Anastasia can't count how long they have stayed like this, lost in a euphoric infinite of each other. Their breathings are still erratic, as much as their hearts – she can hear his beating above hers – and their bodies are spent, warm, and damp. Yet time feels like a foreign notion.

It is like she has blanked out, overwhelmed with too much pleasure, and her mind is just a blur of sensations, raw and intense, along with the sight of Nathaniel's face contorted in pleasure that even his mask couldn't cover. The way he has been biting his lower lip will probably haunt her forever. She wonders if he has been holding words on his lips, although he has already repeated her name as many times as she has moaned his. 

Sometimes she wishes she could know what he is thinking. When he has groaned her name, has it been just like her moans: a cry from deep inside?

If the thought of asking him has even crossed her dazed mind, it vanishes as soon as he pulls out of her, and with the emptiness of a missing piece, she finds back her clear head. She is even more lost though because all the memories that have led to this wild euphoria rush back to her: his harsh greeting and possessive behavior, the bitterness and loneliness of the masquerade...

She doesn't regret what has just happened; she just wishes it could have occurred in another context.

But before any sourness can come back in the confusion, Nathaniel interrupts her thoughts.

"Thank you for coming," he rasps on her bare shoulder, tickling her skin and much more with a surreal lightness.

He really has a way with words – and with her, as all her questions disappear into a laugh.

For Nate, the crystalline sound echoing around the room is as precious as when she's cried his name, and it's a gift to hear both just for him. 

After everything that has happened, he's expected a lot of reactions, but not this one. There is no hint of awkwardness, and everything floats naturally like the daze they've been wrapped in through their orgasms. Their harsh tones, the attacks they've thrown at each other, and all the bitter and ardent emotions they've felt tonight have been annihilated by their intense and meaningful actions. Has it even been at each other that they've been mad?

He peppers more kisses along her collar bone to make sure there aren't any bad feelings remaining, while her fingers are twirling around the black ribbon and the short curls at the back of his head, and she lets out two sighs, from which, being so close, he can hear all the nuances between the two. The first one is out of delight as he tastes the salty-sweet skin at the hollow of her collar bone, and the second is heavier and resigned, making him guesses easily her next words.

"We have to go back..." She is almost pouting, and he knows there is a frown behind her shiny mask.

So he presses his lips to hers to erase both in a soft yet intent kiss. He's conscious he's behaving like an addict, chasing a little bit more of the intoxicating high, and even inviting her to the masquerade tonight has been as desperate and selfish. Yet little moments together like this one are the sweetest and most addicting drug, and it's reluctantly that he softly puts her feet back down on the floor.

Though he still keeps his arms around her, taking advantage of her wobbly legs to hold her close.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm more than fine." She smiles, straightening up and gently pushing his arms away, and she's the one surprised when she slightly stumbles, leaning back against the wall.

He has to hold back the cocky smirk and another remark tickling his lips as she's already searching for her panties somewhere on the floor. He knows she doesn't like to show her weaknesses, and even if his protective nature just wants to hold her and give special gentleness to every part of her from her sore muscles to her anxious mind, he finds her really cute right now, all flushed and sweaty yet still stubborn.

The tornado Anastasia... He still grabs the handkerchief from his jacket, his hands already helping her clean the mess they've made, almost despite himself, and she doesn't protest, giving in to his soft care.

"We can't go back there like this." She motions nervously with her head to the closed door before her gaze comes back to her glistening body, which a square of cloth isn't enough to wipe, and then up to his own body and what he guesses are the same red marks as on her milky skin.

"We look... fucked," she whispers the last word that is so far from her usual language but that must be the only one to describe how they're looking, and the sound of it stretches his smug grin.

"I think that's what we quite did." 

"Ha. Ha." She turns away from him, going back to her ballgown a few feet away on the floor again because she doesn't want to let him see the warmth he is creating on her cheeks and elsewhere with his mischievously confident gaze. 

The contrast between the black cloth accentuating the depth of his tenebrous eyes and the rest of his naked body all glimmering with sweat is terrible for the few remains of her sanity.

"Are you done yet with your little manly ego puff? Can you help me with the dress?" She lifts an eyebrow, making sure to carefully focus on the dark gray wall behind him to keep a flat expression, while her shaky fingers are battling with her corset.

