When We Met

by A. L. Jackson

  Morning, Sunshine. I snorted reading the message as a sensation of warmth filled my stomach.

  Who is this?

  U wound me.

  I bet.

  Seriously. Your words are like a knife to my tender heart.

  Oh Lord. It’s getting deep in here. Where R U?

  At the airport.

  Fun.

  Honestly, traveling is the worst part of the season.

  You mean you don’t have fans everywhere you go?

  Sure, sometimes. It’s still not like being home. Plus some of the guys are more responsible than others.

  What about U?

  I listen to Coach. Whatever he says goes.

  What about when it comes to girls? How would your coach feel if he knew you were texting me, trying to get in my pants?

  Hey! Whoa! Who said I was trying to get in your pants?

  Do I have idiot stamped on my forehead?

  Not sure. I’m not there.

  Let’s assume I don’t. We both know what’s going on here. My words were blunt, but that was my intention.

  We do?

  Dalton, don’t be coy. It doesn’t suit you.

  Fine. I like you, Court, and I want to go out with you even though you’re just trying to get in my pants. A startled laugh left me after reading his text. He was seriously incorrigible.

  You’re a mess.

  By mess you mean adorable, right?

  Were you dropped on your head a lot as a baby?

  Go out with me again. He switched gears, no longer dancing around what he wanted.

  That would be a little hard since you’re out of town.

  I mean when I get back.

  That probably isn’t a good idea.

  Why not?

  Because I’ll spend the whole time trying to get in your pants. I could feel the corners of my mouth lifting, knowing he had just read my text.

  That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Is that a yes?

  The smile left my face as I studied his words. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. If I took the plunge, there was a chance it would leave my heart bleeding and broken on the rocks below. The kicker to the situation was that I did want to go out with him. His attention over the past week was a heady experience. More than half the female population on campus would gladly switch places with me. Maybe if I kept the date fun and casual without allowing my heart to become involved like before, I would be more comfortable saying yes.

  Court???? R U still there?

  Yep.

  Will U?

  How do I know you’re not toying with me? I hated that I felt the need to ask the question. It made me sound like some insecure little girl.

  You’re going to have to trust me. I’m not going to hurt you again. I promise.

  What are you willing to do?

  U mean like to prove myself?

  Yep.

  Sounds like you already have something in mind.

  Maybe.

  Let me guess, you want me to tie myself to a flagpole and declare my love for you in front of everyone?

  Sounds like you’re the one who had something in mind, I teased. It’s a good idea, but I had something else in mind. I couldn’t help giggling as I filled him in on what I expected him to do. If he actually went through with it, there would be no way I could say no to a date with him. I wasn’t even sure I would do what I asked if I were in his shoes. Regardless of the fun I was having, I reluctantly told him I needed to get going.

  Our text conversation played through my head the rest of the day as I tried to cram a week’s worth of errands into a few hours. Saturdays were always my catch-up day since work, classes, and homework consumed my time during the week. Sunday was completely devoted to Mom. We’d made a pact years ago that we would always make Sundays our day to get together. We weren’t religious or anything. Mom just strongly felt Sunday should be a family day. It didn’t matter that it was just the two of us. It was because of her that I never missed not having a dad. Mom played both parental roles and she did it flawlessly. We had a special relationship.

  Not surprisingly, Gruby’s was packed to the gills. Tonight’s game was nationally televised, which drew a lot of attention. There wasn’t a single empty seat in the place, meaning a great night of tips for me.

  The game hadn’t started yet, but the pregame show was blaring from every TV. I was busy handling numerous tables but managed to catch snippets of the announcing crew discussing the team’s chances of being a number-one seed in the upcoming March tournament. My ears especially perked up when I heard them mention Dalton’s name. I stopped for a moment to watch the clips from the previous game showing Dalton shooting one three-pointer after another. The crowd in the restaurant cheered loudly with each swish through the net like it was happening live.

  It felt strange to watch everyone react so strongly to everything he did. Like they were all worshipping Saint Dalton. I wondered what it must feel like knowing the hopes and dreams of an entire university rested in your hands. I felt the stirrings of doubt as I began to second-guess my decision to give him a chance. How could someone like him be interested in me? Of course, that was if he actually went through with his end of the bargain. If not, I’d have my out. The chances of him backing out had to be high. My request was admittedly ridiculous. Surely he’d come to his senses and move on to the next girl.

  The sound of the announcers laughing on the TV grabbed my attention once again. “What does Dalton Thompson have painted on his face?” I pivoted around, groaning when I saw the glaring evidence of my dare on the giant six-foot screen. “Is that a heart?” one of the announcers asked incredulously.

  Everyone in Gruby’s stared at the TV screens, trying to make sense of what they were seeing. I couldn’t believe he went through with it. A laugh bubbled up in my throat. He had risked making himself a bit of a spectacle to his teammates, coaches, and even the media to go out on one date with me. There was no way I could back out now.

  Amanda squealed, sliding up next to me. “Holy shit. Why does Dalton have a heart stenciled on his cheek?”

