Page 166 of Falling Offsides

“They signed that hot British player recently,” Sabine croons next to Marley, fanning herself.

“Seriously?” Auguste snaps at her.

“What? I’ve never seen so many tattoos and that much attitude in my life. I could think of worse teams to work for.”

“Stop it.” Marley elbows her, playfully. “You’re going to give him a heart attack.”

I think an aneurysm is most likely given the hard clench of Auguste’s jaw and the pissed flush glowing bright on his face.

“The Crescents are tipped to go all the way this year,” Étienne says, changing the conversation. A hint of pride tinges his voice when he adds, “Good on you for getting in with them. They have a great reputation for looking after their staff.”

“Oh… it’s just an internship, so...”

“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Rina says, lifting her glass of rosé. “Cheers to everyone and all your endeavors. It’s going to be a big, wonderful year. New family, new babies… new adventures.”

“Here, here!” Eddie toasts with her.

“To a girl,” Sabine toasts with Marley. “Pink skates!”

“Good luck, Auggie,” Étienne taunts again.

Auguste clinks his drink to his. “Don’t cry too hard when I run circles around your defense.”

They’re all toasting one another when Auguste taps his glass with mine. My stare flashes to his and before I can utter a word, his mouth is on mine. The kiss chaste and sweet while his fingers dig deep into his marks on my thighs, hidden beneath the light fabric of my maxi dress.

When he pulls back with a light nip, his disposable camera is back in his hand.

“To the best memories,” he murmurs with a click.

“The best memories.” I hug his arm tighter, refusing to let go while we eat.

Dinner continues to sunset, and as we turn back to land, Auguste takes me up to the top deck. We’re alone, the sun dipping low, painting the horizon in fuchsia and tangerine. The breeze tugs at my frizzy curls and the salt air kisses my skin as I wriggle deeper into Auguste’s body behind me. His arms wrapped around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder while I hold on to the railing.

The shutter clicks again and my chest clenches tighter.

“Out of film,” he huffs. “Guess I’ll have to remember this one the old-fashioned way.”

He pulls out his phone with a chuckle and snaps a selfie of the two of us. The last time anyone took this many photos of me was before my mom moved us away from my dad. There were no more photos when he was taken out of the picture.

Auguste turns me in his arms, stare roving over my face like there are a million things he needs to say and there isn’t a single word left to say them. It’s the feeling that’s been roiling inside me all day.

The music drifts softly from the deck below. The melody is light and bouncy, and when Auguste holds out his hand, I take it without hesitation.

Because it’s Auguste.

Because when his hand is in mine, the whole world feels quieter, brighter… better.

We sway under the darkening sky, the motion of the boat beneath our feet making every step just a little off balance. Every little bit perfectly imperfect like us. Me, him, and this sneaky, unexpected thing that’s grown between us. This connection that I’ve never shared with anyone else and that I know I’ll never find outside of him and me.

I peer up at him, trying to steal one more perfect glance. A memorythat I’ll keep safe in my head and my heart. As always he beats me to it. Auguste’s already got his eyes on me, doing the same. Holding me like I’m some kind of miracle or phenomena. And even though it kills me to find my ache mirrored in his eyes, I don’t look away.

“If you didn’t have to leave,” he whispers, still rocking us from side to side, “would you want more?”

Always asking the hard hitting questions…

Rolling onto the tips of my toes, I press my forehead to his. Close my eyes. Breathe in his scent.

“It already feels like more,” I croak over his lips.

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