"With pleasure, but I'm not sure I'll help you put it on or off." His hoarse voice echoes near her ear as he positions himself right behind her.

Her legs are still numb with the haze of her high from minutes ago, yet tingles are forming all over as his hands are following the reverse path, and she knows he is lingering more than necessary, pulling her hands away every time she tries to help.

"You're insatiable!" She shakes her head, even though she is craving his touch as much, and she is breathless when he carefully places her breasts in the corset and finally pulls up the rest of the zipper.

"Only for you."

Those three words are making her legs weaker than all his touches, and this is probably all she could have ever wished to hear tonight, three little words that make this masquerade worth going to, even if he has had really convincing arguments before. Apparently, he has even more as he steps in front of her again, his penetrating gaze roaming her body once more. 

"I should have told you sooner, but... tu es éblouissant tonight."

Now, it isn't only her legs that are melting, and if he keeps saying small yet meaningful words like these, she won't find the strength to walk out of this room.

"Even if I look fucked right now?" she asks, fighting unsuccessfully the smile warming her cheeks.

"Even more right now." He tucks a strand fallen from her bun behind her ear, his eyes sparkling at her.

"You are too," she whispers, combing her fingers through his own messed curls. "Before, and right now," she adds, mirroring the path of his gaze, except that his godly body is still almost-naked, and his grin widens until they are both smiling foolishly at each other.

For a second, she forgets again the world outside that room, outside them. Their tensed argument from moments ago feels like a distant memory, and she is once more catching herself wondering what he is thinking.

But this time, she gets an answer as he thinks out loud, "Oh, I almost forgot!"

He rushes to his jacket on the floor before she can ask, and she is clueless again as he makes sure to hide whatever he is grabbing in his inside pocket from her curious eyes.

That's only when he comes back in front of her that he opens his palm, making her heart leap with a jump that it always seems to do in front of these simple objects.

"I wanted to offer you a rose, but I thought it would be complicated to take home... I thought it was safer..." His brown eyes take that special tender teddy shade, searching for her reaction from under his brows because she has no reaction.

At least that's what it must look like as her eyes are widening and flickering to take the details from the precious little item and up to the strong man, who looks as priceless, waiting anxiously for her response. 

He is chewing on the corner of his lips, more and more until his teeth are reaching the center of his swollen lips, almost drawing blood as she still hasn't uttered a word or even moved more than her gaze.

However, inside, everything is rushing, and she doesn't know how to translate the loud bangs of her heart and the warmth spreading everywhere, annihilating any remaining tensions, or even any sensible thoughts.

"It's... It's even better. I love it!" It feels like an understatement, but she can't find more words, so she takes the keyring, her fingers tracing the deep pink flower trapped inside the transparent circle.

The rose looks so delicate yet intense, and inside that bubble, she knows it will last forever.

"Thank you." She lifts up her gaze to these chocolate eyes observing her as carefully as she has done with the gift.

It is almost unsettling how transparent his tenebrous eyes are. They are shining, yet drawing her to drown in their darkness, and the few bright lights on the dark-colored walls behind are only accentuating this hypnotizing impression, and creating a play of shadows and lights. The shadows are mixing with his black mask and deepening the lines and crevices of his body. While the lights are dancing on the outlines of his strong figure, highlighting the taut muscles and sharpening the angles of his now-relaxed jaw. 

Yet no light can outshine the glow in his gaze. That's what may be so striking because the shadows and lights are the same as when she has entered this room, but Nathaniel doesn't look the same, and it is more than clothe-wise; it's the contrast between the tensions and boiling darkness she has seen and now, the serenity and warmth he is emanating.

"You guessed the colors..." she whispers, even more breathless than minutes ago.

She doesn't know what to say; Nathaniel is the one who always has the right words, and with just a few, he has her speechless, looking for words that don't exist.

"That was a stroke of luck!" He chuckles before his expression becomes more serious, although it doesn't dim his easy smile. "Or maybe we're just connected?" He threads their fingers together, kissing softly the top of her hand.

"I will definitely use it."

She already knows which key she will link, and she puts her lips to better use than awkward answers, pressing them to the corner of his lips, where he has just been nibbling nervously. She takes her time to express herself thoroughly this way, and when she pulls away, he once more has the right words.

