It was an effort to peel my gaze from hers, and I schooled a breath, checking my watch.

Right on time, Giana walked in.

Her hair was completely dry now, those curls full of life and bouncing as she blew in through the door. She smoothed her hands over her skirt, righting her glasses as she scanned the room. When her eyes found mine, I saw the worry there, saw how her little hands curled into fists where she held her skirt, bunching the plaid fabric in their grips.

She was such a fascinating enigma to me, somehow shy and brave all at once. One moment she’d be having an anxious meltdown, and the next, she was all chin up, chest puffed, brow bent in determination like nothing could sway her.

I watched as it happened, as she sucked in a long breath, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw. I wondered if she was giving herself a mental pep talk, but didn’t have time to debate it.

She tilted her head, just a bit, asking without words if this was it, if this was the time.

I nodded.

And then she took off in a sprint.

It was quite possibly the cutest thing I’d ever seen in my life, how her hair and skirt bounced along in sync with every step on her way to me. I watched as heads popped up table after table, my teammates and the cheerleaders and training staff alike watching as she barreled toward me.

Leo turned when he heard the slapping of her flats against the tile. “What the—”

But before he could finish that question, Giana launched herself into my arms.

I caught her in a whoosh of air and hair and a sweet scent that washed over me like a baptism, ocean breeze and sunflowers. Her arms wrapped around my neck, mine wound around her hips, and I felt the lace of her stockings as she crossed her ankles where they hooked behind me, the smooth skin of her inner thigh brushing against my waist.

She’d run at me with pure excitement and confidence, but the moment she was in my arms, her smile faded, breaths quick and shallow.

Her wide eyes locked on mine, fell to my lips, and then slowly crawled their way back up.

I squeezed where I held her hips, focusing on everything we’d rehearsed and not on the fact that she had her legs wrapped around me in a skirt — which meant other than a scrap of panties, there was nothing between us.

“You made it,” she breathed, her lips staying parted once the words left them.