Page 97 of Near Miss

I nod, and I debate abandoning the coffee in favour of grabbing her off that chair, laying her down on the nearest surface, and fucking her until neither of us knows our own name.

But it’s not just sex and I don’t think it ever was.

The latte takes too long. I drop my head to the cupboard, hand flexed against the counter, thumb tapping out in impatience for the stupid thing to stop brewing.

It’s just these hours and I don’t want to spend a single second on something other than her.

I could probably kick a ball the entire length of the field when I see the screen flash to tell me it’s done.

She lifts her chin and offers me a rare smile when I hand it to her. She takes a sip, looking out to the windows revealing the slope of lawn, a copse of trees, and the lake, winking at us under the early-morning sunlight. Looking back to me, she shrugs theshoulder on display. “Should we make something up then? A historical event we can attach to your shipping containers?”

I grin, taking the mug from her hands and setting it down on the island. “Sure. To be known forevermore as the site where Greer Roberts let Beckett Davis in, and he didn’t waste a second of it.”

Her lips open just so, eyes sweep across my face, and before she can say anything, I’ve got my hands around the back of her neck, and my mouth on hers.

We’ve kissed before, but always as friends.

Never like this.

No rules. And she does open for me, I think. I can tell by the angle of her head, the way one hand tangles in the back of my hair, her fingers pulling taut, and her other hand snakes across my chest, down my stomach until it finds the edge of my shirt, and her fingers dig a line into my skin when she grabs it, tugging me closer.

Her full lips part, and I meet her tongue with mine, and it’s just this endless thing.

Two real people in a kitchen under the morning sun, an abandoned mug of coffee, hands scrambling, trying to get closer, and mouths moving together in this way that I hope tells her my heart is hers—it always has been.

And I think I might have hers, at least for now.

“Checkmate.”

“No shit.” My eyes cut up from the chessboard, propped up on a stump that’s supposed to be aesthetic, between our two Muskoka chairs at the end of the dock.

Greer shrugs, barely visible under my sweater. It’s huge on her—an old practice sweater I wear sometimes at the stadium, with the team logo stitched across the chest and my number along the hood. Her earmuffs hang around her neck, and she takes a sip of the mimosa sitting on the arm of her chair, the crystal flute glinting. “I tried to warn you.”

A muscle ticks in my cheek, and I feel like upturning the chessboard. I point at her. “We’re playing scrabble next time.”

“I’ll probably win at that, too.” She blinks at me from behind the glass. “I know a lot of words.”

“Yahtzee, then?” I ask, voice dry. “That’s all chance, and I’m too competitive to keep losing to you all afternoon. It’s going to give me more of a complex than I already have.”

Greer frowns, shaking her head, but her eyes shine. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not true. The roll of dice is by chance, but the rest of the game can be broken down strategically to maximize your score.”

I hold my arms open, like I can’t quite believe that, even though there’s nothing about the endless capability of her brain that could surprise me.

She tips her head back in laughter, and it’s this beautiful, throaty thing that echoes through me and out across the lake.

Lucky fucking trees, getting to hear that sound.

I grin, watching her as she keeps her head back, studying the clouds tumbling across the sky.

It’s a beautiful fall day—crisp, clear air that nips at your skin, shining sun and the smell of leaves hanging all around.

But it’s a more beautiful girl.

Her eyelids flutter closed, and she sighs, chin still tipped up at the clouds. Even the usually sharp lines of her face seem softer, like she’s relaxing and breathing out here without the expectations, and maybe she likes being with me like this.

“Will you”—I reach out my hand—“come over here?”

Greer blinks, looking back down to the earth, over at me, and nods softly.

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