Face heating from the compliment, I nodded even though if our positions had been reversed, I was pretty sure I would be unable to do anything but dwell on the pressures. “I get that. But if you want to, I don’t know, make a list later of your options, I could help.”
“Thanks.” Our eyes caught and held, and without waiting for my brain’s permission, my hand traveled to his arm, gave him what I hoped was a reassuring squeeze. His bicep was firm and solid, and my hand lingered far longer than advisable.
“I mean it. Winging it by putting everything on this win… That’s simply not prudent.”
“Not prudent?” Conrad laughed, and I quickly dropped my hand. “Uh, dude, don’t look now, but aren’t you doing the same thing? What’s your backup plan?”
Crap. He was right. I was in a similar predicament, wanting the tournament to give me direction, to solve my dilemma over the future for me. I bit my lip. Hard.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “My moms have all sorts of ideas, but…coming up with a plan is hard. It’s like…everything feels second best. Choices I don’t want to make.”
“Exactly.” He gave me a fist bump, which landed on my wrist because I didn’t know it was coming. I flinched, making him laugh. And even that glancing contact was enough to have my skin sizzling again. I was utterly hopeless.
“I wish it were easier.” I didn’t just mean life and coming up with a plan, but also this, making sense of all this weird energy that had been building all day.
“Welcome to the Plan B Sucks club. Not finishing out at Gracehaven feels like admitting defeat. At least winning the tournament would be something. It’s the first thing that’s made sense since this whole mess started. First thing I’ve wanted other than to go back to Gracehaven and have things be exactly how they were.”
“I get that,” I said softly because I truly did. It just utterly sucked that we both wanted the same thing, needed it even. He laid his hand on top of mine. Not a fist bump this time. More of a squeeze. An understanding. And this time, my skin didn’t sizzle as much as melt, softening into the contact, welcoming his touch every bit as much as his sympathy.
“I’m sorry medical school didn’t work out.” His eyes were as warm as his voice. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that, but something about his tone made my chest contract with emotions I’d rather not try to name.
Our eyes met again, the energy surging in a way I didn’t quite understand, but definitely didn’t want to end. It felt as if I could look into his lake-blue eyes for years and still not see all his depths. They darkened, like they had back at the pizza place, making me wonder what he saw in my own gaze. Whatever it was, it must have pleased him because he hissed out a breath, the sort of sound I associated with uncovering a treasure in a game.
“Thanks.” My tongue felt twice as thick as normal, and I had no idea whether I was thankful for his empathy or thankful for this weird, wonderful moment. I still didn’t drop our eye lock, and it was impossible to miss the way his eyes flashed with purpose, as though he’d solved some vital equation.
He leaned in, and as with the fist bump, I didn’t quite know what was coming, what he expected me to do, couldn’t figure out how to react fast enough, and I recoiled right as my phone buzzed.
Conrad jerked away, out of my personal space, out of whatever moment we’d been having there. “Better get that. It’s probably the car.”
“Yeah.” My shoulders slumped, chest as hollow as it got after a bad loss in the game—only I wasn’t sure what I’d lost this time. I only knew that it was significant.
Chapter Nineteen
Conrad
I almost kissed Alden. And the worst part was that I wasn’t sure whether he knew it. Had he pulled back because his phone buzzed? Or because I spooked him? Was that a distinct ew in his eyes? Maybe he didn’t want his first kiss to be some lame guy who had just confessed to being a few steps away from homelessness. I was merely guessing about the first-kiss part, but it wasn’t that big a leap from “I’m a virgin” to “never been kissed.” And it was also entirely possible that I’d confused him. Maybe he didn’t read my intent at all and was neither frightened nor repelled but rather irritated at the invasion of his personal space.
Not knowing plagued me as we made the trek back to Mary’s garage. The car had been ready, and once we petted the dog and parted with two hundred bucks, we were back on the road. It was already late afternoon, heading into evening, and we hit a ton of traffic as we approached Kansas City, slowing us to a crawl. Alden was driving, which left me to navigate to our intended stop at a downtown game store.
“F—heck.” I looked up from studying the map on Alden’s phone to see more bumper-to-bumper cars jockeying for rush-hour positioning. I had no idea when I’d started reining in the f-bombs around Alden, when his comfort started mattering to me, and I wasn’t entirely sure I liked this turn of events. “Professor Tuttle would have to be friends with the one game shop in the area that closes at six.”
“Six?” Alden’s forehead creased. “I thought all gaming places had evening hours. Where else are people going to play?”
“Apparently they only stay open until nine on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.”
“We’re not going to make six.” Alden gestured toward the barely moving traffic that stretched as far as we could see. “Call them?”
“Okay to use your phone? I think you have a better signal.” And he undoubtedly had more minutes available than me, but I didn’t add that part.
“Sure.”
This left me to deal with a rather irate owner, who didn’t want to wait for us.
“You said you’d be here sometime after lunch,” he complained. His deep, midwestern voice reminded me of my dad—and not in a great way. “I’ve got to get my son soon. First, you cancel on bringing Gamer Grandpa, and now you two kids can’t keep to a schedule.”