"There's a small bathroom just there."

Of course, it doesn't sound as sweet, but these words are still much needed, as she has forgotten the masquerade, too lost in her Nathaniel-daze, in their little bubble.

***

"A kids match?! Really?!"

Nate isn't surprised by Darrell's gasp, though he's expected his best friend to realize it sooner. Now, they're already seated, so maybe he won't go away.

"Yes, it's–"

"She's there?" Darrell interrupts whatever excuse Nate could have invented, his quiet yet deadly serious tone bringing Nate's gaze to him.

Letting his eyes wander around in hopes of spotting a familiar petite silhouette may not have been the wisest, even though Darrell knows him too well no matter what.

"Yesterday's night hasn't been enough?" Darrell's voice rises slightly, and it's clear he makes a conscious effort to lower it as he continues, "Dude, I'm not covering you again."

Being already seated doesn't seem to be enough reason for Darrell to stay as he gets up abruptly, and Nate barely has time to react and grab his arm to stop him.

"Yes, she's here, but I won't go see her." He lets out a sigh, trying to form the right words to not sound like a selfish addict.

From what it looks like: suggesting to his best friend to go see a match without telling him the real reason behind it, it doesn't appear really convincing.

"She doesn't even know that I'm here, and she's with her family, so I won't go see her."

'It's never good when there's people around', her soft accent is echoing inside his head.

"But I've promised to her little brother that I would be here."

Darrell lifts an eyebrow, showing him clearly that he's only worsening his case, and he adds to lay it on thick, "Her brother? Are you crazy? Do you wanna get caught?"

"He doesn't know." Nate shakes his head. "The kid needed help for his practice, and I was there, so I just helped him once. You know how tough it can be to fit in at this age."

"No, I don't know. I've always been popular!" Darrell shrugs.

Of course, his confidence and his jokes have always allowed him to fit in easily. Nate remembers how impressed he's been by Darrell's popularity on just their first day and how he's never thought they could become best friends when they've got assigned in the same room at the regiment.

"But okay." Darrell sighs, maybe softened by the same memories as Nate as he nods to the center of the stadium, where the match is already beginning. "I hope for you that those kids throw some action." Though his tone is still tough, a lot like the fathers dragging their kids away from the candy booth a few rows away when he warns, "And don't even try to get anywhere near the chick, or I leave."

"I promise." Nate smiles. That's one of the reasons why he's brought his best friend here: to hold him back from doing something stupid and reckless. "Thank you."

"And you pay for the beers!" Darrell claims, clearly taking advantage of the situation, as for once, Nate easily yields with a chuckle.

"Everything you want!"

"You're really crazy for this chick," his best friend mumbles, shaking his head, and Nate can only agree as his gaze is already going back to rake the surroundings.

The stadium isn't bigger than the one where they've practiced yesterday, but it's in a much better state. The paint in the colors of the Worldwide Nations looks so much fresher, and most importantly, it's filled with quite a lot of people from the field to the bleachers.

'It's never good when there's people around', her voice is always there in the back of his mind, even if his eyes can't find her anywhere.

He's starting to doubt he's at the right place because usually, she attracts his gaze like a magnet. But Archie has written him carefully the address to be sure Nate would come – clearly, the kid has inherited the same determination as his sister, and that's surely why Nate has taken the risk to be there, along with the obvious reason that he finally finds. More exactly, it's Anastasia who finds him.

The tingles brushing softly his skin like a light breeze guide instinctively his gaze towards the pair of mystical hazel eyes, which are now wide in surprise – even in the distance, he can see it.

She is on the other side of the next bleacher, near the first row, while he's much farther. Yet his eyes are still caught by her beauty, just like yesterday, except that right now, she's wearing a simple beige sweater and dark pants. He likes her even better this way: her delicate face not hidden behind a mask and her golden hair down. She is naturally mesmerizing, and it's breath-taking when a smile illuminates her features just for him. 

They might be afar, but they don't need words; it all passes through a gaze and a smile, a special connection that Nate feels deep under his skin.

However, even if nothing exists when their gazes cross, they aren't alone, and when her smile falters and her eyes flicker to the seats beside her, he's brought back to reality.

