“Right, right.” Maverick gives Willow the typical once over that guys give a good-looking girl. “So who’s this?”
I’m not sure where we stand on our cover story because of Willow’s new reluctance about Aaron now, so I keep things brief.
“This is Willow, nursing major and tutoring extraordinaire. Willow, this is Maverick, the National Hockey League’s next star.”
“Cool to meet you,” Maverick says.
When Willow smiles brightly in response to the six foot four, viking looking motherfucker, my back stiffens. I want that smile just for me. Why does she have to share it with every Tom, Dick, and Harry on campus?
“Nice to meet you too,” she practically coos.
Maverick picks up on the vibes and snickers, then promptly excuses himself.
“Have a nice skate,” he tells us, but he speaks mostly to Willow just to fuck with me. “Any friend of Freak’s is a friend of mine.”
“Uh, thanks. Bye.”
“Are you blushing?” I ask with disbelief once he’s out of earshot.
“No!”
“I thought you said you didn’t know anything about sports?”
“I don’t.”
“But you clearly recognized him. You couldn’t seem to string two words together.”
“I’ve never seen him before in my life. I just don’t know how to react when you introduce me to people as if I’m someone for them to remember. I feel like a bit of a fraud.”
“I didn’t come outright and say you were my girlfriend. I left that open to interpretation. You’re not a fraud.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“It wasn’t necessary to tell him. Who you are is none of Maverick’s business. I was just being polite. Why? Did you want me to tell him that? I get it if you did. Being my girl has its perks,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
“I just… I mean, you have a reputation.”
“Should I be offended by that?” I smile cautiously. “Or delighted?”
“What I’m trying to say, albeit not eloquently, is that you don’t date girls. You sleep with them, right?”
“And where did you hear that?”
“Just around.”
“Do you believe that I’m the type of guy to misuse a girl?”
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it, Freak. The girls are obviously willing participants. I saw plenty of it at the party the other night. It’s just that I don’t want people thinking that about me.”
“You don’t want people thinking that you’re just some random chick I may or may not be fucking.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ve never come to the rink with a girl and tonight the two of us are ice skating hand in hand for dozens of witnesses to see. This looks very much like a date to anyone who knows me, so I think your reputation is intact.”
“Okay.” She sounds relieved. “Maybe you’re right. I could be overthinking this whole thing.”
Several more people speak to me as we wait to rent Willow’s skates, and the introductions I make continue to make her uncomfortable. It’s either that or she’s afraid to get on ice skates.
