Finally, they smiled. My mistake, then, was looking at Shea. He wasn’t moving. The rest of the team was rising, a little pep in their step and life injected back into their veins after my talk. Not Shea. He stared me down, fires burning in his eyes hot enough to fracture diamonds. I couldn’t fucking breathe. We were locked onto each other, separated by this dressing room and our team, and I was lost in the riptides of his ocean blues. All I wanted, that moment, was to go to him and pull him into my arms. Let our lips brush. But he’d ignite me if I tried. I knew he would.
Ahhh this tension, I can’t handle it 😩😩😠
