He looks down into my eyes and chuckles. “Something like that.”
“Well, what is it you do here? What is your sport?”
“I play football,” he says proudly.
My eyes drift down to his broad chest and shoulders. “Well, now that makes sense. What do you do on the football diamond?”
Alex laughs. “You mean field? The football field?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s what I meant.”
“I’m a tight end.”
This makes me giggle. I’m tempted to ask him to turnaround so I can see if he’s got what it takes. Instead, there’s a rather lengthy silence. Am I supposed to know what a tight end does? Maybe Alex is waiting for me to comment, because he’s just staring at me now. “I think I hear crickets.”
Alex belts out a laugh like he’s surprised I said something funny.I can be funny. He’s got a great laugh. It makes my stomach flutter.
“Sorry, I was waiting for your next question. You know, something like, ‘Alex, what is a tight end?’ Then my answer would have been, ‘Well, Stella, it’s the hardest and best position to play on the football diamond.’” He gives me the cutest smirk, and I want to swoon. “Seriously, it’s okay; I’ll tell you. My position as tight end is on offense. I help protect the quarterback by blocking players from getting to him, but I also catch the ball like a wide receiver.”
I blink. That’s a lot of information about football in a short amount of time. I literally know nothing about football. I probably should have learned something from my dad, but I tend to tune him out when he’s yelling at the television. So, I keep looking at him, nodding like I understand what the heck he’s saying. It’s interesting to watch because he’s so animated. It’s obvious that he’s passionate about his sport. Not to mention the fact that he’s easy on the eyes. I could probably look at him forever and never get tired of the view. Deciding to admit my lack of football knowledge, I say, “Well, it’s a little confusing. I guess I’ll have to google it. Or do they haveFootball for Idiotsavailable at the bookstore?”
“I think there’s an app for it.” He laughs. His voice is rich and deep. His laugh is even better.
Entering the cafeteria, it happens again. Students part to let Alex pass. I’m staying close since I’ve no idea how any of this works. I look away from Alex to take in the famous cafeteria. Holy crap, it’s packed with people, and it’s huge. There must be fifty tables in the place, all various sizes. I’m notsurprised when I notice all eyes have turned to look at Alex and, unfortunately, at me. It makes me feel self-conscious right away. My legs feel wobbly, and sweat appears on my forehead. He reaches down and takes my hand in his, making a sense of calm fall over me. How did he know?
His hand is warm and callused, probably from football, but I like it. It makes him real. He leads me to the entrance to all the different food areas. He explains how it’s set up. “It’s arranged by food groups, like soup and salad, main dishes, side dishes, then desserts, and so on.”
I nod as I leave his side to look around at all of my choices. Everything smells delicious, and there’s so many choices. On a normal day, I’d probably want one of everything, but honestly, I’m not that hungry. I wasn’t making that up. I guess a breakup does that to you. Maybe I’ll lose some weight over all of this. That’d sure make my mom happy.
Not only that, I’m not excited about eating in front of Alex. I mean, I know he can tell that I like to eat, but I don’t want him to actuallyseeme doing it. So, my solution to that is to only get a salad. I take a small plate and place a few carrots, some green peppers, and some chopped lettuce on it without dressing. Mom would be appalled if I used anything besides lemon juice on my salad anyway. Damn, she’s over an hour away and I can still hear her diet advice. Next I check out the soup station. Nope, it has the potential to be too messy, and I don’t want to make any strange slurping sounds and draw unwanted attention to myself. I guess it’s too late for that since I’ve got a guy the size of the Hulk next to me.
Leaning over me, Alex grumbles as he points to my plate. “What the hell is that?”
I look up at him, startled. “What do you mean?”
“Are you a vegetarian or something?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, you need to eat more than rabbit food.”
“I told you I’m not very hungry,” I whisper, feeling embarrassed. I take the opportunity to look at his tray. It’s heaping with food from every station. It appears he’s grabbed one of everything. Wow! What would that be like, to be able to eat anything you wanted? A girl can dream, can’t she? It doesn’t hurt that he probably burns about 10,000 calories at football practice every night.
“Well, if you aren’t going to eat much, make what you eat count. Come on, there’s pizza over here. If you get one with vegetables on it, you’ve covered most of the food groups.” He smirks.
“Alex, I don’t want pizza. It’s not good for me. Do you know how many calories are in a slice of pizza?”
“Yeah, I do.”
I don’t want to stand here arguing with him. People are still watching. I place the pizza slice on my plate. Next Alex shows me where the ice cream machines are.
“I’m not getting both pizza and ice cream!”
“Why not?”
“Well, do you know how many calories?—”
“Yes, I know the calorie count, but ice cream will make you feel better. It’s a scientific fact that if you eat ice cream when you’re sad, the sadness disappears. It’s true. I’m talking science here.” He’s giving me that toothy grin I’m starting to crave. “Besides, I won’t take no for an answer; I’m getting you ice cream. Stop arguing with me. I’m Alex Emerson, star tight end of the Northwestern Wildcats. Don’t you know who I am?”
