Page 117 of The List of Things

“I’ll be just over here if you need me. I think you’ve got it from here, but if you have any questions just shout,” She tells me.

“Thank you, Danica,” I smile at the pretty woman, and she goes to the other woman, Tamara, and both of them get set up.

Lawson is first in line now, and he smiles at me, his blonde hair flat on his head for once because it’s going to go under a helmet.

“Glad to see you here,” He sits himself down on the bench.

“I’m glad to be here,” My words are truthful.

I’m glad I’m not missing this opportunity. I’ll be more glad when my nerves subside.

“He didn’t know you were coming back,” He says and I know he’s talking about Bellamy.

“I didn’t tell him. I wasn’t sure if I should, especially before summer sessions,” I start wrapping his ankle, crouching down in front of him, doing what I know how to do best.

Lawson is good at reading people. I can tell by the way he’s reading me right now.

“You have nothing to worry about. Bellamy cares. I promise you he does. I’ve never seen him like he was this past week. He barely left his room.”

I instantly feel guilty. I know that wasn’t Lawson’s intention. He never has bad intentions especially when it comes to Bellamy. But I still feel bad. I hate knowing Bellamy was hurting.

“I’m sorry,” I don’t know why that’s my first response, but it is and Lawson is shaking his head.

“You don’t have to be. You came back. He was going to blame himself if you turned this opportunity down. We’re all just glad you’re here.”

I stretch his ankle, looking up at him.

“Does that feel fine?”

“Feels perfect,” He says and I stand fully. “Thanks, Hart,” He gives me another big smile, and I smile back, turning around toward the other players, and right away I’m faced with Bellamy who stands further back.

He’s wearing a SPU tank top, his arms beautifully displayed to me. I look at him as he walks toward me, the other players staying back, and waiting their turn. He approaches without a word, my stomach tight and warm, full of swarming butterflies. He passes me and brushes against me as he does, every nerve in my body shooting every way at the simple touch. Bell sits down, and I hold out my hands to him, knowing he’ll need his right wrist wrapped first, his throwing hand.

“Hi...” He calls and I feel my stomach sink at the sound of his voice.

“Hi,” I peer up at him, my eyes catching him.

He watches me intently as I touch his hands, my chest feeling so constricted I feel like my next breath might hurt. My heart is in my throat, and my hands are starting to sweat. I wrap his hand, my eyes focusing on it hard, not daring to look up at him. I think this is the only time since getting close to Bellamy I’ve chosen to stare at his hands over his face.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” He breaks the silence again and I shake my head.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world… I couldn't just leave,” I look at him, and I speak more about him than football, and I think he knows that.

He smiles slightly, my stomach dropping again at the sight of his dimple carving into his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re here,” He squeezes my hand tight.

I smile back at him, the tension in my body tighter than it’s ever been. He’s not giving me any insight into how he’s feeling or what he’s thinking. He wanted me back. I know that. But I don’t know what to expect off of the field.

I hesitate before crouching down to wrap his ankles. He watches me carefully as I do it, my fingers brushing his legs as I begin to do my job. I wrap each ankle of his, feeling more nervous than I ever have to wrap a player. I finish, and he flexes his muscles. He stands, stretching himself out.

I keep my spot in front of him, and I take his hand once more, wrapping each finger, protecting every single one from injury. I can feel his eyes burning into me as I touch him, and I feel myself burning up at the thought of him looking at me the way he does. I move to his other side and look at the intricate birds tattooed on his hand, my heart beating faster at the sight. It looks good. He looks so fucking good, and touching him, even if it’s small. It feels just as good.

“Thank you.”

Our chests touch, and my eyes swiftly look into his. He’s smiling, and incredibly confident as he takes my shoulders and moves around me. I feel relief, tension leaving my body the second he’s no longer in my bubble. The next player moves forward, and I get to work. I notice Tamara, and Danica, my mentors and teachers both getting to work on other players. I should be focusing, and I am. I notice their techniques as they work closely next to me, and I take them into my work. I do a good job, but my mind is on Bellamy Archer the entire time.

The boys start their warmups, and they’re all completely in it. I’m always excited to watch from the sidelines, but I’m practically giddy watching this team. I’m excited to finally be on the sidelines for football. I watch each player carefully as they run their drills.

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