He recognizes two silhouettes who must be her parents on her right, and mostly the one who takes the cup in her hand, her fiancé.

Of course, he would be here. It's a family event, and Nate has no reason to be here. 

It comes back again, the same sour burn inside his chest that leaves him powerless and suffocating. There might be the loud noises of the match going on and the crowd cheering, but he only hears the painful thuds of his heart, and his mind is already lost faraway in this impression.

'It's never good when there's people around', he can almost hear it through the sorry smile Anastasia offers him, and as her soft eyes lock on his for a meaningful instant, they both go back to the fresh memory of last night.

"Never?! You never use it?!" Anastasia gasps, putting a hand over her mouth when she realizes her voice is echoing in the empty hallway.

Though, just like her mask doesn't cover her beauty, her hand doesn't hide her wide smile under.

"If I had a kitchen like this, I would cook all the time!" She shakes her head, apparently in a mix of awe and disbelief, as Nate has just told her that neither he nor Pamela really uses the large and ultramodern kitchen.

His mind wanders instantly to images of Anastasia in the kitchen, sharing meals with her, dinners, breakfasts... bringing her breakfast in bed...

"I would love for you to teach me how to cook." The words leave his mouth so easily as her soft eyes are roaming everywhere, taking in little details in this private guided tour, yet also making sure there is no one around.

Her gaze comes back to him as she pulls her lips to the side, considering the idea, and he wonders if the same images are appearing in her mind because his is running wild, and the playful sparkle in her eyes only makes his thoughts drift more.

"Or we could eat something else..." he whispers near her ear, so no one can hear and he can watch the trail of goosebumps forming on her velvety skin below.

"You're insatiable!" She laughs, softly swatting him away.

"Hey! I'm not the only one!" He offers her a knowing smirk, glancing down at his opened shirt, where the missing buttons are as obvious as her flushed cheeks, taking the same deep tint as her mask above.

"Only for you," she mumbles just as they arrive in front of his bedroom, and even if she's avoiding his gaze, he guesses her eyes are shining deviously like always, and he forgets all his apprehensions to enter this room in front of his sinful angel.

He even rushes to get inside and pull her in his arms for a few more seconds.

The way her petite silhouette is fitting perfectly in his arms feels surreal, and he wishes he could show it to the world. But he's already happy he can have those special stolen moments that are maybe too precious and fragile to be shared with the rest of the world.

"So this is your bedroom?" She pulls her head back to look at him with a bashful smile, and he can hear the hints of wavers in her voice.

"Yes," he sighs. 

This isn't a usual answer for people who have big, fancy rooms like this, yet for him, something is suffocating in the white and large space.

He doesn't even dare to follow the path of her eyes on the details he knows by heart: the dressing table with a few of Pamela's belongings, the 'perfect' picture of a day that feels like a lifetime ago, and the biggest detail: the white perfectly-made bed.

"Come here, you'll help me choose the shirt." He tugs her away to the door leading to the dressing-room on the opposite corner.

"I thought you said you had the exact same one, so no one can noti–" She stops with a gasp, her eyes widening like they've been a few minutes ago in the kitchen.

"Of course! A dressing room! I was right: your house is sophisticated, expensive, and... big!" She lets out a giggle, so light and soft that it wraps around every part of him until he's laughing in chorus with her.

This is extraordinary how the tensions never last when they're together; it's like they create this special bubble of happiness to protect what they have.

"And is it like me?" He lifts an eyebrow, taking off his shirt as her gaze follows the trail of his fingers.

He almost fears that the loud thuds of his heart against his ribcage might be seen on his bare chest as she stifles a smile, and they share their unique and light complicity that doesn't need words.

"Nate, baby?"

Now, he is sure that the jump of his heart is visible as it crashes against his ribcage, and the light tickles in his veins are replaced by freezing dread when he hears Pamela's voice so close, maybe in the bedroom right next, or what he prays for: a little farther in the hallway.

He's paralyzed as the worst scenarios are already crippling his head and his whole body. His shirt still open, Anastasia's stunning presence, and them both in the dressing room, there are few possibilities that it would look innocent, even if this moment is one of the most innocent they've shared.

"Nate, you're here?"

This time he's sure that Pamela is in the bedroom, and hell appears right behind that door with no exit. The suffocating coldness is already reaching him, and for once, Anastasia can't melt his fears. 

