Emma shivered in her sweatshirt, pulling it off her arms and brushing the water off. The cold air that had been held off by the soaked fabric of her hoodie now bit at her arms and her torso through the tank top she had worn underneath. She folded her arms across her chest, as Sam started tossing the ball in the air, watching Emma expectantly. Her eyes widened slightly and she looked away, shaking out the pages that hadn't been ruined in the rain.

"What are you doing out here at 10:30 anyway?" he asked conversationally, eyes remaining trained on the ball.

"Sometimes this place helps with writer's block." she replied nervously. "What are you doing here?" she asked. He huffed a small, almost inaudible laugh.

"Practicing." Emma nodded, turning back to her notebook. Sam watched amusedly as the author muttered to herself, reading over whatever she had written on the paper. "I have a game tomorrow, and there are gonna be scouts from the MLL there." He rambled, surprising himself.

"Anything I can do to help?" the stranger offered shyly, looking at his stressed expression. He looked at her, the ball crashing to the floor as he got distracted by the sincerity in her blue eyes.

"If you want to." He replied loudly, to be heard over yet another crack of thunder.

"Sure. I mean, we are going to be stuck in here for a while." She shrugged, pushing off the wood floor. Sam tossed her the ball, and jogged to the opposite end of the cabin, grabbing his lacrosse stick as he went. Emma rolled the heavy ball in her palm, staring at Sam. He laughed a little as she looked nervously at the windows. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just throw it." He responded. Emma rolled her eyes as he inched closer, not expecting her to be able to throw it far enough. The blue eyed boy jumped back catching it effortlessly in the pocket as the brunette author pitched it like a baseball, throwing it farther than he had expected. "Dude, nice." He allowed, grinning as he threw it back.

"My parents are baseball fanatics." She explained, throwing the ball again. He groaned as he caught it. "Not a huge baseball fan?" she assumed. He shook his head enthusiastically. "Me neither." She said, shaking her hands out before she threw it back, as the lacrosse ball slapped against her palms harder than before. Emma's eyes widened as she looked around the house they were sheltered in, ideas for her story flooding her mind as her eyes landed on the handsome lacrosse player standing against the opposite wall. Emma didn't notice the ball flying towards her, until it slammed into her face, knocking her to the wooden floor.

"You ok?" Sam asked nervously, pulling Emma to her feet. She looked up, bangs falling away from her eyes. He winced. "I'm really sorry." He muttered, looking away from the girl's slowly developing black eye.

"It's all good. The story idea you gave me makes up for it." She countered, gently running her fingers over her eye. Sam blinked incredulously.

"Will you come to my game tomorrow?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't even know you." Emma chuckled, picking the lacrosse ball up off the ground.

"I don't know you either. But that…" he pointed behind him at the opposite end of the room. "is the best I've played all week."

"Superstitious much?" she responded.

"Not usually." He said, staring at her hopefully.

"Where's your game?" she relented. He smiled brightly.

"We play at Marymoor tomorrow." Emma nodded, bending over to get the pen out of her boot, taking Sam's hand in her own, somewhat awkwardly. She scrawled her number out on his palm, turning away to look out the window.

"Text me the rest of the details." She called as she walked towards the door. "It stopped raining, by the way." She told him before disappearing out the door. Sam looked up from his hand, staring confusedly at the now closed door.