Page 68 of The Catch

"Fuck yeah!" she laughs.

I chuckle. I've dreamed of evenings like this. It's late in the night, I just played a brutally demanding sport for hours, and I'm sore and bruised, but nothing is further from my mind than rest. Not when Ames sits next to me at home, grinning every time she gazes at me.

"I loved recording the holiday special with you." She smiles beatifically at me. "If it's anything like that, I could share recipes and that togetherness I love so much about food."

"I can see it. A cozy show where you cook meals that bring people close."

"It's all about celebrating. Friendships and family and love… you know, all the important things. Love in all capitals! Maybe you and Pablo could be my guests one day, and I could have a special about those things. The two of you representing all of it. Can you imagine? Would you be my guest?"

A soft blush reddens her beautiful face. Her eyes shine with mirth, and the big waves of her hair look windblown and wild. The gestures she makes are bolder than usual, and her voice is a little raspy. She's uninhibited, still a little tipsy from the earlier festivities. I can only hope the sight will never leave my mind.

"I'll go every time you invite me." I smile. "What would you want to do with your catering business?"

"Those dimples." She sighs.

I smile harder, so my dimples pop more. Her eyes journey over my face, down my chest, before she covers her face with her hands.

"I'd keep my business," she finally replies. "Focus on private events. I'd let Jo run all of that. A TV show would be great publicity, right? And with that cash, I bet I could keep everyone employed until things pick up."

"I bet. I'm excited for you."

In a clumsy series of movements, she kneels on the sofa and leans closer. I raise my eyebrows. The change is the physical equivalent of a non sequitur.

"I'm excited for you, too!" she exclaims. "You keep winning. Theyhaveto keep you. You can't leave."

"I'm doing everything I can to stay."

"Evie said the fans adore you. What's not to love? Everyone's got to see it. You score in every game, you have the flirtiest smile always, even when there are no cameras around. Those social media posts? Hot. And you're so warm and friendly with people around you…"

Warmth and longing and this feeling I've always had in my chest— they pulse, taking turns in different colors, creating a kaleidoscopic effect all over my inner world.

She glances at me. Her eyes twinkle.

She laughs.

"What?" I ask.

Her arm is close to me, resting on the back of the sofa. I can't stop it. I run my fingers over her skin in long, gentle caresses of my fingertips.

Her mirth softens into a chuckle. "I thought I kept myself on the right side of tipsy all evening, but I just said you're hot and I don't mind a whole lot. I must be more intoxicated than I thought."

Her eyes follow the movement of my fingers on her.

I smile. "You don't have to be drunk to admit I'm hot."

She laughs again. "And soooo cocky. And always flirting. You're flirting, right? I think you're always flirting."

"I can't help myself."

My voice comes out rueful, confessing truths I'm not ready to share about my feelings for her. How even when I know I shouldn't flirt with her, all I want to do is flirt with her.

I don't think she notices it.

"How did I not realize it before? The cockiness. The flirting I would have noticed years ago. If you ever directed it at me, that is."

"You must not have been paying close attention."

"I have paid att— attention. Too much, at times."