Page 24 of Spring Awakening

“However hard. It won’t budge,” she replies, her voice as choppy as she thought it would be. She can blame it on thefreezing weather if he dares mention it. Zach hums, and she takes the chance to stand back up, if only so she doesn’t do something stupid like crawl to him. Mali’s really not a sexual person. Truly. She only likes to sleep with people when there is a connection. She wants to like them; she wants them to like her. She’s also sure her knickers are getting wetter with every brush of Zach’s knuckles against her neck.

“I don’t have a hair tie,” she mumbles.

“I’ve got it,” he replies. Mali distracts herself from his voice by taking more photos of the team. She zooms in on Ezra. His head is thrown back as he drinks a water. Someone’s going to sponsor that photo alone.

Zach tightens her ponytail, and she feels it slip a little the moment he lets go, but it doesn’t fall out. She reaches her hand around to feel.

“What is that?” she asks, and he steps to her side.Holy fucking shit.He has no T-shirt on, and her tongue feels too big for her body. Mali knew Zach was built. Everyone can tell he’s built like a fucking brick wall. The muscles in his back are visible under everything he wears, the lines in his shoulders follow her anytime he walks past her, and she daydreams about his chest when she’s not even thinking. Her swallow is audible, but Zach either doesn’t hear it over the wind, or he doesn’t want to entertain her.

“My armband,” he replies, as he looks out onto the pitch. Mali wonders if he’s cold. “Here.”

He turned his face to look at her, so she takes what he offers her without looking. She’ll really do whatever he asks if he drops an octave. Hussy. Mali grips the material in her hand hard enough to force her gaze away from his face, or his stomach, or God forbid it slips to his thighs. Fuck, what she’d do to his thighs.

“Your top?” she asks, seeing Azan in green letters over the back. “You want some shots with it?”

“I want you to put it on.”

“What?”

“It’s the long-sleeved one,” he says, bending down to riffle through his bag. Mali looks between him and the top. “Mali. You’re going to freeze to death. Put it on.”

“What if I don’t want to?” she asks. She does, though. She wonders if it will smell like him, and how likely it is that she can sneak it home.

“Do you think I won’t put it on you?” he challenges.

Mali narrows her eyes. “Not if I asked you not to.”

Zach laughs lightly. “You’re such a brat. Just put the top on.”

Mali wonders if everything he’s saying has a sexual undertone, or if she’s looking for one. Either way, she stands her ground, though she’s not sure why. She’s fucking freezing.

Zach closes his eyes like he’s three seconds away from tossing her over his shoulder and forcing her to go back inside. She’s sure he could throw her around. It’s nothing she’s actively thought about before, but knowing he could do whatever he wanted with barely any effort is something that does it for her.

He lets out a deep breath. “Please…” His eyes track her face, and she’s never seen him look so worried. “Put it on.”

“You’re so bossy,” she mutters, but she hands him her phone and puts the T-shirt on. God, it is nice, and she brings her hands to her mouth to try and warm them up.

“You should leave a spare jacket here,” Zach says, using her phone to take photos of the team. She’s excited to see how different they will look from hers.

“But then how will I steal your jerseys?”

Zach groans, and it warms her to her toes. She reaches for her phone, and her fingers brush over his knuckles. Zach all but snatches his hand away, and Mali wonders if she’s really thatcold, but before she can move, he grabs her wrist, then rolls the sleeves of his T-shirt up so they don’t cover her hands. His calloused palms against her make her heat up from her toes. His fingers touch her forearm, and for the longest time, she’s going to think about other ways he could use them. Perv.

“Get on the pitch so I can go inside,” Mali says, once he let’s go of her hands. Mali does a few small jumps to keep her circulation moving. Zach pulls a scarf out of his bag, and Mali waits for a full feather-down coat to be next. Before she can scoff, he’s wrapped it around her and tucked it neatly under her chin. He pulls her ponytail out lightly, and his fingers rest behind her ear.

He smiles at her, just once. “Cute.”

“Does my hair look ridiculous?” she asks, and he thinks about it too long—so, yes—but he did it for her, so she’s unlikely to take it out anytime soon. Zach reaches for his phone and then holds it up so he can take a photo of her. She turns to the side so he can see her hair. There must be something off about the lighting, because he repositions a couple times. Then, before she can tell him it doesn’t matter, he rests his hand under her jaw, tilting her head slightly. His thumb rubs against her cheek, and she laughs lightly, looking over at him.

“It tickles,” she says, and he smiles at her, dimple and everything. God, she could look at him for an embarrassingly long time.

The whistle blows, and Zach jumps, his hand dropping from her face. He clears his throat, then shows her his phone. The sky is pink behind her—one of those annoyingly good sunrises that people who get up early gloat about seeing.

“Oh,” she replies, looking at the photo. It’s cute. Really cute. A photo she’d expect to see on Pinterest. She can see his name on the back of her top, his hand on her face, his face in her mind. “That’s pretty.”

“You are,” he replies quietly. Then he closes his phone, throws it in his bag, and turns to run away. “Make me look good, Okeye,” he calls back to her.

She wonders if there’s any other way for him to look.

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