Page 69 of The Sky Between Us

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Two sleepy hazel eyes met mine and a loud yawn escaped her. “Morning,” she grumbled, snuggling closer to me. “Thanks for allowing us to sleep in the car.”

Planting a kiss on her forehead I smiled. “Anything for you.”

“It feels… good,” she said sitting up between hisses as she unpeeled her body from the seat. The air still smelled like lust mixed with my gingerbread air freshener that Hazel insisted we get because it was getting close to Christmas. At least it wasn’t pumpkin spice, which made my head hurt for a full month straight in October.

“I’m glad.”

“Are you sore?” Worry painted her voice, making me chuckle.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you this question?” I asked back with an arched brow.

Hazel replied with an eyeroll, as she slipped into my T-shirt, I was wearing during the game yesterday. Unpeeling myself too, I couldn’t help but think how painful waxing could be for girls. And I liked a little pain, but not like this.

“We are never doing this again.”

“Deal,” she smiled at me with her beaming smile and gave me a quick kiss. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” I replied without thinking.

Hazel reached out and touched my bracelet that I used to toy with whenever I was nervous. “What is its meaning? And the boats.”

Catching her hand, I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and smiled. “It’s quite stupid, Camilla gave it to me when I was going away for University. She got it for me when she was on Summer Intensive with the Miami City Ballet. She said it reminded her of me, because from her ballet class, she could always see the boats leaving the harbor. But then eventually, by the end of the day, before she left, they always came back. She wanted me to have a boat in my room to always remember to come back to her like the boats did to the harbor. The wooden boat had this rope around it and jokingly I put it around my wrist when she gifted it to me, saying I’ll always wear it… and it stayed there ever since like a constant reminder of her.”

Hazel hugged me tight and I felt her smile against my shoulder. “That’s so nice. I love it.”

Slipping the rope off my wrist, I carefully placed it on hers, watching her eyes turn wide from surprise. “Aiden…”

“Keep it,” I said with a small smile. “That way… no matter what you will know we will find a way back to each other.”

Tears glimmered in her eyes and she nodded. “Thank you.”

Leaning in, I captured her lips with mine, tasting them just to make sure she was still the same girl I kissed last night and she was. Her mouth opened for me and her body molded into mine. We belonged together and every piece of me fit well against her. My every breath was synchronized with hers and even our hearts beat in the same wild rhythm whenever we were around each other. I’ve never known that one can get lost like this in another person, but I didn’t regret it. Not for a second.

Later that week we were having a strategy meeting in preparation for our upcoming game. We religiously re-watched our own tapes finding mistakes in our strategy, holes in our defense and identifying areas of improvement. I wasn’t a note taker when it came to school, but when it was time to review our game plan and create a developmental plan for each player, I wrote down every word. Coach was detail oriented and shouted through most of our tapes. Our heads bent over a notebook or iPad to scribble down everything he said so the next day during practice we could work on those things. My brain was getting fried from all the information, but I loved it. There was a certain beauty in coming together as a team and working out strategy, supporting and helping each other grow. It was true what most teams said: we were only as strong as our weakest member. Not everyone wanted to go pro, not everyone was dedicated to the game like me, but losing against Harvard would end our season. We were in the final four and during the last three years we’ve always won. It wasn’t the time to lose. Especially not to Harvard, and not to Jake Kellerman. I wasn’t having that.

A door rattled and all of us turned to stare at Hazel who strolled in. She was back in her skinny jeans and a cut off sweater as a cloud of perfume followed her. She was clutching a thick notebook to her chest as she kept her eyes on her father and walked with determination toward him. Her walk might have confused most people, making them believe she was confident, but I saw the shadow of doubt clouding her eyes and the way she bit the inside of her cheek. Small things that only I could notice.

Before I realized, my body moved and followed her to the screen where coach was standing. Planting my hand on her hips, I held her as she faced her father.

“Hazel, what are you doing here?” he asked, brows furrowed and confusion painting his face with a hint of anger.

“I found something,” she said, suddenly sounding younger than before and more innocent. Her confident armor dropped and my arms tightened around her, holding her closer to my body.

Coach arched a brow and Hazel went on.

“Mom told me you were looking for your Stuyvesant notes, but that you threw them out the moment we moved. It brought you a great deal of pain to hold onto it with all your remarks about… Jake.”

I watched his face change, his guard raising from the mention of his name. It wasn’t only Hazel who was betrayed, but Coach as well. I didn’t even realize he probably looked at him like a son, training him, preparing him for college and going pro, just for him to betray him in the worst possible way.

Hazel extended her arm and dropped the notebook in front of her father. “This is his soccer playbook from the first two years. The tricks you taught him and his interpretation and thoughts. He left it accidentally and… I never got the opportunity to return it.” She nudged the booklet closer and shrugged. “Take it, teach them and wipe the floor with Harvard.”

My heart sped up, eyeing the notebook. Was that considered cheating? No, right? It was a fifteen-year-old kid’s tricks, they might have changed or upgraded, but he was fifteen when he flashed his tricks and made Harvard sign him two years before graduating. He might have improved ever since but these were his fundamentals.

Coach must have had a similar battle, his eyes jumping between the booklet, his daughter and me. He was torn. Part of him wanted to use it, while the other part of him wanted to win clean. We knew we could beat them. But both Coach and I had a personal agenda, and he understood the risk of me playing against Kellerman. I was my team’s biggest liability, because I was in love with his ex-girlfriend, and he knew that.

Coach picked up the book and extended it towards me. “Study it.”

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