“We’re sorry, sir. We had a tire blow, and now we’re stuck in traffic. We didn’t expect this kind of delay.”
“Well, I didn’t expect this much hassle either. You’re a small-time vlog, and I’m doing you a favor, not the other way around.”
I wasn’t sure how Professor Tuttle knew this jerk, but I kept my tone even. “Actually—”
“You know what, forget it. I’ve got to get to my kid’s baseball practice, and I don’t have time for this.”
“Fuck.” After I ended the call, I went ahead and dropped the f-bomb, Alden’s sensibilities be damned. “There goes that stop.”
“From the sound of it, we’re better off for it,” Alden said pragmatically. “Maybe we can figure out some content for the show to make up for not getting that stop.”
“Yeah. We can always play each other.” I was strangely reluctant to play Alden again, to undo all the progress we’d made that day toward something…well, maybe not exactly friendship. I didn’t generally go around getting the urge to kiss my friends’ necks. But something. More than rivals.
“Or open the packs from that cosplaying owner.”
“Oh. Yeah! Dibs on anything good.” I grinned over at him, liking that suggestion far more. Traffic was finally moving, so his eyes were on the road, but his mouth curved as if he’d sensed my shift in mood.
“Do you want to stop for dinner?” he asked as we continued to fight clogged roads. “I’ve never understood the barbecue thing, but just pick somewhere with decent parking.”
“My only requirement is cheap, but if you’ve never tried good barbecue, you’re missing out.” I used his phone to search possibilities. “Okay, I found a little place that’s pretty inexpensive but locals rate it highly. They’ve got smoked chicken for you—it’s not all pork. And supercheap BBQ street tacos as the Tuesday special for me.”
“Barbecue tacos?” Alden sounded as horrified as he had by the concept of square pizza.
“No fusion cuisine for you.�
�� I laughed. “Do I need to look for the kosher symbol for the chicken? I’m not seeing it, but it seems like a no-frills sort of place. They might not have precise ingredient labeling.”
“I’m good. Just no barbecue sauce in a taco.” He shuddered, ten kinds of adorable and all the temptation that I couldn’t let get to me.
I’d been right about no-frills. The restaurant was a low-slung brick-and-wood building that looked like it might not survive a thorough fire code inspection, and the interior was similarly humble—long tables with red-and-white-checked plastic covers for communal eating, walls cluttered with pictures and memorabilia, and a small stage off to one side where a blues duo played. No cover because it was a weeknight, thank goodness.
We both got carded at the door, but I had a feeling Alden would have opinions and thoughts on a beer with dinner since I was next to drive, so I didn’t go there, instead getting the cheap tacos and water to save my cash. Alden got the half-chicken dinner with the apparently famous battered fries and coleslaw. He ended up sharing both the fries and the meat with me.
“Ordered too much again?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, not really complaining. I didn’t want to be his charity case, but I also wasn’t stupid enough to turn down free food.
“Something like that.” He at least had the decency to blush. The sultry live music, combined with sharing food, had this evening feeling rather date-like, but right as I started to feel like we were in a cozy bubble, a fry came whizzing by my head. Oops. I’d forgotten that we were at the end of one of the long communal tables, sharing space with two noisy families. My head whirled, trying to figure out where the fry had come from.
A group of kids who looked around ten years old were having the sort of fry-and-straw wrapper fight that reminded me of camp and family reunions, antics with my cousins. Beyond the tweens, three young teen girls trading selfies made me think of my sisters, and I fingered my phone in my pocket, wishing for one of Cassie’s erratic sneak-texts, missing the days when they’d been able to blow my phone up with silly pictures of friends and dance class.
I must have let my smile slip because Alden frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just missing my little sisters.”
“You don’t…ah… They’re not allowed…”
God, I hated sharing this, but I also wasn’t going to lie. “Yeah.”
“Like at all?”
“I’m a forbidden topic apparently, and Dad threatened to take their phones if they kept texting me.”
“That sucks.” Alden’s voice had the same sympathy he’d had for Jasper’s family situation, and the outrage in his eyes made it easier to keep talking.
“The oldest one, Cassie, sometimes sneak-texts me from a friend’s phone. She’s watched the show some too.”
“That’s cool that she watches. My older sisters think the game is stupid. I can’t imagine not being allowed to contact them though. That would suck.”
“Yeah. It does.” Exhaling hard, I picked at the last of the chicken he’d given me. “Ready to go?”
“Yes. We better push on a few more hours.” As he consulted his phone, his mouth twisted. “We were supposed to make it farther through Kansas tonight. We’ve got a stop tomorrow in Denver if we can make it.”
“We’ll make it. Just keep me awake, and we can do Salina tonight at least. And you won’t be missing much—the scenery gets flat and boring after Topeka.”
When we exited the restaurant, night had fallen, a warm, muggy evening greeting us with a sliver of moon and the mingled scents of barbecue and roses.
“Think we’ll be far enough into Colorado tomorrow to really see the stars?” Alden asked. “I’ve heard that you can see a lot more stars out west, away from the cities.”
“Yeah. You can. I’ll make sure we get some stars for you.”
