Page 41 of Buckle Up, Buttercup

I flare my wings wide, loving how her eyes follow the movement, admiration obvious in the way her gaze softens.

She turns from me and grabs another shirt. “Here, try this one on next.”

For half an hour, I slip in and out of clothing. She nitpicks the fit on several of the pieces, but most of them are perfect. We agree to send a few pieces back. I should be able to get them in a few days. When it’s time to leave for the game, I can barely drag myself out of the store. Thank fuck it’s a home game, and she’ll be there. When I linger too long, she shoves me toward the front door.

“Don’t be late! I don’t need to end up in the Gulch Gossip as the reason you can’t ever be on time to a game! I’ll hold everything here and you can pick it up after, or whenever.”

Trailing my fingers along her jawline, I brush my thumb over her lower lip. “I’m not gonna kiss you right now because I don’t want to rush when we have our first kiss, Bluebell. But after the game tonight? We’re stealing away. and I’m taking that kiss.”

She lifts her chin and nuzzles into my touch. “Alright, Hadrian.”

“Not only that,” I watch her snuggle against me, “but I want to remind you that your friendship is one of the most important things to me in the whole world. I’ll always protect that, Bluebell, alright?”

“Deal,” she whispers. “Whatever we do, we’ve always got that first, right?”

“Always,” I whisper as I stare into those beautiful blue eyes. “And that’s never changing.”

* * *

Hours later, Coach Shorthorn screams out a warning as a big minotaur player from the other team barrels into me, one of my wing bones crunching under the female’s enormous weight. I’m distracted, and I can’t let that happen. But the only thing on my mind is Bluebell Tucker and the fact I decided teasing was the thing to do. Except I’m edging myself into oblivion as much as I’m edging her, and I don’t think I can take much more.

The Punishers barely eke out a win, but when I head to the Tucker bench, Bluebell’s not there. Mr. and Mrs. Tucker embrace me, and I get high-fives from all the Jays.

“Where’s Bluebell?” I look around, still surprised she’s not in her usual seat.

Jasper shrugs. “It ain’t like her to miss a game. I tried calling her but didn’t get an answer. She’s probably just up to her eyeballs in boxes at the Bodice. She’s been over there most of today, far as I know.” His focus drops once more to the level-three mastery textbook propped on his thighs.

I nod, knowing I can’t ask much more about it right now, but I’m worried. I don’t think she’s ever missed a home game the entire time I’ve known her. She doesn’t answer when I put my comm watch on and call her.

After the game, the team wants to hit up Lizard Lick Saloon for post-game brews. I agree to go because Jasper and Jack want to, but it’s my intention to slip out the moment they get drunk enough not to notice. It doesn’t take long, and it’s good for me to get in a little bit of time with the team.

Half an hour into it, I slip out the side door and jog across Main Street to the Bodice. The front door’s locked, but I stroke my fingers down the glass pane.

“Sweet girl. Is she in there? I need to get in and make sure she’s okay.”

The building creaks, but the lock unclicks. Clicking the handle, I push my way inside, shut the door, and lock it behind me. A faint heartbeat is my indication that Bluebell’s still here.

Then I hear the sniffling.

Sprinting to the back of the building, I run into the storeroom and slide to a halt when I find her in the middle of the floor surrounded by mountains of shoe boxes. Most of them are open, shoes spilled out all over the floor. Some of the other stored items that looked to be in order earlier are now askew and in random piles.

And in the middle of it all, Bluebell’s on the floor sobbing. Her eyes are red-rimmed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Dropping to my knees, I slide boxes out of the way until I can pull her between my thighs. I tuck soaked hair behind her ears as I scan her for any injuries.

“Baby, what happened? Talk to me.”

She waves around at the building, brows furrowed. “I thought we were making so much progress, but then I tried reorganizing something, and she threw the hissy fit of the century and tossed this shit everywhere. I have had it up to here with this godsdamn building!” Grabbing a box, she tosses it at the wall and screams, “Screw you!”

Looking back at me, Bluebell yanks a soggy piece of paper out of her pocket and hands it to me. “And look at this damn to-do list, Alk. I had so much to get done before the game, and I didn’t manage any of it. The Mead Cute Festival is coming up, and I was supposed to finalize a couple things because I’m on the fucking organizing committee, and oh my fricking gods, I didn’t even make it to the game!”

Lurching forward, she throws her arms around my neck and buries her face just beneath my ear, sobs racking her frame. Her body’s tense and tight in my arms as I slip them around her, holding her close with my nose against her neck.

“I’m here,” I whisper, placing a tender kiss just beneath her ear.

She shudders, squeezing me tighter. Her sobs don’t slow when I hold her close, dragging my mouth down her neck to her shoulder. I place tender, soft kisses on her exposed skin.

“Let it out, Blue, then we’ll tackle this together if you want. I’m here,” I whisper against her soft, warm skin. “I’m here…”