Page 19 of The Longshot

But that’s the thing: love in my life has always been on the outside. I’ve never felt it within.

Yes, I get love from my parents.

Yes, I get love from my family.

Hell, I even receive love for the sport that consumes my life.

But I know it’s not the same.

It’s not the kind of love that wakes you up in the morning and puts you to bed at night.

It’s not the kind of love that consumes your thoughts every hour of every day.

And it’s certainly not the kind of love that when you look into your person's eyes, you see your whole world and more.

That’s the kind of love I’m searching for.

That’s the kind of love I need.

Yet, if there’s one thing I know about love, it’s that it can’t be forced. It’s a sad lesson to learn, believe me. In the past year alone, I’ve lost count of how many times I’d told my mates I was in love—turns out love should likely last a little longer than a weekend and not solely involve a mattress.

I guess I’m still learning the difference between love and lust.

Fault #5: I’ve still got a lot to learn.

For now, I hold onto something else, something just as powerful… hope. Love will happen naturally for me. Love will happen when I least expect it, and boy, am I ready to have my own Delaney Matthews.

“Here you go, Wilks.” Delaney eagerly hands me a slice of cake.

“Thanks, Laney,” I call her by her nickname, reaching to take it out of her grasp, only when I do, her eyes gravitate towards my jumper.

“What happened there?” she asks curiously. “Did you drop something?”

I peer down, noticing that I’ve hardly made an attempt to rid the dried frosting from my shirt, and quickly, I devise a plan to cover up my tracks.

“Coach didn’t tell you?”

Delaney tilts her head in confusion before peering over at Coach. “Tell me what?”

Coach’s nostrils flare as he shoots me a glare. “Shut up, Wilks,” his eyes tell me once more. “Shut up.”

I don’t.

“Oh, you know, about what happened earlier, when Coach said he stubbed his toe?”

Her eyes tell me she’s following.

“Well, when that happened, Coach accidentally dropped the cake on me.”

Delaney’s head snaps back in Coach’s direction. “You did what?”

Coach attempts to speak, but he’s virtually speechless. He’s so fun to mess with that I don’t even care if I get a bollocking for this. The look on his face is worth the fifty laps he’ll make me run next practice.

“He did…” I beat him to a rebuttal, shaking my head in dismay as I frown. “You know, he wasn’t looking where he was going. Must be the old age catching up to him.”

“I’m only thirty-two?—”

“Don’t worry, Delaney.” I ignore him and soothe her troubled eyes. “Lucky for you, I was able to get a new cake, and…” I gesture back at it. “It looks perfect. See? Everyone’s loving it.”

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