Except this feels nothing like that time.
This time, his smile is genuine. And my urge to dick-punch him has mellowed to a simmer.
“Sorry to mess up the outfit,” he says once I’m on the grass and unstrapping my heels. I toss them off to the side. “I have some spare socks in my bag if you want them.”
“I’m good.” I wiggle my toes. I’ll never complain about being barefoot in the summer. “Full disclosure, me throwing a football would end in an unintentional grounding call, every single time.”
“There’s no such thing as an unintentional grounding call.”
“Exactly. That’s how bad I am. They haven’t needed it until me.”
One of the boys hands Brooks a football. “Thanks, buddy.”
Then, because these little hellions really want to kill my mojo, the kid turns and hollers for the entire field to come watch their coach show me how to throw a football. In the stands, I see a few parents pull out their phones and point them at us.
“Oh God,” I mutter under my breath. “How mad will Josh be if a video of your girlfriend embarrassing herself on a football field makes the rounds online?”
“Can I tell you a secret, Pip? I can’t throw a football worth sh—crap. Can’t throw one worth crap. Hey, don’t look at me like that—I didn’t get paid to throw.” He laughs, raises his hands defensively when my jaw drops. “Josh won’t care about a video of you blowing a pass. Me, though? There’s a good chance I end up the laughingstock of the internet.”
“Please don’t say that. I can only handle one internet crisis at a time.” I contemplate him. “Hold on—you’re telling me there’s a decent chance I’d be better than you at throwing?”
“I wouldn’t saydecent.”
“Dick.” I shove him in the shoulder, but the damn wall of bricks doesn’t move an inch.
Brooks tuts. “Language, Pip.”
We have a full-on audience now—boys and girls watching us avidly, drills on the field long abandoned.
“Show her how you do it, Coach!”
“Yeah! Show us how far you can throw it.”
Brooks stares down at the ball in his hands. “I assume that flashing diversion tactic of yours won’t fly here.”
“You assume correctly,” I mutter through a smile. “We’re effing screwed.”
“We could fake our own deaths?”
I make a wishy-washy sound. “Tried that once. It’s harder than you think.”
A little girl approaches bravely, pointing at the ball in his hands. “You use the laces to help you throw.”
“That’s right, Brie.Exactlywhat I was just about to do.” Brooks pokes my side when I fail to kill a laugh. He positions his fingertips along the white laces on the football, then turns to the crowd now surrounding us. “On second thought, who wants to demonstrate a pass?”
Several little hands fly into the air, some bouncing up and down as their owners hop on the balls of their feet.
“Oh,he’s a quick thinker, folks. Consider me impressed.”
“I’m more than just a pretty face, Pip.” Brooks scans the group with all the patience of a seasoned schoolteacher before pointing to a tiny guy at the very back, doing his best to make himself visible above the taller kids around him. “What do you think, Jax? You want to show Siena how it’s done?”
I try to stifle a laugh, which just comes out as a snort. Brooks reaches back and pinches my ass. The snort turns into a gasp as Jax works his way through the crowd with enviable confidence.
“In front of the kids, Brooks? What will they think?”
“That ours is truly a love to aspire to.”
“Coat closet encounters aside?”