Page 67 of The Kid Sister

The championship title had meant nothing without her.

So, okay, usually I held onto those high standards that Covington Prep expected from us, and I cannot support my behavior at that particular point in time...but hey, I’d just led my team to a historic state championship title and I was celebrating with the most beautiful, vivacious, caring girl in the world...and I went against every rule in the playbook.

I turned Sierra’s face toward me, my fingers trailing along her soft skin, tracing the curve of her cheekbone, landing at the side of her full, rosy lips. There was a slight look of confusion—actually, more like horror—on her face as she grasped what was happening, of what was about to happen as the distance between my mouth and hers shrunk away to nothing.

Yeah, I shouldn’t have kissed Sierra in the cafe, without warning, within full view of the team and its supporters, but hey, it’s not everyday that you win the state titleandget the girl, is it?

My lips joined Sierra’s with a spark that rivaled that of the fireworks earlier in the evening, a vibrant crash and boom that set the room alight. I was aware of cheers and whistles around me, but it was only background noise.

At that moment, Sierra Huntington was the center of my universe, and with her soft lips returning my kiss, I knew I was the center of hers, too.

––––––––

Every recovery strategyhad been forgotten after the final. No ice bath, no massage, no muscle rub, no heat packs. I expected to wake up the next morning and barely be able to walk or move, but the adrenaline rush must have negated all that.

I leapt out of bed and floated downstairs like I was superhuman.

“Someone’s buzzing with energy,” Mom said with a smirk. “Sit down and I’ll make you breakfast. What do you feel like?”

“Cinnamon donuts and ice cream,” I said.

Dad laughed, but Mom said in a serious voice, “Do you want me to order some?”

“I’m joking,” I said glancing over to Dad who was on the verge of frowning. His face relaxed when I said, “Oatmeal and blueberries is fine.”

“Surely you can have a treat,” Mom said.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I like my oatmeal.” It was kind of ironic, all those months of deprivation yet I craved my familiar routine. It had been strange not to get up and go to the gym this morning.

“Well, we’re having a special lunch for the team tomorrow, so I’ll order some donuts for that,” Mom said.

“We’ve got a media crew coming into school second period,” Dad said, “so be prepared for more interviews.”

“Uh huh.” It was all part of the territory of being state champions, and I knew that. But something else was on my mind. “Dad, can I talk to you about something?”

Mom hesitated before pouring me a glass of juice, sensing the tension in my voice. “Is everything all right, Cullen?”

“Football season is over now, right?”

“Well it’s over, but that doesn’t mean the training stops,” Dad was quick to point out. “You’ve gotta keep pushing, there’s more goals to set, there’s no rest—”

“I know that,” I cut in. Training was too ingrained in me to ever give it up. It was part of my life, the daily grind, and if anything, winning the championship meant the stakes got higher. There would be more pressure, college was another level. “I was meaning your other rule?”

“Other rule?” Dad arched an eyebrow.

“Diet restrictions,” Mom contributed with a sigh. “Yes of course you can ease off now, Cullen. You deserve a few treats, and you wait, I’m going to make your favorite pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving.”

“Within reason, of course,” Dad countered, not quite willing to allow all pleasures back into my life, “I’m assuming you had ice cream last night, but you don’t want to overdo it. You want to keep gaining weight, but it’s got to be muscle.”

I shook my head, my heart skipping a beat as the words slipped out, “I’m talking about yourotherrule. I’m taking Sierra to the Country Club dinner.”

Dad’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Mom, like he was unsure he’d heard me properly.

I panicked for a second—my big mouth—but didn’t want to hide it and clarified it for him. “As my date.”

Mom’s eyes popped. “A date?” A silly smile crept onto her face. “A date with Sierra?”

I nodded. “Yep.” I scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal, my focus on my the blueberries about to enter my mouth, knowing that Mom and Dad were conducting some kind of bizarre wordless conversation with their faces, probably Mom’s eyebrows raising and Dad’s jaw clenching.

---