Her beautiful eyes are wide in shock, clouds of fear already blurring them, and the white lights of the closets are only accentuating the paleness of her skin, which must be from the same loud bangs pumping the blood out of his face. She resembles even more an innocent angel like this, and behind her mask and all the shadows of worries, something in her gaze reminds him of their first encounter and her pure innocence.

He would do anything to protect this pure angel, this purpose is strong enough to pull him out of his paralyzed fright. 

He puts a finger on his lips, letting her know through his eyes and their unique connection that he will handle everything as he points to the rows of hanging clothes and goes to the door with the same rush as when he's on a mission.

"Pamela?" His heart does another jump when he finds his wife right in front of him the second he passes the door, yet he tries his best to gulp down the loud echoes of his heart and the bitterness closing on his throat. "What are you doing here?" 

Sometimes the best defense is a good offense, and it'll buy him a few more seconds to find a lie.

"I was cold, so since I didn't have your arms to warm me and you were nowhere to be seen, I'm here to get my blue shawl." Pamela takes a step towards the door, but Nate blocks her the way more than an army would protect a precious treasure.

"Let me grab it for you!" He smiles, forcing himself to sound natural despite the lump in his throat threatening to swallow him all. "You're the star of the party. You can't abandon your guests for too long."

"You're an angel, thank you."

The weights sinking in his stomach and the visions of hell getting closer and closer are hinting at the contrary. But his priority is protecting his angel, and she's the one keeping him from crumbling down as all the beats of his heart are flying behind that door, along with most of his thoughts as he wonders what she's feeling in that instant. 

He doesn't even dare to imagine it because he remembers too well how she's reacted every time they've got close to being caught.

Anastasia is clutching his shirt with her shaky hands, the same shirt she has ripped a few moments ago in a wild urge to have him. Nathaniel is right; she is as insatiable as him, and maybe she is craving him even more. 

However, hidden behind smooth and colorful clothes, she is reminded clearly that it is his wife who has him, and right now, she also possesses their lives in her hands. Actually, everyone seems to hold their fates; just a pair of eyes or ears can end their lives. Fergus could too, and as he comes back to her memory, he is already catching her breath.

She doesn't know how long she has disappeared from the masquerade, but she knows it's too long, and she will have to give explanations and lies once more, if she manages to get out of this room.

With Nathaniel, she always feels unstoppable and free, yet the world always catches up with them, trapping them. It is getting harder to breathe, surrounded by fabrics everywhere and her spiraling worries wrapping in a suffocating hold around each part of her.

She buries her face in Nathaniel's shirt, and as insane as it might sound, it opens her chest just slightly to let oxygen into her lungs. It doesn't last long though, as Pamela's voice makes her hold her breath again.

"And you, what are you doing here?"

Of course, Pamela won't be duped that easily, even if Anastasia has heard how convincing Nathaniel has been.

"Um, I was changing my shirt."

Has she heard it right? With her ear glued to the walls, there is no way she has misheard, and she is even afraid they can hear the loud hammerings of her heart on the other side.

"I stained it," he adds, and she is impressed by his reactivity, although she still curses him in her head for the second he has made her heart stop.

She doesn't even hear the rest of the conversation as the hammering is restarting stronger, and she trusts Nathaniel to handle everything. All she knows is that she has to wait a few more excruciating seconds and twice as many painful bangs of her heart before the door opens again.

"Are you okay, Ana?" His soft voice smoothly draws her out of her hiding place, and when their eyes meet, they both let out a breath they have been holding for too long, though his breathing still sounds shaky as his eyes are seeking anxiously an answer. 

She knows exactly why, yet tonight, the fright that usually makes her want to run away only leads her to his arms, where she is welcomed with a warm embrace.

"Everything is fine, don't worry," he murmurs on the top of her head, and she could believe him too easily with the loud thumps of his heart lulling her.

That's why she pulls away, even though she doesn't have more answer when he repeats this simple question,

"Are you okay?"

She just tugs on his hands, suddenly remembering too well that they have to go back to the party before risking too much again. She doesn't know how to translate the chaos happening in her chest anyway, except maybe...

"No... It's never good when there's people around." The words escape her mouth the second they enter his bedroom, his and his wife's bedroom.

