by Alexa Martin
“What about Eloise?” I voice the question that’s been running on a loop through my head for the last four days.
“What about it?” she asks. “If you’re still not convinced that man is into you after he risked the ire of an entire sports fandom to take care of you, then ask him. Life is too damn short to let all of these hypothetical situations run rampant in your mind. Don’t twist a really good thing into something bad. I don’t think he’s the kind of person to drag you along when he’s not interested.”
When Maxwell and Dr. Bowen walked into my apartment, she took one look at me and deemed me severely dehydrated. She pulled out a banana bag, stuck a needle in my vein, and made me rest while pushing fluids back into my body. Maxwell turned on Parks and Rec and sat next to me, explaining the merits of the show to a very skeptical doctor. When the bag was empty and all was said and done, she prescribed me fluids, rest, and no actual drugs.
What’s the point of a doctor if they don’t give you medicine?
I figured Maxwell would head out with her, but instead he camped out on my couch for the rest of the night, making sure I drank enough and even holding my hair back when the second wave of nausea came over me in the middle of the night. Besides when he has to be at work, he hasn’t left me since. Even if that means watching film on the couch next to me on his computer as I binge on the latest season of Vanderpump Rules.
“Okay, I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to make a big deal over it.” I brace myself, knowing this conversation could go in two very different directions.
“You know, after that opening, I can’t make that promise, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”
Crap. I knew that was going to happen.
“Fine, but remember that I’m in a fragile state right now and—”
“Girl!” she interrupts me. “Just talk!”
“Fine.” I take a deep breath, knowing I’m never going to hear the end of it after I fess up. “So remember that time I got a flat on the highway and Maxwell came to get me?”
“Yes . . .”
“Well, the next day when he dropped me off at the mechanic, he asked me to lunch.”
Vonnie jumps up, her Gatorade splashing out of the bottle and onto my couch. “I knew there was more to that story!”
“Yeah, well, when he picked me up for lunch, he had Slurpees and taquitos in his car.” I smile thinking of the supersweet details of the day, but when I look at Vonnie, her eyebrows are drawn in a deep V, not at all impressed with the 7-Eleven delicacies. “That morning I told him how much I loved Slurpees and taquitos, so he brought me tons of them and took me to the art museum.
“When you all had him ambush me at the beer tasting, I mentioned that picking the chairs for HERS was crazy difficult. He remembered that and took me to the new exhibit at the art museum about contemporary chairs.” Even knowing how the date ended, my heart still flutters at how thoughtful and attentive he can be.
“Oh, shoot. That’s cute as fuck.” Even Vonnie has hearts in her eyes now. “Justin has never taken me to the art museum for a surprise date.”
“Right? I thought so too!” I lean back into my couch, hating the next part of the story. “So we’re looking at the chairs and his phone keeps going off and he keeps sending them to voicemail. Finally, I told him to just answer so whoever it was would stop calling.”
“Uh-oh.” Vonnie bites her lip.
“Yup,” I agree. “So he excuses himself and answers the phone, and when I find him, I hear him telling the person to meet him at the team hotel and that he’d text them the address later.” The disappointment that weighs me down feels as heavy as it did the day it happened. Maybe even heavier now that we’ve kissed and he’s been so sweet.
“Is that it?” Vonnie asks, the deep-V eyebrows back.
“What do you mean is that it? He invited another girl back to the hotel while he was out with me!” If I thought it wouldn’t cause me to throw up, I’d strangle her. “I thought we were on a date, and he was making other plans . . . at a hotel! Nothing innocent can happen at a hotel!”
“All right, Brynn.” Vonnie puts the lid on her Gatorade and repositions her body so I can’t escape her eye contact. She’s like the human version of those creepy Renaissance paintings. “You are new to this football thing, so I’m going to enlighten you. When these guys go to the hotel, they are on a strict schedule with the tightest security you can imagine. Justin’s rookie year, he told me to come to the hotel with him, and not only did I get kicked out before I even made it to the elevator, Justin was fined ten grand. Maxwell is a longtime veteran, he knows this. Whoever he was talking to, and you don’t even know if it was a woman, he invited them there because he knew he’d have a controlled environment and wouldn’t be able to talk for long. Nothing happened and I’d put money on it.”
“Wait . . .” I try and comprehend everything she just said. “Are you serious?”
“Dead.” She shakes her head and I’m pretty sure I know how her kids feel when she’s disappointed in them. “You’ve been looking so hard for a reason not to try with him that you’ve ignored how into you he obviously is.”
“Okay, so what if he is into me?” Even the thought of it causes my stomach to flutter. “Then what? I mess it up somehow? I am my mother’s daughter. What if after all of this, we start seeing each other and I pull a Holly Sterling and become disinterested and leave him in the dust? Would I lose you guys? I can’t chance that.”
“I don’t know your mother, something I think I’m very grateful for, but I know that you are not her.” Vonnie wraps her hand around mine. “A lot of us have shit parents, it’s the most overpopulated club there is. But the best part about it is that we have a road map on exactly what not to do in life. I had to go to school and find a strong, dependable man. You just have to not be a horrible person and you’re killing it. Don’t let your demons ruin something that could be really good.”
