Page 95 of Only in Your Dreams

I haven’t been single since the day I met her.

Mel shakes her head, though. Either she doesn’t get it—still doesn’t get it—or she refuses to accept it altogether. She heaves a sigh. “You’re a real catch, Zachary Porter.”

Her eyes shine as she looks up at me, and I sweep her cheek with my thumb.

“So, catch me.”

It comes out like a challenge. Daring her to take a chance on me.

Because if it’s not her catching me, it won’t ever be anyone.

Chapter 23

Zac

It’s the first Tuesday in October which, for me, normally means I get the night off at home to allow my coaches the utter indignity of pitting their partners against each other in a game of flag football.

I’ve never attended one of these, in all my years coaching the Huskies. Why would I? With Mel out there in the city with some dirtbag boyfriend who wasn’t me, I never had a wife or girlfriend to show for.

And then Mel admitted she was invited to play. She said it in that nonchalant, scowly way of hers, but I’ve had this woman memorized for fourteen years. The way her nose wrinkled told me exactly how much she was into the idea of running around the Huskies field. So here I am, sitting in the stands. Still with no wife or girlfriend to show for, considering Mel’s only here on Brooks’s behalf, the lucky son of a bitch. But you couldn’t have paid me to stay away.

The seats around me are buzzing with kids who’ve come to watch their parents amuse themselves for a night. Melody’s already out on the field with the rest of today’s players and their designated coaches, standing side-by-side with Brooks, her anointed fake boyfriend.

I’d be more annoyed about it if I wasn’t getting such a kick out of watching her chat with the other women. Tentative at first, unsure of whether to play the part of the beaming ball of sunshine or just let herself be, snarky quips and all. As the minutes pass, though, her body visibly relaxes. She says something to the group that has them laughing, and I might end up decreeing that this annual game goes weekly, just to see that sweetly satisfied look on her face again.

“How’d you manage to get up here without anyone wondering why you came?” Brooks sits next to me, hiking up his feet on a seat in the row in of us. I was too fixated on Melody to notice him break away from the crowd.

“I didn’t. Had to tell them I got my days mixed up and came out for practice,” I tell him. “Why aren’t you down there with the rest of them?”

Brooks gives me a look. “Because your girl noticed you sitting up here with sad puppy eyes, and she asked me to check on you.”

I find her on the field just as she turns a glance over her shoulder in our direction. That’s one way to get rid of the sad eyes. Melody, this attuned to me from yards and yards away? Instant mood-shift.

Down below, a whistle goes off. Melody says something to one of the girlfriends—Emily, the one newly dating my offensive coordinator—and with a laugh, they both head for the middle of the field as the coaches make their way to the sideline.

“She looks like she’s ready to crush skulls out there,” Brooks says.

She does. Mel’s got her hair gathered up on top of her head, the ends of her ponytail brushing her back as she tightens up her sneakers, adjusts the belt around her waist where the two flags are Velcro-ed to her.

She’s wearing a yellow t-shirt with the Huskies logo on the front, and tiny shorts that have me glaring at my staff every so often, just to make sure I don’t have to go down there and poke any of their eyes out.

“I haven’t seen her play since gym class,” I tell Brooks. “But if she’s anything like she was then, this is going to be a hell of a show.”

The Melody of back then was stubborn as anything. Never gave up on a play and refused to be told she couldn’t keep up. Despite her size, she spent enough time with me and Parker to know exactly how to hold her own on a football field. And given the stubborn thing still stands… I can’t fucking wait for this game to start.

Looks like they’ve tapped Mel as a wide receiver, a smart move considering all those times in her parents’ backyard, catching for me whenever I wanted to get in a few extra practice throws.

Another whistle and they all move into position. But not before Mel swoops down, picks up some mud off the field left over by yesterday’s rain, and smudges a dark line under both her eyes.

Brooks releases a shocked laugh. “Did she just…”

I rub my mouth, trying to keep the pride off my face. After all, she isn’t supposed to be here with me. But I’m gonna marry that girl one day. There’s no other way about it.

“Ten bucks says they make it fifteen yards on the first down,” one of my coaches calls on the sideline.

There’s another whistle, Gina Matthews snaps the ball, and then it’s spiraling through the air in a half-decent throw. Mel takes off, juking defenders pretty impressively for someone who probably hasn’t played in years. She actually makes the catch, too—

“Oh, fuck,” I mutter. “Look to your right, look to your right—”

---