I spin around as Alex glides towards me, grinning ear to ear. Unsure of his next move, my heartrate increases exponentially until the veins in my temples are about to explode.

He envelops me in a hug that momentarily washes away every doubt I have ever had about myself, every negative thought swept away like jagged grey pebbles in warm, translucent ocean waves.

"I lied to you," he says, breaking away but not stepping back from me; his voice is low, soft and laced with humor. "To get you here by yourself with me."

I mutter something tremendously sexy and articulate, such as "Huh?"

"Practice starts at 10:00. Come here."

Alex grabs my wrist with a touch all at once light and insistent, leading me over to the stage in the far corner of the gym. He leaps up, using his arms to propel himself; once settled, he grabs my hand to drag me onto the stage next to him. My ability to scale onto the high ledge is far less smooth than his.

When I find we are seated atop the stage leg to leg, I gulp in a sudden breath and blurt out: "Don't you have a girlfriend?"

Alex laughs low and mischievous for several seconds, and it's the most endearing sound in the history of all time.

"Nope. Didn't have one when I hugged you the last time either."

"At the basketball game?" My limbs are pulsing with torrent blood as his words begin to sink in.

"That's right."

"Or when you texted me over the holidays?"

"Yep. Singly-single." Alex turns his head, his kaleidoscope eyes morphing with various shapes and colors as he gazes intently into my face.

"Oh."

"Oh?" he chuckles. "That's all? You're single, right? I hunted your social media account for clues."

"Clues?" I snort. "Yeah, I'm single."

"Okay..." Alex grins at me, and he looks like an excited child as pronounced dimples materialize across his summer-tanned face. His hair appears a shade lighter than I remember; it's a touch longer, and the way it hangs tangled in all directions causes me to believe he put no extra effort into his physical appearance this morning to impress me. He just showed up as himself.

Alex makes a random movement over my hand, which I have tensely placed on my thigh; his fingers tickle mine for a moment, and he bounces his palm a few times as if playing chords on a piano. It's like he's dying to take my hand but is attempting to hold back.

"Okay?" I echo his word back at him. "So...?"

"So?" he repeats, eyebrows raised in expectance.

"Can you be direct with me here? I'm not good with decoding all the mixed messages. Why did you want to me to come here early?"

"Be direct?" he exclaims, and his cheeks shine pinkish with a mix of exasperation and amusement. He runs his eyes along our legs, now melded together, down to our tennis shoes, which are hanging in contact with each other's. Then he grasps my hand fully in his for the first time ever. "I like you, Natalia Stevens!"

"Oh." Unable to meet his eyes, I blush and crack a smile.

Alex places my hand back onto my thigh in a gentle gesture, extracting his own hand. "I'm sorry that I sent you mixed messages. I did have a girlfriend when you texted me the first time, in the fall, which is why I wasn't able to be more forthcoming in expressing my feelings for you."

I recall our conversation at that time. He may not have been overly expressive, but he was genuine and honest.

"I missed the emojis." I giggle, relaxing a slight bit and meeting his eyes.

"Emojis?"

"Yeah, you always use the best emojis. But you didn't send any during that particular exchange, when you told me you were in a relationship."

"Ah." He winks at me. "I did at Christmas though."

Inside closed lips, I suppress a gleeful laugh, recalling the Christmas tree and the blowing kiss on New Year's Eve.

"Why didn't you tell me you were single then, if you still liked me?" My heart thumps louder and louder until I think it will bust out of my chest. "And why don't you have anything on social media?"

"Oh, right." He drums his fingers over his thighs, readjusts himself and inhales a small, jerky puff of air. "I was about to, but I figured you were just home for a couple weeks, then heading back to college. After my trip to Costa Rica and everything with my brother, my life sort of turned upside down, financially and all that. At the time I saw you—at the basketball game—I was just getting back into a groove at school and work. I guess I was... hesitant to pursue something with you, knowing it would be long distance."

"Oh," I say for the thousandth time.

"Don't get me wrong—if you had asked, I'm sure I would have spilled and told you all about how I feel. But you didn't ask, so I didn't press it. I thought you probably had a boyfriend anyway."

"I thought I was about to have a boyfriend, at that time, but it didn't work out. I mean, it all worked out, but it didn't result in a relationship."

Alex tucks his lips in as he listens to me speak, amusement glimmering from his eyes.

"Cute. You're so cute." He takes my hand again, lacing his fingers into mine.

"Half of your messages always make me think you're flirting, but then you'll just stop messaging, so I was confused. And that's why I figured you were still in a relationship. I was actually quite disappointed in you for acting that way behind your non-existent girlfriend's back."

He laughs, then turns serious. "That's hilarious. No, I wouldn't do that to someone."

My stomach buzzes with the sensation of gulping down hot coffee.

"Yeah, I'm a little sporadic with the text messaging I guess. Not too into social media either. Especially now that I'm working and coaching and taking classes. I get distracted from online conversations, but it's not that I've stopped thinking about you."

