The shift in position is accompanied by a change in expression. Beck looks serious now. Earnest. Maybe even a little uncertain. Almost vulnerable. Or, as vulnerable as someone who radiates confidence simply by breathing can look.

“I came because I feel this way around you even when we’re just staring at the sky,” Beck continues. The words are a leisurely confession. Languid and slow. But there’s also an honesty that resonates in every syllable.

“Feel what way?” I ask, because this doesn’t seem like the right moment to rely on body language and subjective meanings. You only need to watch one romantic comedy to know that’s usually the catalyst for some amusing misunderstanding. Except I’m not laughing. Beck isn’t either.

“Like we could be doing anything in the world and it would still be as thrilling as skydiving.”

I snort. “I will never go skydiving. Do you know how many people break their legs? I wouldn’t be able to play for months!”

“I don’t want to go skydiving with you, Saylor. I want to be the person you rely on when you’re acting like you can do everything on your own.” His words remind me of my dad’s, and I push back the same way I did at the wedding.

“I can do everything on my own,” I insist.

“There’s a difference between wanting to and having to,” Beck replies sagely.

“Jesus. Did you read a self-help book on the flight here or something?” Beck doesn’t respond to that quip, and that’s how I know he means the words. Means them now, at least. “Relationships hardly ever last.”

“Which you know from the many you’ve been in?”

“I didn’t need to get nailed in the face with a soccer ball to know it was going to hurt,” I retort.

That earns me a wry smile. “You’re equating me swallowing my pride and flying almost four thousand miles to being on the receiving end of a wayward kick?”

“You’re Adler Beck.” My words are matter of fact.

“I know.” He looks bemused by my statement.

“Practically every woman in the world is in love with you. That’s what? Over a billion people? Probably some men, too? My teammates, my sister—who very recently thought soccer was measured by touchdowns, by the way. Any relationship is tough. Us? It would be a mess, a disaster everyone would know about and feel entitled to talk about. I’m not interested in being known for nothing but my involvement with you.”

“We don’t get to pick and choose how others see us, Saylor,” Beck snaps. “You’re judging me for shit I have no control over.”

“Well, you certainly haven’t spent the last few years avoiding the spotlight.”

“I’m not going to apologize for my past.”