Delaney
Mav-Man: Did you get the gift I left on your porch?
Me: You mean the stuffed animal wearing a Jedi outfit? Didn’t know it was from you.
Mav-Man: Minx. Who else buys you stuffed cats? I’ll make you pay for that remark later.
Me: Can’t wait. XOXO
I sip from a glass of red wine as I sit across from Maverick inside Giardina’s Italian Grill, an eatery a few blocks from campus. With dark lighting, a ceiling strung with ivy, and a collection of art depicting scenes from Venice on the amber-colored walls, it’s quaint and a popular date night place—which is what we’re doing tonight. Saturdays are busy, and I’m glad Maverick called ahead to reserve a table for four. I cross my legs under the table and uncross them, nervous to be meeting his dad and seeing Raven again.
He taps his fingers on the table, on edge, perhaps because his dad and sister are officially ten minutes late. He keeps staring at his phone, checking the time and seeing if she’s texted him.
I study him, taking in the chiseled jawline, the straight angles of his nose and forehead. It’s late March and his hair has grown out; he wears it swept back off his face, the ends curling around his ears. A pale blue button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up is paired with a pair of jeans that sculpt the taut muscles of his thighs. He smells intoxicating, all earthy and spicy from his shower at my place. Even though he looks great semi-dressed up, my favorite look on him is gym shorts, a tank, and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.
“You look gorgeous,” he tells me, taking in my demure Peter Pan-collared black dress. The lapels are a stark white with tiny seed pearls I sewed on myself. His hand reaches out and strokes a long finger down my neck, ending at my collar where he tugs me toward him and kisses me lightly on the lips. “I’m with Skye—you should look into fashion when you graduate.”
I grin. I love how beautiful and talented he thinks I am. “Maybe. I’m not sure what I’ll do after this, maybe grad school.”
“Where at?” There’s a worry line on his forehead, and I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want me to go to far from wherever he ends up in the NFL.
I study the white linen of the tablecloth. “I’m not sure, maybe somewhere back in North Carolina.”
What I don’t say is I really don’t know because I want to know where he’ll be going next year. I sigh at the prick of fear that rises up at the direction of my thoughts. Maverick is…he’s all I think about. What I felt for Alex doesn’t even compare.
Just then his phone pings with a text, and he pulls away to glance down at it.
His face tightens.
“What’s wrong?” Just a few days ago, a local strip club called about his dad, and Maverick drove to pick him up then took him back to their house, where he spent the rest of the night. He wasn’t able to leave until the nurse showed up for Raven.
He exhales, his eyes still reading the text. “It’s Raven. Dad hasn’t come home from work yet and isn’t answering his phone. The nurse is ready to go but doesn’t want to leave her alone. She’s gone next door to see if the neighbor is home.” He looks up at me. “He should have been home an hour ago.” He checks his watch.
“Can you call the garage?”
He grimaces. “They’re already closed. He’s probably at a bar.” Uncertainty crosses his face and he looks around the room as if searching for answers. He’s told me a lot about growing up with an alcoholic father who rarely had a steady job.
He looks through his phone and calls a few different numbers to ask if his dad is there, keeping his voice quiet.
I take his hand. “We can just go to her. That way you won’t be worried and she won’t be upset, and you can figure out what’s going on with your dad later.”
He looks up. “You don’t mind?”
“Of course not. She’s your sister.” I pause, seeing from his intensity that this is important to him. “I’ve always wanted a sister, so any sister of yours is a friend of mine,” I assure him.
“The trip will take an hour if we go get her then come back—and she will want to come back because this is her favorite place. You said earlier you were starving…” He searches my face for a chink in my optimism.
There isn’t one.
I smile. “You’ll figure out that I’m pretty easy and laid back. I may be a bit of a nerd, but that doesn’t mean I’m a control freak and have to have everything a certain way.” I gather my purse and jacket off the back of the chair and notice he hasn’t moved yet, a hesitant look on his face. “Is there something else?”
He stands and takes my arm in a brisk motion, as if he doesn’t want to respond to my question. He lays down more than enough money to cover my glass of wine and gives a nod to the server who brought us our drinks. He explains to her that we have to go but will come back later. A young teen girl who’s obviously a Maverick fan, she tells us they’ll make sure we have a table once we come back.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as we head to the foyer of the restaurant.
He exhales. “The thing is…you’ve never seen where I grew up. It’s not much.”
“You don’t have to apologize for how you grew up. Your humble circumstances made you who you are”—I squeeze his hand—“and you’re one of the most honest, hardworking people I know.”
“I’m not honest.”
What? I look at him. “Yes, you are.”
He doesn’t meet my gaze and I imagine I read remorse on his face, but over what, I can’t imagine.
“You have stalked me since freshman year…so there’s that.” I give him a soft slap on the shoulder, trying to change his mood.
He nods and shoots me a brief smile, seeming to come around. “Yeah, and you always dreamed about me even when we weren’t together. You watched me on the field at every home game and wondered what it would be like between us. You may not admit it—because you were seeing Alex—but I know you did.”
“How on earth do you contain that giant ego of yours? Oh, that’s right—you don’t.”
He tugs at my hair. “Admit it—you’ve wanted me since the moment I kissed you at the bonfire.”
“Nope.”
“You have.”
“Okay, fine. I can’t deny a few fantasies,” I murmur. “There’s this one in particular where you’re in a Han Solo outfit in my front yard holding an eighties-style boom box, trying to woo me.”
“Do I have a light saber?”
I grin, waggling my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah, a big one.”
He laughs, and I lean my head on his shoulder as we walk out the door, aware that several pairs of eyes are watching us. A few die-hard fans even have their phones out and are snapping pics. A young boy, around eight years old, has been sitting in the waiting areas with his family and comes running up, yelling Maverick’s name. He hands him a napkin to scrawl an autograph on and he graciously does so before folding it back into the kid’s shirt pocket.
Just as we’re almost to his truck, Maverick’s phone rings and he looks down at it, sees who’s calling, and stops.
“Is it your dad?”
He shakes his head, his face hardening “No, but I need to take this.” He hands me the keys. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll be there in a second.”
I glance at the ringing phone in his hand and the scowl on his face.
“Ryker?” I press.
“No. Just wait for me please.” His words are curt, and my body stiffens. I want to ask him what the hell is going on, but he’s barely noticing because the phone has all his attention. I watch as he stalks away from me to take the call, going several feet before he answers, his voice hushed.
What is he hiding from me?
I get in the truck, but I turn around to watch him as he paces back and forth, his body language tense as he listens intently to whoever is speaking.
Why is he being evasive? Maybe it’s Raven. Maybe it has something to do with the bruises he had or the fact that he’s always busy. I chew on my lip as worry settles in my gut. Am I putting my trust in someone who’s only going to let me down? What if these sweet moments with him are just stolen bits of paradise that will crumble at any moment?
What if…he breaks my heart?