“Thanks.” The gratitude in his eyes warmed me through as I slid behind the wheel. Doing nice things for him was simply too easy. Felt too good. And to be able to make someone else happy with merely the promise of some stargazing? Yeah, that was heady stuff.
“Did you like space stuff as a kid?” I asked as I headed back to the highway. “I always wanted a rocket ship. My grandpa taught me all the constellations, but I was always more concerned with discovering alien worlds.”
That made him laugh. “I wasn’t so much on intergalactic travel. Fear of flying, remember? But I loved space stuff. I had this amazing fourth-grade teacher who let me write a whole essay on why Pluto should be reclassified as a planet again.”
“That’s awesome.” We spent the first part of the drive talking science classes and favorite teachers, and Alden warmed to the topic, his fondness for particular teachers coming through even though the distance he’d felt from peers was also clear.
Distracted by a particularly funny story about Alden’s pre-algebra class, my pulse barely jumped as we passed the “Welcome to Kansas” signs at the border. But after we passed Topeka and the highway turned achingly familiar, each exit a memory, my muscles tensed one by one. And to make matters worse, I kept yawning. Apparently my body had decided escaping to sleep might be preferable to this onslaught of emotions.
“What’s wrong?” Alden asked.
“Nothing. Maybe we’ll stop in Salina for coffee or an energy drink or something.” I needed to get through this stretch as quickly as possible.
“No. We’ll stop sooner. You keep blinking. Coffee now. And I’ll take a turn driving.”
The blinking wasn’t entirely tiredness, but I didn’t want to explain, so I nodded and started looking for an exit. “We could probably use gas anyway.”
We ended up at a truck stop, getting gas before going inside where I tried to decide between a pricey energy drink and cheap coffee. Cheap won out, but I added a ton of powdered creamer and sugar and grabbed some granola bars to chase it with. I’d been tempted by the candy, but Alden’s prodding about the quality of my diet had me making the healthier choice.
As we paid, a family came in, sleepy little girl in her dad’s arms, older boy holding his hand. Something about the way the boy gazed up at his dad made a memory slap into me, so hard I almost gasped.
I’d been nine. Maybe ten. We’d been on the way back from some football scouting trip, back when he took me along all the time. And maybe it had been him trying to get me into the game, but to me, it had been…magical almost, that time together, long hours on the road, away from Mom and the girls who were just toddlers back then. Dad had been laughing, letting me load up on soda and candy, telling me how good I’d been at the game while he took notes. Back then, his praise had been easy and free, long before I started disappointing him at every turn.
Back in the present, my adult self struggled to see beyond the ghosts, feet rooted to the spot.
“I’m hungry,” the boy said. His T-shirt was faded, two sizes too small, sneakers more battered than even my own. The dad’s ancient work boots weren’t much better, and his jeans looked like they were about three washes away from disintegrating.
“You’re always hungry.” The father yawned, eyes filled with the same weariness I’d seen in my own mirror a lot the past year. “And we’re only here to use the restroom. We don’t have money for anything extra. You know that.”
The boy’s face fell, the kind of crumple that preceded a major tantrum, and without overthinking it, I stepped forward, addressing the dad.
“Hey, sir? I happened to buy extra.” I held out two granola bars. “Think I could give some to your kids?”
“We don’t need—”
“Please,” the boy whined, eyes pleading with his dad.
“Okay.” The dad sounded defeated, the sort of worn out that came with long days of worry. I knew that sound well. “If you’re sure?”
“Yeah. Big dinner, and I don’t need more snacks anyway.” I passed him over the food.
�
�I’ve got an extra juice.” Handing over a container, Alden gave me a searching look.
“Thank you, guys. Really.” The guy nodded at us. “God bless.”
“You too. Have a good night.” I had to swallow hard, and when we got back to the car, I slumped into the passenger seat, head falling back. I’d put my coffee in the cup holder, but I knew I wouldn’t be touching it now.
“What’s wrong?” Alden frowned at me as he turned the car on. “Do you want to go back in? Get more food for you? That was a nice thing you did.”
“It was nothing. And I’m good.” My breathing like a freight train said otherwise, and I knew I needed to calm down if I didn’t want to have to dig an inhaler out of my bag. It had been years since I’d had a situational-triggered asthma attack, but I could feel one teasing at the edges of my awareness.
“No, you’re not. Tell me.” Alden’s usual bossiness was mixed with a gentleness I didn’t usually associate with him, and it was that quiet kindness that made me start talking as he headed back to the highway.
“I’d been there before.” My voice came out ragged. “That truck stop. As a kid. With my dad. Probably more than once.”
“Oh.” Alden made a noise that was halfway between surprise and understanding. “Conrad, are we close to your town?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you want to stop? You could try texting—”
“Wouldn’t help. And I don’t want to get Cassie in trouble.”
“But your mom,” he persisted. “Maybe if you call? We could go ahead and stop for the night. Maybe in the morning, you could—”
“No.” This was why I hadn’t told him how close we’d be coming to my hometown. I’d known I’d get both pity and advice I didn’t need. “She follows Dad’s lead. Always has. Gets panic attacks when they fight, especially when he yells.”
Conventionally Yours (True Colors) Page 15