She may have been distracted when she has entered it the first time, but now, the cold reality has cleared her dazed mind, and she takes in all those details that bring back the emotions she has felt during the party: guilt, uneasiness, and mostly pain.

She catches the same clouds in his tender eyes when he pulls her back to him.

"Then it has to be just us." The dark shades light up while still holding a serious deep brown, and the contrast is dizzying as he tightens his embrace, the infinite of his eyes appearing closer to let her picture his words. "We could run away to escape the world."

A part of her is already breaking free with him, yet the other part is just breaking under the reality's weight, and it shows in the half-smile she offers him. "And where would we go? No matter where, there would always be people around..."

It would be impossible. Even if inside, he's as conscious as she is that it would be breaking too many laws, the shine still flickers in his gaze, making it look even more like a puppy expression, which rushes the loud beats of her heart, and with them, the words out of her lips.

"Or maybe we could stay at the treehouse."

It is as impossible, yet it makes a large grin break on his features, and her smile follows instantly.

"I like this idea."

'Home', that's where she wants to go, her tired muscles just seeking to stay cuddled with Nathaniel's warm and strong body. But instead, she will be alone in her cold bed, haunted by forbidden memories and impossible dreams, while he will be in this room, with his wife.

The urge of wildness, which she is becoming familiar with, spreads in her veins again at the image, and she doesn't try to fight it as she grabs his jaw, crashing her lips on his. She puts all her held back emotions and all the 'impossible' through this kiss that he deepens passionately, and although it doesn't last long, they're both out of breath when they lean away.

"That way you'll have a memory of me when you go to bed every night," she whispers, her voice less assured than her lips, and before she loses the last bits of her reason, she pulls away with those three little words. "In the meantime..."

The sensations are still too vivid in Anastasia's body, the loud thuds of her heart trying to break free, and the restlessness in her legs, ready to run a thousand miles yet already too weak to stand. She is not fully back here, in the present with the people around, as she sits down, and it is a harsh fall back to reality when Fergus grabs her hand.

She has to hold herself to not shrink away, and she focuses on the field instead, pushing away the burning on her skin from a gaze that is too far and the shivers from Fergus's hand too close.

Though it's only when the number 14 on a blue and gray tee-shirt catches her attention that she manages to pull out of her thoughts, as even her distracted brain can't forget how many times Archie has made sure to repeat it.

It's his turn to be the batter, and she holds her breath as he takes place with his bat in his hands. She knows how important it is for her little brother, and she doesn't want to witness the lonely, defeated look in his eyes again. He is too young to realize that not every dream is possible.

He has worked hard for it, put all his heart and hope into it, and when comes the first shot, the ball passes so close. But he misses it. The ball ends up in the catcher's glove – she now knows the name thanks to yesterday's lesson – and Archie's eyes are going everywhere around.

There, he doesn't look like her annoying brother who has been bragging just yesterday; he is just a nervous kid lost in a big stadium, and her stomach drops at this sight. She fights closing her eyes as the defeat falling on his expression already lets her know that he will miss the next throw.

And sadly, she is always right.

"He isn't holding the bat the right way, his hands are too high." Fergus shakes his head, taking a sip of his green shake.

She has almost forgotten him, the 'best of his baseball team' and something else Archie would add.

"There is still one shot," she replies confidently.

He can do it; he has done it several times yesterday.

"I hope..." Fergus presses his lips together, and it only gives her one more reason to want Archie to win. He can do it.

Their mom is cheering for him on her right, and Anastasia focuses on this positivity, leaning away from Fergus.

However, Archie seems too lost in his gloomy thoughts to feel the support as he is shaking his head, putting the bat away with the same glare as yesterday.

"What is he doing? The Fishers never give up," their dad speaks out exactly what she is thinking.

But with the people around, Archie has forgotten this determination.

A man wearing a tee-shirt in the same colors as the players comes to talk to him, and after a few waves of his hands, a whistle is heard for what she guesses is a signal of break, as the players are leaving their positions. Though Anastasia's attention isn't on this; her eyes are already following Archie who doesn't walk in their direction, and she knows exactly where he is heading. 

She can't blame him because she would surely run there too if there weren't so many people around.