"You think about me?" My tension is finally melting away, and I feel myself sinking into this conversation, soaking up each of Alex's words. This is the most we have ever spoken, and the first time our bodies have been in overt contact with each other for an extended period of time.

"All the frickin' time," he answers automatically, pulling off that serious yet lighthearted tone I have always loved from him.

"Hm," I sigh. "Me too, I think about you all the time."

There's a pause, charged with energy. Alex breaks it with a simple, quietly celebratory "Yay!" that is so precious I want to lean against him or jump into his arms.

"Wait," I interject, registering his earlier explanation. "You're in the middle of a text conversation and simply forget about it?" My obsessive-compulsive mind would never do such a thing.

"I don't forget about the conversation, but I don't always follow through on actually writing the next text." He shrugs. "There's not, like, an obsessive need to finish the conversation; I figure we'll just pick up the exchange again another time. Besides, until I could see you in person, there wasn't much that could progress between us anyway."

"That's... such an interesting outlook. So relaxed. I wish I could be more like that." My words drop out, soft and hesitant. All sense of time and location have evaporated from my consciousness, and the comfort I feel while chatting with Alex is taking me by surprise.

"No boyfriend, really?" Alex asks me out of context, raising incredulous eyebrows. "What's wrong with those college boys?"

"Aren't you a college boy, technically?" I tease him.

"Pff."

"There have been boys, but no boyfriend." I'm an idiot. My face blazes red hot. "I mean, I've had crushes, or whatever, or little interactions, but nothing that turned into a relationship." That sounds ever worse—interactions?!

I rip my hand away from Alex, as it's now pouring sweat, and cover my face with my hands in embarrassment, giggling and groaning at the same time.

"That's not what I mean!"

"What's not what you mean?" he asks, chuckling at me as I fall apart. "Interactions, eh?"

"No! Like, conversations, flirting, hand holding... kisses sometimes. That's it." I frantically wipe my drenched palms across my volleyball shorts. There is hardly enough fabric to soak up the amount of liquid spilling out.

"Kisses?" Alex is delighting in my awkward misery. "You had your first kiss? With whom?"

"No one!" I say. "Can we change the topic?"

He reaches to pick up my hand again, but I clamp my fist shut and turn my whole arm to steel so he cannot get to me.

"I can't hold your hand now," I admit, humorously making fun of myself. "It's too sweaty."

Alex cracks up. "My God, Natalia. I don't care about your sweaty hands."

"You don't understand!" I tell him, staring into his eyes and regaining confidence despite all the awkwardness. "I don't mean they are a touch damp, like a normal person. I mean, they are literally dripping sweat. And this is why I never had a boyfriend, because I'm too nervous over everything!" I'm laughing now, along with Alex.

Adopting a nonchalant posture, he acts as though he has dropped it; in the next moment, he swoops in without warning, eagle-like, to steal my hand, rubbing his whole palm against mine. "I. Don't. Care," he emphasizes, his voice low, eyes staring into my own. They are bright and intense, their colors pulsing.

My arms relax under his spell, and with his firm yet delicate fingers wrapped around my wrists, he wipes both my hands onto his own shorts, still staring into my face intently. His hands are also clammy. Then he again presses his palms to mine—one hand at a time—as if he wants to absorb my sweat into his own skin.

My breaths sputter into my lungs, shaky and uneven.

"Nati, I like you. I like you a lot, and I don't care if your hands are sweaty."

"Okay... Alex," I manage, a mischievous half-smile forming on my lips. Like a challenge. "I like you too. A lot."

Seconds pass, crackling with sweet tension.

"Okie dokie!" Alex chirps, hopping off the stage without prior warning and cutting through our moment of dreaminess. "Not getting caught like this with you by Steve." Grinning sheepishly, he swivels his neck around to glance at the giant clock on the wall. 9:30.

"Practice starts at ten, right?"

"Yeah, and Steve will be here any second. Just pretend I sent you the wrong time, or you wanted to be here early. Or say whatever you want."

He re-approaches me where I'm still perched on the edge of the stage. His torso makes contact with my shins, and he places his blazing hands atop my knees with barely perceptible pressure.

"You're not in high school anymore, Natalia Stevens. I plan to ask you out, yeah? But maybe after this training camp ends in three weeks."

I smile at Alex, attempting to keep my cool as the electricity from his palms spreads throughout my system. He clears his crackly throat.

"Or maybe I can't wait that long. Uh, we'll play it by ear."

"Okay. I'm guessing it'd still be frowned upon if we went out, seeing as you're technically my coach for the next three weeks."

"I'm guessing so." He lightly squeezes my knees, where his hands are still perched. "Hey, if I don't look at you or talk to you in practice, don't take it personally. Just trying to... prevent distractions." He slides his fingertips about a half-inch along my knees, then extracts himself again from me. "I'll be right back!"

He jogs off, out of the gym, and I joke to myself that he's rushing to the locker rooms for a cold shower. My stomach rushes with adrenaline, imagining that I could have such an effect over someone. Alex almost makes me believe it.

Steve appears in the gym doorway seconds after Alex has departed.