The bartender raps his knuckles against the bar top. “If you need anything, wave me down.” And just like that, our sports talk is over. I’ve had a lot of crazy conversations, but that one…it popped out of nowhere and ended just as abruptly.
Sipping on my drink, the events of the day flash through my mind. The only one that stands out is Serena’s hand wrapped around the paper with my phone number. Either she’ll call, or she won’t. If she doesn’t, that’ll be my sign that I need to give up my farce. I already booked my flights for the next few weeks, and they all happen to have her working them. If it doesn’t work out in my favor, I’ll play it off as wanting to make sure I get to my games early. It's not a total lie. I like arriving for the games well in advance. It gives me a chance to get in the right mental space and prepare myself for success. Or at least give me more of the coach’s approval. If there’s one person I’ve always looked up to, it’s whoever is coaching the team I’m on. It could be because they are like a father-figure to me since I didn’t have one growing up. Who knows? But their thoughts of me are part of what fuels me.
I pull my wallet out of my pocket and throw some bills on the bar. This is turning into a woe is me pity party, and it’s something that should not be done in public. A yawn escapes my lips, and that’s the next signal that I need to go up to my room.
Halfway across the lobby, my phone dings and my heart skips. It’s either Serena or Jordan. I’m hoping for the former, but it’s most likely the latter. Sliding the phone out of my pocket, I check the screen. Unknown number. Hmm, it’s definitely not Jordan. I open up the screen and grin.
* * *
Unknown: I guess I’ll go out on a date with you.
Bentley: Don’t make it sound like I twisted your arm.
* * *
I take a moment to save the phone number to my phone. Now I have a way to get a hold of her directly.
* * *
Serena: You kind of did. But I’m free until around lunch on Sunday.
Bentley: Lunch tomorrow?
Serena: Sure.
Bentley: Just tell me where and I’ll be there.
Serena: Let me see what’s in this town and I’ll let you know in the morning.
Bentley: Sounds good. Goodnight Serena.
* * *
She doesn’t respond, but I know she’s interested now, and that’s all that matters. So much for Jordan's words of wisdom on the ride over from the stadium. He and Vanessa are practically high school sweethearts. How would he know what works in the dating world?
The text from Serena is all I needed to give me a boost of energy. I don’t know if I’ll go to bed for different reasons now. I know nothing about Chicago and foresee the rest of the night spent on google searching for things to do. But first, I need to text Jordan.
* * *
Bentley: Slight change of plans for tomorrow. I can hang out until lunch. Then I have a date.
Jordan: Did you pick up a girl from the bar?
Bentley: Nope. SHE texted me.
Jordan: Cool. Can I go back to sleep now?
Bentley: Sure, old man.
* * *
The middle finger emoji is all that shows up when he texts me back. I’m doing this skip walk thing as I head toward the elevators. There’s nothing in the world that can wipe the smile off my face. Tomorrow will be epic.
Eight
Serena
I can’t believe I’m doing this. What sane woman, who has sworn off men, agrees to a date with a guy they don’t even know if they actually like? Oh, that’s right…me. What does one even wear to a lunch date? It’s been so long since I’ve had to get dressed for an actual date. With Braxton, things were different. We shed out of our uniforms and jumped straight into bed. No outings or formal dates. That should have been my first clue he wasn’t as serious about me as I was about him.
