Page 47 of It’s All in How You Fall
“Ten swings and then we alternate.”
“Fine.” I settle into my stance, soften my knees, square my hips. His eyes sit on my body, checking the angles, the technique. Consciously, I know he’s trying to spot problems before they begin in exactly the same way Olga has for more than half my life. Perfecting, perfecting, perfecting. But his eyes sit differently on me. Or maybe, just like when he was close—that’s my own visceral reaction.
With the setup of each drive, my mind chants yet another reminder to the blood in my veins rushing around, turning my cheeks pink, my neck flush, my hands and arms and drop of my stomach hot.
This is Alex. It’s his job to look at you. To help you. He’s just doing what he said he would do.
I’m calming down. My nerve endings will stop overreacting. My mind will stop hurtling down the dark tunnel toward what… my visceral reaction could mean.
On the seventh drive, Alex takes a step forward. “Wait—please.”
Blessedly, he’s toe to toe with me, not stepping behind.
“Look up.”
I move my eyes but keep my face down, head and neck sort of afraid to move fromthe stancethat I’ve learned.
Alex laughs so softly I think I imagine it. A hooked forefinger touches my chin. He tips my face up. “You’re tilting your head slightly toward the target. It’s inhibiting your swing—you want your spine neutral.” His hands sweep to either side of my face and he gently straightens it. The difference is so minuscule, but the way he’s concentrating it must mean nearly everything. “I did this too when I started. You need to feel a little stretch here,” he says, running two fingertips down the side of my neck, “until you get used to it.”
Alex’s eyes meet mine and for a moment, time is frozen as I stare into them. I’ve known these eyes all my life. Hell, I very recently sold these eyes to Sunny.
And yet, somehow they’re different now. Or maybe it’s my perspective. Good God, I hope the heat in my skin hasn’t translated to me full-on blushing, because the way he’s watching me he would most definitely notice.
I shake myself into answering him with a little nod of understanding, careful not to ruin his adjustment. My swing chambers and then unloads.
When I look up, I somehow made it nearly to the 150-yard sign. My longest drive yet.
“Damn, Caro.”
I lower my club, and now I’m really blushing. “Thanks.”
Alex nods at the bucket of balls, but his attention never leaves my face. “Let’s finish ’em.”
20
Our tee time goes so fast I don’t even realize it’s over until acouple of bro-dudes with cocktails start hovering near the tree dividing our tee box from the course proper. My cheeks hurt from laughing and my back is a tad stiff from all the rotation, but it’s not late yet and maybe it’s the charge of the sun, or the fact that I realize I’d been looking forward to this moment since his fireworks text, but I… don’t want it to end.
Not yet. Not at all, really.
So as we’re walking up the concrete path to the club rental, I flip around and walk backward facing Alex, who holds our clubs in one big hand. “You know, how about some tennis? Do you think we can do that?”
“Tennis?”
Yep. Something with distance. Where my heart doesn’t do that thing it did when we worked on my stance. I might combust if it happens again. No, Iwillcombust. And then the rich people will be pissed and Alex will likely have to clean it up because he brought the exploding riffraff onto the grounds of Northfield.
“Sure.”
He says it like it’s no big deal, but there’s a hint of something else in his voice. Exhaustion? Doubt?
“Or we could just go home?” I give him an out. He spends so much time practicing when he’s not working or with Nat. “You know, if you’re sick of the courts.”
“Never sick of it. Just not sure about availability.”
This place with its timing and rules. You’d think there’d be a bell clang at the top of the hour just to keep everyone moving.
I turn back around so we’re walking the same direction. My hand accidentally brushes his on the whirl, and I go back to clutching the empty ball bucket in a double grip like it’s full of gold bars or something.
Court two is available, because a lesson ended early and nothing else is scheduled.