Her heart is thumping as rapidly as if she was the one on the field, and it jumps when she glimpses a familiar and strong silhouette meeting him near the fence.

"Who is he talking to?" their mom asks, and she surely isn't the only one wondering.

Anastasia wants to reply that it is Nathaniel, her hero, but Archie is already making them risk too much, so she stays silent in the deafening sound of her heartbeats.

They don't talk for long, yet it's enough for Archie to run back to the field with determination in his hazel eyes. Nathaniel always has the right words. She is sure Archie will succeed now.

Though as the ball flies, her hand is still tightening its hold, and not on Fergus's hand, but on the small round items in her pocket, and she doesn't let them go, even when Archie moves his bat just at the right time, sending the ball high up in the air.

Their mom is already on her feet, cheering, and inside, Anastasia is too, yet Archie won't be happy until he scores, which she has no doubt he will as he runs faster than ever. 

She wonders if he is thinking about Nathaniel's advice, and she knows for what, herself, she would run. Her heart is taking off there when a roar of applause makes her realize Archie has reached the last base, and she gets up to clap as loud as the rest of the crowd, though maybe the loudest part of the crowd is here, with her parents applauding heartily Archie.

Their cheers are still as loud when a few minutes later, a sweaty Archie runs to them with the biggest grin Anastasia has ever seen him wear.

"I'm officially in the team, and I'll be the second batter!" he exclaims, throwing a glance at the team's victory celebration he has just left.

"Congrats, my little champion!" their mom pulls him in her arms before the little champion can even protest.

"Mom!" Archie complains, afraid that his mom's display of affection will erase the decisive point he has just scored for his team.

But unfortunately for him, he barely escapes their mom's embrace when their dad wraps his arms around him. "Congrats! I'm really proud. But you don't forget school work, right?" He can't help but add, making Anastasia shake her head.

"Bravo, little champion!" She grins at Archie, making sure to not add to his distress and take him in her arms too. It's his day, so she leaves him a truce.

"Yes, congrats! I'm sure you can become a team captain like me one day." Fergus pats Archie's shoulder, offering him a smile. "If you want help to practice, I can try to find some time."

"No, thanks." Archie turns down his offer with a shrug and the same wide grin, and in his blithe innocence, Anastasia admires his guts, stifling her smile. "I already train with Nate, and it's thanks to him that I've won!" He glances around, and she recognizes where he is looking, as her gaze has drifted there before. "He's already left?" He furrows his eyebrows, turning to Anastasia as if she has a claim to know where he is.

But she doesn't, or at least, she shouldn't, and she shouldn't have received this text from him.

'Say Congrats to Archie for me.

See you later ;)'

She shouldn't feel a restlessness to rush to this 'later', and she shouldn't hide all of this to these people close to her. Yet she is very well aware of why she still does it as the reality and the risks are always hovering close.

"Who is Nate?" Fergus asks, his curious gaze traveling between Archie and Anastasia, but once more, it's to her that the attention is pulled.

"A friend of Archie and I." She tries to smile the most naturally possible, hoping that Archie won't add anything, and she doesn't even dare to look at her parents as her dad's severe frown makes her shrink on spot. "I think your team wants to celebrate with you." She nods to the players walking closer to Archie and coming like a life-saving apparition for her, even more than for Archie's loneliness.

Aahhh!! It feels so good to come back to my LOVE BUG babies!! I had so much fun focusing on MY CHRISTMAS ROMANCE for the holidays, but I still missed my Natesia 😍 Did you miss them too?

Quite a lot has happened in this chapter? What do you think? Between Pamela almost catching them at the party and now Archie drawing more attention to Nate 😳😨 Do you think coming to the match was a good idea? Or do you agree with Anastasia, it's never good when there's people around?  🤔

Well, personally, I really like the bond forming between Archie and Nate 💕 And I also think Nate and Ana are so cute? Their moments of complicity 😍 ... and the keyring!!

Tell me what you think in the comments and vote ⭐ if you liked this chapter and missed the weekly updates 😉

There's a lot more to come, and I'm so excited 😏😉😁

I love you, my little rays of sunshine 😘❤

PS: 'tu es éblouissant' = you look dazzling 🤓 That was the French lesson of today, that apparently Nate is trying to learn too 😉