Cuts and Bruises

Chapter Twenty Two

On Tuesday morning, I walked to the stadium with a smile on my face. I shouldn't be smiling, really, because Coach Baxter called for an early morning practice, leaving us all trudging to the field by 6 AM.

And yet, I didn't mind. In all honesty, I was excited to see Vincent again. Despite spending a long weekend at home with him, I somehow hadn't reached my limit of how much of him I can handle.

"Lily," Rory moans from the bench as I approach. "I'm so hungover."

I give him a blank stare and ask, "Why were you drinking on a Monday night?"

He glances up at me with squinted eyes and mumbles, "I was celebrating getting a C on my paper."

I roll my eyes at him. "You knew that we had early practice today."

"I didn't think I was going to get so hammered," Rory tries to excuse lamely, but ends up groaning. "I'm an idiot, I know. But can you please help?"

"Obviously," I tell him with a small smile. "Go sit in the shade. I'll be right back."

I drop my backpack on the ground beside the bleachers and continue walking into the tunnel of the stadium. I pass the locker room and hear the boys hooting and hollering inside, and wonder how the hell they're all so riled up this early.

As I pass the door, it swings open, and I catch what the guys were chanting: "Bradshaw's whipped!"

Vincent himself is the one who stumbles out of the locker room with a small smile on his lips. His gaze lifts to meet my amused one as I wonder if they were all giving him shit about coming home with me for the weekend.

"Hey," I greet and watch his small smile widen. "What's that about?"

He rubs the back of his neck and says, "Uh, getting whipped into shape. You know, so I can finally practice with everyone again." I nod slowly, not fully convinced, but he just grins and changes the course of the conversation. "Where are you headed?"

"The fridge," I tell him, and push away all the butterflies entering my stomach. "I have to break into my stash of Pedialyte for Rory."

Vincent falls into step with me and we start walking toward the ice baths, where the fridge was located. He seemed equally as chipper as I this morning, and it threw me off. He usually hated mornings, but I guess he was wired with excitement at the prospect of finally practicing with the team again.

"They don't deserve you," Vincent swears with a shake of his head. "You're too good for those boys."

I raise my eyebrow and give him a pointed look. "You're one of 'those boys'."

I turn into the room with the fridge and open the handle while Vincent leans against the doorframe and watches me grab two bottles.

"The difference is, I know your worth," He tells me confidently.

I tuck a bottle of water and another bottle of Pedialyte under my arm and pretend as if his words didn't surprise me. "Do you?"

As I approach the doorway, Vincent slides in the middle so he's blocking my exit, with either hands gripping the edge of the doorframe. He leans down a little to get closer to me as I stand there, my heart thumping a mile a minute for no good reason in my chest.

There's too little distance between us. When he  breathes, I can practically feel it on my cheeks. He grins at me. "I do."

And then he swiftly takes the bottles from underneath my arm and turns back into the tunnel. "Hey!"

"Relax Lil," Vincent says calmly, looking back at me. "I'm just carrying them for you."

His chivalry wasn't necessarily new, but the frequency of it was increasing by the day. It was like Vincent was trying to make me fall for his charm.