  I tried to look innocent, but the goofy grin on my face gave me away.

  “Slap my ass and call me a tramp. You’re responsible for this?”

  I clamped a hand across her mouth. “Shush, you don’t have to announce it to the whole restaurant.”

  “Why is he wearing a heart?” she mumbled through my fingers.

  “I sorta told him I’d go out with him again if he painted a bright red heart on his cheek for the game.” I admitted it but felt more than a little embarrassed about my request.

  “OMG, that is fucking hilarious.”

  I grinned at her. The announcers were still speculating about the heart. One commented maybe it had something to do with Valentine’s Day, even though that was a few weeks prior. The other suggested maybe it was for his mother. Regardless, the fact that Dalton Thompson did it made it news.

  Amanda gushed now that my hand wasn’t wrapped around her mouth. “Holy crap. You’re going out with Dalton again?”

  “And that’s the reaction I was worried about. One can’t simply go out with Dalton without everyone speculating. Can you imagine the shit he’s going to get?”

  “What are you talking about? Any guy would be lucky to date you.”

  I snorted. “Right, because I’m so knockout gorgeous.”

  “Shut up. You have to know you’re a bombshell. Sure, maybe travel-sized, but beautiful nonetheless. You’re proportioned just right. Trust me. Girls are jealous of your knockers and ass.”

  I laughed at her choice of words even though I was sure she was blowing sunshine up my ass. Long-legged twigs were what guys were looking for, in my opinion. I wasn’t sure what Dalton’s deal was with me. Maybe he had a list and he had reached short and curvy.

  “How else do you figure you got a recognized player to paint his face for a nationally televised game? I couldn’t even get my douche-canoe ex to stick around.”
/>   “Well, he was an ass. It seemed like you and Collin hit it off last night, though.”

  “We did. We’re supposed to go out again when he gets back, but . . .”

  “Oh no. What’s wrong with him?” I knew that tone in her voice. “You didn’t even give him a chance,” I said, thinking about poor Collin. Amanda’s dating track record was less than stellar.

  “I don’t know. He seems a little too good to be true. I’m waiting for the second date to see if his true colors come out.”

  “Oh my. God forbid he’s a good guy.”

  “Ha. You’re a fine one to speak. You’ve got the team’s all-star jumping through hoops and you’re all like, ‘I’m too ugly.’ Seriously?”

  “Don’t be a jerk.” I chuckled, swiping at her. “I bet Collin would do the same for you.”

  She smirked. “I’m not so sure of that. Dalton is pursuing you like you’re holding the golden ticket to Wonka’s Factory. He wants your candy.”

  “Shut it.” I frowned at her with butterflies dancing lightly in my stomach.

  The heart on Dalton’s face was a popular topic the rest of the evening. Especially since Dalton played great, as usual. As the last few minutes of the game ticked away, the announcers declared the heart a lucky charm and speculated whether Dalton would repeat it for every game. I could have spoken up and at least set everyone at Gruby’s straight, but I kept my lips tightly closed.

  chapter eight

  Dalton

  Did you see? I texted Sunday morning.

  See what? The reply came back almost immediately, making me smile. I liked that Courtney responded so quickly. She must be at least a little interested in me.

  Very funny. I have proof in case you missed it.

  Okay, I might have seen it but I’m not sure the size justifies a date.

  Nice try. I’ll pick you up at three tomorrow afternoon. I’d already prepared myself in case she tried to back out. There would be no chance of that.

  What if I have to work?

  U don’t. U told me yesterday U were off.

  Aren’t you going to be tired from your trip? Her last-ditch attempt was cute, but I wasn’t budging.

  Nope, I’ll be all rested up.

  R U always such an eager beaver when U go out with someone?

  Normally I don’t have to work so hard.

  Great, so I’m like some conquest for sporty-boy who normally gets everything he wants just by smiling?

  Well, my smile is pretty amazing.

  Oh Lord. I think I’m coming down with a stomach bug.

  Look, you’re not a conquest.

  Then what am I?

  A refreshing change.

  I may have just sprained my eyes from rolling them.

  You’re still going. I’ll be there by three.

  Don’t you want my address?

  I chuckled, earning a grin from Collin, who was sprawled across the seats next to me in the airport. I have my ways. Hamilton Street, right?

  Really? How?

  Can’t reveal my sources.

  Typical.

  We were getting ready to board our plane, so I had to say good-bye, which was probably a good thing. The way my luck had started with Courtney, I’d say something she would take out of context and I’d be in the doghouse again.

  “Bro, you got it bad,” Collin observed.

  He didn’t know the half of it. He’d really think I was a pussy if he saw all the messages we’d exchanged.

  “You’re just jealous.”

  “You wish. I got my own thing working.”

  “We’ll see. Amanda is known for chewing guys up and spitting them out.”

  “That’s because she’s never rode the Collin train,” he said, cracking a smile.

  “Wow, you should tell her that. I bet she’d tear her clothes off.”

  “Do I look stupid?”

