Page 49 of Your Pucking Mom

I closed my eyes and reminded myself to thank Alex but tried to keep everything steady. When I opened my eyes, Coach’s were locked on me.

“That’s extra kind of you, Alex,” Coach added, then I could’ve sworn he winked at me, but I avoided his gaze as much as I could.

From the back of the line, Thomas, a rookie defensive player, shouted, “Sure, you don’t mind keepinghercompany.” His tone was teasing, tempting me to march over and give him a good-natured punch in the nose.

“That’s fucking rude,” the child barked. I didn’t agree with him on much, but this I did.

I started to say something, but Alex interrupted me. “Alright, all settled. I want to get fucked up when we get there, so can we hurry and sit the fuck down?”

Turning around, I gave Alex a silent nod of gratitude as I slid into the seat directly across from Auburn.

She wore a light-purple hoodie paired with black leggings, with her curly hair gathered into a messy bun atop her head.

As the others settled into their seats around us, she threw on oversized headphones that engulfed her ears. Fiddling with her phone, I leaned over and brushed her knee to grab her attention.

Startled, she yanked off her headphones with a little yelp. “Oh…”

Shaking my head, I said, “I just wanted to see what had you so engrossed.”

She responded with a shy smile. Everyone else was settled, and the flight attendants were giving the safety briefing.

“What is it?” I said, my voice hushed.

“I hate flying.” She tucked the phone next to her, looking out the window.

“And your phone helps?” I asked.

“Ugh.” She threw her hands in the air, and Dirks, sitting in the pod of four across from us, furrowed his brows at me. I shrugged at him, then he put on his headphones and settled into his seat.

“I was playing UNO, okay?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her cute chest.

“Oh?” I asked, trying not to laugh. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard of anyone under the age of sixty who played UNO.

“Shut up,” she said, laughing. “I hate flying, and somehow, the game distracts me enough to get through a flight.”

The corners of my lips twisted into a smile as the flight attendants stopped with their speech and turned off the lights. The plane pulled onto the tarmac, and I gestured over toward Auburn’s phone.

“Go on, don’t let me stop you.” She nodded without looking at me, staring out, but her hand gripped the arm of the chair, her knuckles whitening further with every passing second.

I grabbed my headphones and leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes. I had to remind myself that it wasn’t my responsibility to make sure she was okay. Maybe this was denial and the person sitting in front of me wasn’t the woman I imagined every time I pumped myself in the shower.

I knew she was coming on this trip, and the entire night before I had tried desperately to convince myself I was over her. The bubbles I had been feeling in my stomach were just because it was our first away game of the season, and not because I would seeheragain.

I was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine.

However, when I glimpsed her golden curls in the dimness of the plane’s cabin, I found myself unable to look away.

She sat there, slightly tense, the soft glow from her phone illuminating her face in the dimly lit cabin. With each flicker of the screen as she tapped away at the UNO cards, her movements seemed almost mechanical, a distraction from the nervous energy radiating from her.

Her grip on the seat tightened with every passing minute, her knuckles turning white against the dark upholstery. Despite the rhythmic hum of the plane’s engines and the muffled chatter from the team, her attention was fixated on the window beside her, where the world outside transformed into a blur of lights and darkness as the aircraft gained altitude.

I couldn’t help but watch her, my gaze drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, the subtle flutter of her lashes as she blinked, the way her lips parted ever so slightly with each shallow breath—all of it captivated me in a way I couldn’t fully comprehend.

Part of me wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but I hesitated, unsure if my presence would be welcomed. Instead, I remained seated across from her, feeling utterly helpless.

As the plane soared higher into the night sky, her anxiety seemed to escalate, the tension in her shoulders palpable in the confined space of the cabin. It was as if she were wrestling with some invisible force, a battle waged silently within her mind.

I shifted in my seat, the urge to soothe her overwhelming, yet the fear of overstepping bound me in place. I longed to ease her burden, to offer her reassurance in the face of uncertainty, but the words remained lodged in my throat, unspoken and heavy.

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