“I’m Cannon. I’m new here,” I say, holding out my hand.
She blinks at it, her lips parted for a few seconds before speaking. She finally takes my palm in hers, her grip impressive.
“I’m Hollis, and I’m new here too.”
Definitely from New York.
“Long Island?” I question.
She quirks a brow and blows out from her lips.
“Heck no. Staten Island, baby.” She’s teasing me, and it’s cute as hell. I should have known; Long Islanders are Mets fans.
“Ah, right. Well, nice to meet you, Hollis. I’m from New Mexico. Not nearly as exciting as your big city,” I say with a shrug.
“I don’t know,” she says, leaning her head back and looking up at the sky. I follow her gaze to the stars and the embers popping in the air above us. “You probably have some pretty epic views where you’re from.”
She’s right. We do. Or, at least, we did. I guess these are my views now. Lots of . . . trees.
“We’re both from Allensville now, don’t you think?” I put that idea out there while we stare up at the black sky, speckled with salt diamonds and masked by smoke.
She sighs.
“Yeah, I guess we are.” She drops her chin to her chest and I do the same. “We came from both ends and met in the middle.”
She has a way of letting this faint smile linger on her lips after she finishes talking, and I’m having a hard time looking away. Normally, I’d be embarrassed by my overt infatuation with a girl. I’m shitty at flirting. But Hollis, she makes this pretty easy.
“So, what brought you here? To the middle?” I ask.
Her brow pulls in with thought, but that faint smile is still there. She’s calculating something. Maybe it’s how much to tell a guy she just met.
“Family . . . er, work. My dad moved here for work.” I sense that she’s conflicted by something, so I don’t pry. She probably misses a lot of things from home. I get that. I miss my parents, but at least they’ll be here eventually. Can’t really move New York to the middle of Indiana.
“We moved here for family too, sorta. I came to play ball with my cousin. He’s here, somewhere.” I glance over my shoulder, only to find that everyone in the back yard has disappeared. We’re completely alone out here.
“I’d introduce you, but . . .” I hold out open palms when I look back to her, and she giggles. The sound she makes pushes my half smile up high into my cheeks, and I quickly realize I’m grinning like a fool. I don’t stop, though. I let the ache remain on my foolish face because maybe I’ve just met my soulmate in pinstripes.
“We must have missed the memo,” she says, looking beyond me and into the house.
It was after eleven when Zack and I left the house, so the countdown is probably on for the new year.
“You wanna go in?” I ask her, moving my gaze back to her eyes. This time, she dares me, studying my face intently as if waiting to call my bluff. I don’t have one. I’ll literally go wherever she tells me to. I’m hoping—
“I don’t like crowds. You cool ringing in the new year out here with some girl from Staten Island?”
Foolish grin makes its second appearance on my face, so I lick my lips to tame it just a little.
“For sure,” I say, leaning forward with my feet on the ground and elbows on my knees. “Though, you’re an Allensville girl now, aren’t you?”
She breathes out a laugh and stands, stretching her arms to the sky. It lifts her jersey and sweatshirt just enough that I get a glimpse of her cream-colored skin and the silver stud in her belly button. I never thought that would be my thing, but it’s totally my thing. Maybe it’s only my thing on beautiful blondes from Staten Island.
“Let me get used to being an Indiana girl for a while, then we can move on to the local titles, yeah?” She sounds so tough when she talks, and the contrast with her angelic face would be almost comical if it weren’t so goddamn mesmerizing.
I stand so I can match her height, and maybe get a better read on whether it’s okay to kiss a girl I just met at a party I didn’t want to go to. I kinda think maybe it is, but only because she didn’t want to be here either. And because she’s wearing a Jeter jersey. And because I’m pretty sure her eyes have put a spell on me.
With a foot of space between us, I measure how close we come in height while she glances around me to the house filled with people who have started counting down from ten. I was right to guess we’re only two or three inches apart. She licks the corner of her lips and smiles, her cheeks suddenly red, and not from the heat of the fire.
“Happy New Year, Hollis from Indiana,” I say, my lips in a closed-lip smile to stem off the hungry vibrations urging my body to lunge at her and taste her tongue.
“Happy New Year, Cannon from Indiana,” she returns, biting her lower lip but only briefly. She’s trying to keep up the act that she’s tougher than I am. Maybe she is.
I step toward her, my movement slow and cautious while I read her body language. She doesn’t move away, and her hands don’t nervously fidget at her sides. They’re tucked in the pocket of her hoodie, the front of the jersey lifted so she can slip them inside the warmth underneath. She’s so calm I’d almost think she’s sleeping with her eyes open, but I know she’s not. She’s staring at me with a dare—a welcoming dare.
I take another small step, lifting my hand to her chin and touching the pad of my thumb to the soft skin just below her pouting lip. I brush away her hair and bring my other hand up to cup her face.
“Happy New Year,” I whisper one last time, mostly to test the waters and see if she flinches. She merely breathes the words back and closes the remaining inches between our mouths until we’re locked in an electrifying kiss that feels like fucking home. I lift her chin, coaxing her mouth open just enough for me to slip my tongue inside to taste her sweet mouth. Her lips move with me, and her hands come up to grab at the front of my own hoodie, tugging on the strings as she slips away slowly with a giggle.
My face is numb in the wake of our kiss. It was ten seconds of my life, but quickly rockets up on my top-five moments list.
“Thanks for the New Year’s kiss, Cannon. I have to get home, but . . . maybe we can hang out sometime?” She lets go of the strings, her finger drawing a line down the center of my chest as she backs away.
“Most definitely,” I say, a bit stupefied that I’ve been so quickly whipped by a girl I barely know. Maybe it’s the haze of New Year’s Eve, or maybe I really have been overworking myself and I’m exhausted. Whatever it is, I’m grinning like an idiot again and it doesn’t go away for the rest of the night.
I’ve never had a coach want to hold a meeting with his potential players on January second, but that’s what makes coming here an even better decision. Coach Taylor has a reputation for being stern. His last job was at some private school in New York, and they took state twice, back-to-back. He sent us all texts on New Year’s Day telling us he wanted to get started with workouts before tryouts come up. There was a subtle overtone that the serious players would be here, so Zack and I arrived before anyone else just to prove we’re a cut above dedicated.