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It wasn't just awareness this time. It was want. Immediate, devastating, completely inappropriate want that shot through me like lightning and pooled white-hot, low in my stomach. Heat raced up my spine. My breath caught audibly.

This was bad. This was so bad.

Cam's hands tightened on my hips, adjusting my stance, and I felt that touch everywhere—my skin, my chest, places that had no business responding to a simple instructional touch.

"Feet shoulder-width apart," Cam said, her voice closer to my ear than it had any right to be.

I couldn't speak. Literally couldn't form words. My entire vocabulary had been replaced by oh no oh no oh no.

Cam used one foot to tap mine wider. Her chest pressed against my back. I could feel her warmth seeping through my tank top, could feel every breath she took.

"You need to bend your knees," she said.

"Can't," I managed. "Legs don't work anymore. Medical condition."

"What condition?"

"Sudden onset paralysis. Very tragic. I'll probably never walk again."

"Bend. Your. Knees."

I bent my knees. Cam's hands slid down slightly, adjusting, and a sound escaped my throat that I would deny under oath.

"You okay?" Cam asked, and was her voice rougher than before?

"Peachy. Living the dream. This is exactly where I want to be."

"You're the one who agreed to help."

"I was coerced. We've established this."

Cam's hands moved from my hips to my arms, adjusting my grip on the ball, and her fingers were warm and calloused, and I was going to spontaneously combust right here in front of twenty children.

"Elbow in," she said. "Ball at forehead level."

"This is a lot of micromanaging for throwing a ball."

"It's not throwing. It's shooting."

"What's the difference?"

"About twelve years of professional training."

"Okay, but functionally, I'm still throwing it."

"You're—" Cam stopped. Took a breath. "Fine. Throw it. See what happens."

"Is that permission or a challenge?"

"Both."

"I respect that. Honesty. Very refreshing."

I could feel Cam's exasperation against my back. I could also feel her breath on my neck, which was doing terrible things to my concentration.

One of the kids called out: "Coach Cam, are you gonna teach her or just stand there?"

Cam stepped back slightly, but her hands stayed on my arms. "I'm teaching. Harper's just... resistant to instruction."