned.

“We’ll deal with that later as well.”

After a couple minutes of quiet glances and charmed smiles while searching more boxes, I asked, “How old were you when you started playing soccer?”

“Six. My dad used to take me to one of the pitches near our house and let me kick the ball around.” He thumbed through a couple of text books before continuing, “I didn’t join a team until year four.”

“What’s year four?”

“Primary school,” he explained. “I guess you’d call it third grade in elementary school here?”

“Gotcha. Did you always want to be a goalkeeper?”

“No. I wanted to be a striker, like Cade.” His eyes lit up. “I actually played that position until I was eleven. Then one day our keeper got hurt and I filled in. I was really good at it, too. Really good. Poor kid never got the position back.” He chuckled to himself. “I reckon the rest is history.”

“No wonder you were always surrounded by girls. A striker and a keeper. Must have driven them crazy.”

A facetious smile curved his lips. “You mean like the person Britney’s singing about in this song?”

“Oh, one hundred percent.” I pulled out the elastic in my hair to redo my bun. I have no idea what my face looked like but whatever expression it held caused him to check me out from head to toe, exhale, and level an impassioned cobalt stare in my direction.

“What?” I asked, sounding more nervous than curious.

“It’s just…you’re wearing the same outfit you had on when we met on the side of the road. You even have your hair up the same way.”

I touched my hair before glancing down at my gray yoga pants, white tank top and gray hoodie. “Have I committed a fashion crime?”

The storage bay erupted with his loud, deep laugh. I loved seeing his carefree side just as much as his dark and dirty side.

“No, love.” His wide, crooked smile remained. “It just made me think of that day.”

“Good thoughts?”

“Yeah,” he answered, looking down. Apprehension flickered across his face. It didn’t last long. A mischievous glow brightened his eyes when he looked at me. “Need a new bin to dig through?”

“Yes, please.”

His lips quirked up. “Something else you’ll be saying to me later.”

He grabbed more boxes and bins as we continued to search for the diary. I found some of her journals but they were mostly from junior high.

Xavier’s genuine enjoyment while we bantered back and forth about random shit beguiled me. I learned he’s a Guardians of the Galaxy guy while I’m firmly team Captain America.

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