Page 68 of I Wish He Would

“Thank goodness.” He pushes up from his mat, leaving a sweat stain behind, and grabs his own coffee and towel with one hand and mine with the other, and we make a run for it.

My smile is wide and my hair whips behind me as we jog toward the beach. I glance over at Austin. He looks as happy as I feel, despite the morning-movement class. This right here is what I want. Austin making a fool out of himself at a workout class that he only went to because he knew it would make me happy. Getting kicked out of said workout class because we can’t stop laughing and talking. I want this. Us forever making memories together.

We reach the beach, and Austin sets his coffee cup and towel on the sand. “I don’t know how you do that multiple times a week.”

I shrug. “You get more flexible over time.”

“Please tell me that wasn’t a beginner’s class.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh.

“No.” I shake my head. “That was more intermediate or advanced.”

“Good, I feel slightly better about myself. I was worried for a moment that I had pretty boy muscles.”

“What the heck are pretty boy muscles?”

“They don’t serve any purpose other than looking good. Like guys who lift all the time but die when they do any cardio.”

I take another few sips of my drink before all the ice melts and makes it too watered down. “You use your muscles all the time in baseball”—he yanks off his damp sweatshirt and drops it beside his other stuff, and I can’t help but stare at the muscles in question—“so they do serve at least two purposes.”

He grins at me. “So they look good, too?”

“I thought we already discussed your handsomeness earlier.” I place my hands on my hips and look up at him, feeling bold. “You know, you’re getting really needy, wanting all this reassurance.”

Austin’s eyes twinkle with mirth as his lips tilt into a devilish smirk, making his dimple pop. Suddenly his hands are around my thighs, lifting me up. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist and hold onto his neck.

“Slugger, what are you doing?” I squeal. When I glance behind me and see he’s running toward the ocean, I squirm and try to climb down, but his hands hold tight to my legs. We fall into the ocean together, and a wave crashes over us, soaking our clothes. I wipe my hair back from my face and giggle, feeling alive. Austin treads water for us as I tilt my head back toward the sun.

Yeah, I could get used to this.

I’m here to confirm that there is no better feeling in the world than holding Alyssa in the ocean. My hands clutch her thighs. Her arms are slung casually over my shoulders as she tilts her head back, the sun casting a honey glow on her face and hair. I’ve never been more attracted to her. I mean, she’s always stunning, but right now she looks joyful and carefree, like nothing in the world can bring her down. And I love seeing this unfiltered side of her, wet-haired and fresh-faced. It’s simply Alyssa.

Beautiful.

When she looks at me, her smile is like Cupid’s arrow shot straight into my heart. Just call me whipped. On a leash for her. She can take me wherever, ask me to do whatever she wants. I’ll crawl. Bark. Beg. Anything to show her that my feelings have changed.

It’s like we’re down by a run and the bases are loaded, plus there are two outs, and I’m up to bat with a 3–2 count. It’s my make-or-break moment. And I’m determined to hit a grand slam. Because that’s what my feelings for Alyssa are. They’re like that moment when I realize I hit one out of the park. The feeling of the first game of a new season.

I know it’s taken me a long time to realize it—to notice her in this way—but now I can’t unnotice it.

Her eyes move to my lips, and suddenly the air is different between us. Charged. This feels like the moment I’ve been waiting for. In their game plan, my teammates told me to kiss her again if things felt right. I’m pretty sure Hayden’s exact words were “kiss ze girl” in the voice of Sebastian from The Little Mermaid. And I’m not sure we’ll get another moment like this. It’s my time to go big and take a shot on what could be.

I want to kiss her. To see if the spark from the night we met is still there. But if I’m misreading her signals, I’ll walk away like this never happened. Even though I’m sure I’ll have the feeling of her body pressed to mine branded on my skin for the rest of time.

“Tell me what you want, Lyssa.”

Her lips part, her pupils dilating before she slowly drags her gaze up to mine. There are a thousand questions in her eyes. The same ones I feel deep in my soul. If we cross this line, where do we go from here? Will this be the start of our life together? Can we go back to being friends if there’s no spark, or will a kiss ruin the friendship we’ve been building for three years?

But she’s the risk I’d willingly take over and over again.

“Austin.” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. But the two syllables of my name hold desire and vulnerability.

“What do you want?” I repeat, unwilling to take this leap if she’s not right there with me.

She holds my gaze, looking both terrified and determined. “This.”

I move a hand up and gently trail my thumb along her jawline, stopping when I reach the soft spot beneath her ear. My fingers tangle into her wet hair as I move my mouth down to hover above hers.

Our breaths intermingle as I whisper, “You know what I want?”