Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (ebook and pdf reader .txt) 📕

Ellie challenged me to switch ‘should’ for ‘could’ in my inner dialogue. She claimed that patients often lure themselves into the false belief that they don’t have a say in their feelings, but they could avoid this detrimental thinking with a small semantic change.

She said there was a world of difference between “I should feel calm” and “I could feel calm,” because, in the first, there’s an external pressure to feel in a certain way, whereas, in the second, it’s an internal choice.

I never really tried this exercise.

How would my previous thought sound with this adjustment? Okay, here it goes. 

I could probably not stare at Ellie’s booty shimmying as she zig-zags her feet…but the truth is, I want to. Oh, jeez, she was right. This linguistic trick works. By switching this one little word, I realized what I want.

I want to continue to gape at Ellie, but not just at her hips.

At her.

Observing Ellie having fun is probably one of the most gratifying things I’ve ever done. Perhaps even more than that mythical rushing touchdown I did against the Patriots.

When Ellie enjoys herself, her eyes sparkle, and their glimmers light up the world around her. Even her curls radiate her joy and bounce with more grace than usual. I wish I could see her be this careless and happy every minute of the day.

Preferably in my arms…

A poke in my ribs tears me out of my fantasies.

“Fallen into a trance?” Ellie asks with a wink.

“No, tired,” I say to her, shaking my head to clear it. “Enough dancing?”

Ellie shrugs and tilts her head to the floor. “No, but they put on a Texas Two-Step.”

I look at the dance floor, which is filled with couples gliding in a large, counterclockwise circle. Mhm, this might just be the best excuse ever…

I stretch my hand to her.

She eyes it with furrowed brows. “What are you doing?”

“Asking you to dance?” I smile.

Ellie’s eyes widen, and she swallows. “Didn’t…didn’t you say you were tired?”

I shake my head. “Not anymore.”

I reach my hand even farther, so it almost touches her.

The surrounding air becomes heavier as I wait for her answer, almost as if it changed from gas to liquid. A throbbing starts in my fingertips as I yearn for her skin to melt with mine.

Her eyes bounce between the dance floor, my face, and my stretched hand. She sighs and puts her palm into mine. “Okay, but don’t crush my toe.”

Despite her mocking comment, her voice remains soft and serious, as if she also feels that the mood’s shifted between us.

“Will do my best,” I answer in the same tone then haul her closer to me, placing a hand below her shoulder blade.

She slides her fingers up on my arm, stopping just above my biceps. We begin to move with the others, following the quick-quick, slow-slow rhythm the other couples dictate.

“You lead well.” Ellie peers up at me, her eyes wide.

“You seem surprised.”

“I guess I am,” she says, keeping my gaze. “We never really danced together before. And knowing your preference for smashing the defense on the gridiron, I expected you to be slightly more…”

I bend my neck slightly to get closer to her face. “Pushy?”

“Perhaps, yes.”

“With you, I could never be that. Ever.”

Ellie stares at me then withdraws her gaze, directing it to just above my shoulder. “If old Harry doesn’t look like a rooster among a bunch of hens,” she says.

It’s clear she’s trying to dissolve the sizzles between us, but because I don’t want to belie what I just promised her, I turn my head to check what she’s looking at.

Harry is standing in the middle of his wife’s friends, telling a story with wide gesticulation.

“Yes, he’s in his element tonight. It’s nice to see everyone again,” I say.

I blink back at Ellie, and I catch her staring at me.

When our eyes meet, she blushes. “Yeah, it was a good idea to come to this dance.”

Something in her tone suggests that she didn’t say this because she’s glad to see Harry and Martha, but perhaps because she enjoys being in my arms.

Her phrase gives me permission to bring up the subject we started earlier today but didn’t finish. “I really think we should tell Devon about us,” I say.

Her eyes widen. “Didn’t we agree to shelve this topic for now?”

Wyatt shrugs. “You agreed that Devon is in a good place now. There’s nothing you need to defend him from.”

“I’m not sure…” Ellie mumbles. “What if your friendship suffers?”

“It won’t.” I raise my arm to initiate a spin for Ellie. When she graciously completes the turn, landing back in my arms, I continue, “But even if he’ll be upset with me for a while, I don’t mind. I’m fed up with pretending about you. Aren’t you?” Since she stays silent, I clear my throat. “Well, unless it isn’t pretending for you, and you’re still angry that I…”

Her eyes flick to mine, and she shakes her head. “No. I said I forgave you, and I meant it. I’m not angry with you anymore. Not one bit.”

“Then why do you still want to keep up this charade? Let’s just tell Dev and our friends the truth. My therapy, our past. Everything.”

“Cora, Hope, and—”

I interrupt her protest. “I could tell them. This way, you won’t breach your non-disclosure agreement.”

Ellie forces my arm to make her spin, and I wonder whether she’s buying time before answering.

Once we’re face to face again, she asks, “Why is it so important for you that they know?”

I stare into her eyes. “Because a future can’t be built on a lie. Because I want my best friend to know that I…that I like his sister.”

She tilts her head to the side, scrutinizing my gaze. “Like?”

I slowly nod. “Yes. For lack of a better word.”

Ellie lowers her head.

Our feet keep moving so we’re swaying around in the circle with the others, but it’s as if time stands still.

I wait for Ellie’s verdict, with my heart vibrating in my throat.

Despite my sober word choice to cover up my first phrase’s intensity, my tone remained