Stick Your Landing (All In #3)

22. Zach

22

Zach

When I was a kid, I didn’t understand how people who liked each other spent time together without constantly wanting to kiss. It baffled me how they could go about their day with this person, resisting the urge. I’d had crushes, put people I didn’t know on unrealistic pedestals, turned them into daydreams, and I knew nothing about relationships.

When I got older, I experienced that pull toward another person, pure lust based on physical attraction. The instinct, the need, to be around a person fades quickly when it's all it is. It’s all I’ve ever known.

Until Finley Harris.

I’m insanely attracted to her and I never stop wanting to be around her. I’m content forgoing morning naps to hang out at the gym while she practices, mesmerized by her every movement. None of what she does should be physically possible, and yet, she makes every amazing feat look easy.

“What’s the gymnastics equivalent of a goal?” I ask while she’s taking a break atop the beam.

Her coach, Veronica, left five minutes ago, otherwise I wouldn’t risk taking Finley’s attention away from the task at hand. Veronica likes it when I’m here, says Finley is more relaxed, but she never hesitates to tell me to shut it if I become a distraction.

Finley turns, arms resting on her hips as she catches her breath. She’s done this one pass of flips about fifty times—it’d be hard enough on the ground, and she’s doing it four feet in the air with only four inches of wood and leather to balance on.

“I don’t know. I guess a stick?”

“A what?”

“You know, this .” Finley takes off to the opposite end of the beam, doing a roundoff back handspring before launching herself into the air and flipping twice. Her feet hit the mat with a smack, then don’t move an inch. “When we land perfectly still, not taking any steps or shuffling our feet.”

She flops down on the chair beside me, the one Veronica used while she was coaching Finley earlier. Veronica peppered me with Wolves questions, wanting to know behind-the-scenes information about my teammates and our training schedule, in between directing Finley.

“How hard is it?” I ask. “To stick your landing?”

She kisses my cheek. “Probably as hard as scoring a goal or making a three-point shot or kicking a field goal. It’s why we practice as much as we do. We’re building muscle memory.”

“Scoring a goal is much harder than any of those things. You know, for the record.”

“Oh, of course it is, Calder.” Finley’s hand lands on my chin, angling it toward her. The breath is knocked out of me as I take in her beauty up close, admiring the light freckle on her face, the gleam in her gorgeous blue eyes, the slight divot in her cheek when she smiles. “Those other athletes ain’t got nothin' on you.”

“You’re such a brat,” I say.

Since we’re in the gym, I move to pull away, but Finley places her hands on each side of my head to keep me close to her. She kisses me, and I react instantly, my hands going to her hips. I groan when my tongue meets hers, my body demanding more contact. As if she can read my mind, Finley climbs over me, her legs pinning me to the chair, bracketing my hips.

Veronica claps her hands together once, loudly. “ Okay !”

Finley and I pull apart, lips smacking as loudly as Veronica’s clap.

“That’s enough of that,” Veronica says, “you can straddle the floor or the beam, but not boys or girls while in my gym.”

Finley launches to her feet, leaving me with an incredibly obvious tent in my basketball shorts.

“Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing her discarded sweatpants from the floor to cover my lap. Finley giggles at my predicament. I narrow my eyes at her. “Laugh all you want, but I doubt this is the only evidence of what happened, Finley.”

Her mouth clamps shut.

Veronica heaves a sigh. “You two should go.”

“What?” There’s no trace of Finley’s teasing tone in the word. “I’m not done practicing.”

“I can’t have you getting hurt because your head isn’t in it, and based on what I saw, you’re focused on something else. So go deal with… it.”

Finley barks out a laugh. “No coach has ever ordered me to hook up instead of practice.”

“Just being practical,” Veronica says, her back to us as she retreats toward the gym entrance. She has some elite gymnasts showing up to train soon. Usually, there’s an overlap between Finley’s practice time and the other girls, high school age or younger. “The last thing I need for you to do is injure yourself after I scored you an audience with the UPC coach.”

Finley’s steps halt. “Wait—what?”

Veronica still doesn’t turn around, as if she hasn’t dropped news Finley’s spent months clamoring for. “Yep. He’ll stop by sometime in late January.”

“Oh my God. Wait—are you serious? He agreed? To come here ?”

Veronica hums. “Mm-hmm.”

Finley leaps into the air, her hands on her cheeks as she says Oh my God over and over again. It’s contagious, this joy of hers. My heart is on the verge of bursting on her behalf. She eventually stops hopping around the floor and settles back on solid ground.

“Zach.” Tears well in her eyes. “I never…” Emotion clogs her throat, cutting off her words. “I never thought…” She tries again but fails to vocalize the rest of the sentence.

I scoop her into my arms, lifting her off the ground. Her arms wrap around my neck, her mouth pressing against my ear. I breathe her in; she still smells faintly of fruity coconut despite her workout. “I’m so happy for you, High-flyer. You deserve this. You deserve every good thing.”

“Thank you,” she breathes, her voice still flooded with emotion. I assume she’s thanking me for my words until she adds, “Thank you for being here. For supporting me. You have no idea how much it matters to me.”

You have no idea how much you matter to me .

“I feel so lucky, so grateful,” Finley goes on. “This news means so much more, sharing it with you.”

And there goes my heart, pressing into the confines of my chest, damn near bursting with love for her.