  “Well, now that you asked . . .”

  He chucked his empty water bottle at me, which I slapped away easily.

  Collin was cool, but I had my own girl issue to worry about. For whatever reason, tomorrow felt like the most important date I’d ever gone on. I didn’t want to screw it up. Over the past two days, my initial relationship with Courtney had changed from pursuit to genuine interest. Through the course of our text-messaging, I’d gotten a small glimpse into the person behind the force field she seemed to have up when she was around me. I was definitely intrigued. Tomorrow I would get to see even more.

  • • •

  The drive from my apartment to Courtney’s house on Hamilton Street took less than ten minutes Monday afternoon. I felt something in my stomach that I could only have guessed was nerves. It was a feeling I wasn’t used to. Even before big games, one of my strengths was that I stayed as cool as the other side of the pillow. The roads were icy from another cold front that had moved in overnight. Winter in Michigan translated to freeze-your-balls-off cold. I blasted the heat, coaxing it to warm up the car to a suitable temperature before I pulled up to Courtney’s house.

  There were several cars in the driveway. I parked behind a car that looked like it was being held together by chewing gum and maybe some spit. The thing was so rusted out it looked like it belonged in a garbage heap. It had a college parking sticker in the window, so it must have worked.

  I made my way up to the front door and stomped my feet on the welcome mat as I rang the doorbell. The sound of voices hummed through the door just before it was thrown open. Courtney hopped on one foot, working to zip her boot that stopped just below her knee. “You’re early.”

  “Nope. It’s one minute past three, to be exact,” I said, trying to act cool over the sight of Courtney dressed in tight jeans. The denim hugged all her assets, highlighting them in a way that should have been illegal. The tight pink sweater that strained across her large full breasts was almost my undoing. A clear mental picture of what lay underneath filled my head and was enough to make my mouth go dry. I took the opportunity while her head was down to shift my boys while I still had some control. All I could think was that it was a good thing my coat ran past my waist.

  “Indy, I’m leaving. Do you want me to lock the front door?” Courtney called down the hall.

  “No, Kier is on his way over.”

  “Okay, see you later.” Courtney closed the door, shrugging into a short jacket that stopped at her waist just above her amazing ass. Tonight was going to be like a medieval torture exercise on my body.

  “So, that was one of my roommates,” Courtney commented as I took her elbow to guide her down the icy sidewalk. It was a move Mom had instilled in me when I was ten. Always open the door for a lady, and let her go first. I was unprepared for how I felt touching her. There were at least two layers of clothing separating skin-on-skin contact, but I could still sense the warmth of her arm.

  Courtney looked down at my hand. “Are you afraid I don’t know how to walk?” she asked, although she didn’t pull away.

  “My mom always taught me it was polite to escort a lady over treacherous terrain.”

  “And you think this is treacherous terrain?” She patted the rust bucket of a car when we passed it.

  “Sure. It’s icy and the sidewalk slants slightly. Besides, it gives me a chance to hold on to you so you can’t bolt,” I stated, opening the car door for her. “So, is that your car?” I asked skeptically, climbing behind the wheel of my car.

  “Yeah, that’s Lucy.” She turned to glare at me, clearly challenging me to say something derogatory.

  “Lucy?” I asked playfully, sidestepping the fact that it was a complete piece of junk.

  “Yeah, Lucy. Are guys the only ones allowed to name their vehicles?”

  “Well, no. It’s just, Lucy doesn’t quite seem appropriate for that car.”

  “Maybe not to you. There’s nothing wrong with Lucy. Sure, she’s not as pretty or fancy as some cars, but she’s reliable, and I don’t have to worry about any dings or scratches.”

  “Damn, extract the cl
aws from my ass. I wasn’t criticizing.”

  “Right. Everyone picks on poor Lucy. So, where are you taking me?”

  “Twelve Acres Vineyards.”

  “Nice. That’s not too far away.”

  “Have you been? Wait—do you even like wine? I guess that information would have been vital for me to check on before I made our reservation.”

  She started laughing at my question.

  I couldn’t help smiling with her. She had a great laugh. “What’s so funny?”

  “You asking me if I like wine. My roommates would bust a gut. They call me a wine snob since that’s usually the only alcoholic beverage I drink. Well, besides an occasional shot.”

  “Really? What about beer?”

  “Yuck, I hate beer. The taste and smell make me want to gag.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but you know you work in a sports bar, right? Beer is kind of a staple item at a place like Gruby’s.”

  “I’ve learned to block it out. It’s not like I’m sticking my nose in everyone’s glasses.”

  I chuckled at her explanation. It was sound reasoning.

  “What about you? You don’t exactly look like a sommelier.”

  “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. I am quite gifted at wine tasting and pairing.” I grinned when she looked surprised. Sommelier wasn’t a word that was thrown around much on a college campus. “You’re surprised I know what a sommelier is?” I teased, resting my hand on hers. I expected her to pull away, but she shocked me by turning her hand over and lacing her fingers through mine. It was just holding hands, but it was a step in the right direction.