I need to find friends who aren’t so smart and wise.
“Why do you push me to become a better person?” I throw my head back onto the couch like I’m auditioning for a role in a soap opera. “Fine, you’re right. I’ll talk to him when he comes over.”
“That’s my girl,” Vonnie says, yanking the remote out of my lap. “Now turn this shit on. I have to pick up my kids in two hours, I need to see what Jo and Chip think I should do with my living room next.”
* * *
—
“I BROUGHT PANERA!” Maxwell holds up two massive bags as he makes his grand entrance.
“Did you invite someone else?” I look at the empty doorway behind him.
“No, I just brought options. Three different soups, a few different sandwiches, two pastas, and salad, but I figured lettuce can be hard on your stomach, so I only got one of those.”
And that’s the moment I fell in love.
Kidding.
Kinda.
My stomach starts to growl. I’ve been living on saltines, juice, and ice for the last four days. I’m pretty sure I now have a legitimate fear of throwing up, and I’ve been too nervous to eat anything. But the smell of Panera wafting through my apartment is one way to guarantee that I at least try to eat.
“Oh my god.” I close my eyes, breathing in the fresh-baked goodness as Maxwell starts pulling out all the containers of food and lining them up on my countertop. “You are my favorite person in the entire world.” My eyes fly open. “I mean . . . you know what I mean. I’m hungry and this smells amazing.”
“If I knew sandwiches were the key to your heart, I would’ve hit Panera up instead of groveling for so long.” He winks. “Now, come make your plate.”
I want to shovel everything in my mouth, but the memory of using the toilet seat as a pillow forces some self-control—just not a ton of it. I nab the chicken noodle soup and almost squeal when I see my favorite sandwi
ch. “This is the best!” I grab half of it from the unfolded paper wrapper.
“Yeah, your dad told me.” He hands me the yellow Gatorade from the fridge. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to branch out or if it would still sound good, hence all of the options.”
My eyes go wide and I stop walking. “You called my dad?”
“Was that not okay?” he asks, suddenly looking nervous. “I would’ve called you, but if you were sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you up. I figured your dad would know what you like.”
“No, I don’t mind.” I stare at him, my conversation with Vonnie from earlier running through my mind. “You didn’t have to do any of this, I just really appreciate it.”
“Of course I had to.” His eyebrows furrow together and he takes a step toward me. “Brynn, I don’t know where you are, but I really care about you.”
“What about Eloise?”
His head jerks back. “Eloise?” One of his hands moves to the base of his neck like he’s trying to work out a knot that’s just appeared. “What about her?”
“I mean . . . I thought . . . Are you seeing each other?” My grip on my plate is so tight, I’m worried I might snap it in half, but I can’t seem to loosen it.
“Eloise Withington? No . . . no. Not at all,” he says with steel in his voice. “Where’d you get that from?”
“From her.” My eyes dart around the kitchen, trying to find anything to look at other than Maxwell’s gorgeous, confused face. “She said you gave her your tickets to the game and then you guys went out after.”
“Brynn.” He touches his hand to my cheek. “Will you please look at me, I need you to see me when I tell you this.”
I pull my lips between my teeth and nod, staring deep into his light brown eyes. Nausea rolls in my stomach, but for the first time in days, I think it’s from nerves and not the need to actually throw up. Or at least, I hope so. I’m pretty sure throwing up all over his shoes could ruin the moment.
“There is nothing going on between me and Eloise,” he says. “She paid a lot of money to have me at her father’s firm. You know me, the idea that she could spend that kind of money and I wouldn’t deliver made me a nervous wreck. I offered my tickets because it felt like the least I could do, and then we had dinner and talked about what I could expect when I went into PWT.” He moves his hand to the back of my neck and squeezes gently, never dropping eye contact. “That’s all we talked about. She seems very smart and nice, but the only person I have feelings for is you.”
Thank god I don’t have silverware on my plate, it’d be rattling like crazy with how much my hands are shaking.
“You are the most interesting, insanely beautiful woman I have ever met.” He inches closer, eating up the small space that separates us. “I haven’t pushed anything because I just love having you in my life, in whatever capacity you wanted. You make me forget about football and remind me of who I am outside of it and that sometimes, the best part of life is sitting on the couch and laughing with your best friend.”
I don’t know when I stopped chewing on my lips, but now I’m staring at him with my mouth hanging open. “Wow.”
Wow?
I never stop talking, and in the moment where I really need to say something beautiful and poignant, all I can say is “Wow.”
FML.
“It’s not that . . . I mean—I . . .” I stop and take a deep breath, trying to find an ounce of composure inside. “I care about you, too. It’s just, I’ve never done the relationship thing before, and after seeing what being attached to an athlete has done to my friends, I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me nervous.”
There.
I said it. Like a fucking adult woman who knows how to communicate.
“I’d have to be intentionally obtuse not to see that a relationship was not on your to-do list.” He pulls my plate from my shaking hands and rests it on the counter, wrapping my hands in his. “You are the most fiercely independent woman I’ve ever known. It’s both intimidating as fuck and the biggest turn-on. I’ve been around for those relationships as well, and I’ve watched and learned from them the same way you have. If you give us a chance, I’ll never make you choose. I would never test your independence or dedication to your career.”
He keeps causing my mind to go blank. How do you respond to that? Nothing I can say can measure up to the words this man—who honestly might moonlight as a poet—says to me.
So with my mind blank and without overthinking it, I don’t say anything. I roll onto my toes and touch my lips to his.
“I want to give us a chance,” I tell him before I pull my hands from his and wrap them behind his head. I kiss him deeper this time, hoping I’m not contagious anymore, but not caring that much because for the first time in my life, I have a boyfriend.
Twenty-four
“You look like the heart-eyes emoji,” Charli says.
I do.
“I do not!” I shout anyways. Gotta keep my street cred and all that.
“You kind of do,” Jacqueline pipes in quietly. “But it looks good on you.”
“Whatever,” I mumble. I’m physically unable to yell at Jacqueline the way I do the rest of the girls, she’s just too sweet and I’m already afraid we’re going to break her.
“I’d look like the heart-eye emoji too if I had Max in my bed,” Vonnie says.
I look at Vonnie, my eyes wide in horror that she would say that in my bar packed to the brim with strangers just waiting to hear the newest bit of gossip to take home and bring to the Love the Player blogs and chat rooms . . . if chat rooms are even a thing anymore. “Jesus, would you like a megaphone so you can announce my business to the entire world?” The only saving grace is that the film crew isn’t set to get here for another hour, so at least it won’t end up on TV.
“I don’t know why you haven’t,” Vonnie yells. “Maxwell Lewis is your man. I’d be shouting that shit from the rooftops.”
“Is he as sweet in bed as he is out of it?” Aviana asks, clearly ignoring my wishes not to discuss this in public. Not that I’m surprised it’s coming from her. The girl has absolutely no boundaries, it’s why she’s reality TV gold.
“I don’t know,” I whisper yell. “We haven’t . . .” I look around to see if the group next to us is paying attention. “We haven’t had sex yet.”
All four women in front of me fall back into their chairs with their jaws in their laps, staring at me in silence until I start to fidget.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You . . . ,” Charli starts but just shakes her head, not finishing her sentence.
“You mean to tell me”—Vonnie leans forward, finally whispering—“that you’ve spent the last . . . what? All this time together and you haven’t slept together?”
I learn that’s a rhetorical question when I open my mouth to answer but she screams out over me, “What the fuck have you been doing?”
This time when I look at the groups surrounding us, they don’t even pretend not to be listening, they are all turned in the seats, eyes focused directly on me.
Rude.
“I told you, we watched Netflix and talked.”
“You said you guys Netflix and chilled,” Charli says.
“Well, yeah.” I shrug, not understanding the disconnect. “We would chill and watch Netflix . . . well, Hulu, but same thing.”
“Oh, sweetie. No.” Aviana shakes her head. “‘Netflix and chill’ means you turn on a movie you don’t actually care about and fuck.”
“What?” My eyes bulge out of my head and my cheeks heat. “Why would it mean that?”
Dear god. I’m the most celibate I’ve been in my entire adult life and I’ve been telling people the polar opposite. Now I know how my dad felt when I used to judge him for not understanding what I was talking about.
Aviana shrugs, her long beach-waved hair bouncing along her shoulders. “I didn’t come up with the term, I just know what it means because I’m not eighty-five.”
I flip her off. “Shut up.”
The most professional decision I’ve ever made? No. The most satisfying? Pretty close.
“Whatever, that’s not even the important topic of this discussion,” Aviana says, not fazed by my irritation. “You’re seriously telling us that you and Max are officially a couple and you haven’t even had any nookie? How’d you manage that?”
“For real,” Vonnie chimes in. “If I was alone with that man, I’d be all over him.”
“Okay, first of all, Vonnie, you talk a big game, but I don’t believe you’d do any of the shit you say,” I say.
“Hmph.” Vonnie rolls her eyes. “You want a character witness, you can call Justin. I did not tiptoe around wanting him, hence our three boys and this rock on my finger.”
I don’t respond to her. Vonnie chose being a lawyer for a reason—I know I’m not likely to win any debates with her.
“We were friends.” I feel like a broken record with how often I’ve said that phrase. “We hung out and talked and laughed. You don’t actually have to have sex before you enter in a relationship, it’s not like we got married.”
“I thought only the Amish did that anymore.” Aviana’s beautiful face crumples like she smells something putrid.
A lot of blogs think that Aviana is putting on an act for the cameras, but I can say with one hundred percent certainty that she is not. She’s just as over the top and ridiculous in her everyday life.
She also has a makeup artist on call.
She’s glam goals.
Plus, Crosby adores her and they have one of the healthiest relationships I’ve ever been around. Granted, I did miss their rather messy beginning.
“I literally cannot with you right now.” I shake my head to keep from laughing. “I’m going to go walk around, but if you need anything, Abby’s been informed of all of your drink preferences.”
