“Totally,” Tony agrees and turns back to his meal prep.
I roll my eyes. Tony wasn’t paying attention. There are days I think he’s lost entirely in his own world. We’re invaders in that world.
“You’re hoping for a four-day date, aren’t you?” Celeste asks as she steps away from the register. The lull won’t last long, but it’s nice to catch our breath for a second.
“Dylan,” I call as I set down the drink I was working on and turn to my coworkers. “Obviously.”
I could play it up that I took the days off for personal reasons, because Peyton isn’t wrong. I work a lot. I hate boredom, and I like money. This seems like the best solution to both problems. But yeah, I’m kind of hoping we hit it off on this date.
When I heard about the athlete date auction, I was fucking pumped. I knew I’d max out the damn emergency credit card my parents gave me if I needed to as soon as I saw his name on the list. I may have his little trading card like each participant made to ‘sell’ themselves in my wallet.
That I won’t admit to anyone, though. It’s probably a little too obsessive than what should be shared out loud.
Celeste grabs my forearm to stop me from cleaning. I meet her eyes. “This is your chance, Dana. Make sure you make the most of it. Talk to him.”
Oh yeah, I’m not fooling a fucking soul. At least not anyone I’m working with. Awesome.
CHAPTER 3
PEYTON
I chose kayaking as my auctionable date because it’s a favorite pastime from my childhood. My family used to vacation at the Finger Lakes in upstate New York, and I’d spend every free minute on the water in a kayak.
To make the date more appealing, I added a ‘romantic’ element to it and found a local restaurant to donate a decked-out picnic lunch. In the mountain valley an hour away is an enormous lake. It’s so big that there are a handful of small islands.
I’m not big into dating. I’m not even big into hookups. So I thought if I made the date something I’d find enjoyable, then at least the person bidding on the date would have something in common with me. It makes sense. Why bid on a date if you hate the date?
I get up early on Friday so I can run the few errands I need to in preparation for meeting my date mid-morning. The plan is that I’ll grab them just after ten outside the Queer Palace Café and we’ll drive the hour or so to the lake and spend the day kayaking. Depending on how well we get along, it might be a long day.
I stop at the outdoorsman store to pick up the kayak and safety gear and shit that they’re donating (to borrow) for the long weekend. It includes a top-of-the-line double-seater kayak, helmets, life jackets, a first aid kit, and an emergency kit. The entire package would rent for roughly $800 for the four days, so it’s really cool that they donated it for the cause.
The restaurant is donating a deluxe lunch in a large, insulated tote to keep anything from baking in the sun. Once everything is loaded into my truck, I meander around town for a while, so I’m not too early.
I’m bummed. I had so many damn daydreams about this trip with Coach Lemon. Part of me knew it wasn’t going to happen. I even told myself over and over again that it wasn’t going to happen.
But then he stepped into the auction tent right before I was up for bid, and I thought maybe the stars were aligning. It was difficult not to get my hopes up.
It shouldn’t have felt like a rejection, but it sure as fuck does. Almost two weeks later, and it still feels like a rejection.
Nope. This weekend isn’t about Coach Lemon. I need to let that go. I need to concentrate on forgetting football and everything related to it for the weekend. Maybe let go of a dream that was obviously never going to happen.
I drive back to campus and pull up along the sidewalk in front of the Queer Palace Café. The café entrance is about a hundred feet from the sidewalk, with a well-manicured path and surrounded by lush grass, picnic tables, and Adirondack chairs. Even at almost ten on a long weekend, there are people milling about.
Shutting the engine off, I step out of my truck and lean against the hood to wait. The barista from the café is sitting at a picnic table close by, just getting to his feet and coming toward me. I smile. “Hey, hot stuff,” I greet, offering him my hand.
He smiles. “Hey.” He grabs my hand for a second, and then his drops to his side.
We’re left standing there for a second. He adjusts his weight as he looks at me. Is he nervous? He pulls something out of his pocket and offers it to me.
I grin, amused. “Are you passing me a note?” I tease.
His smile is shy. It’s kinda cute. When I look at the piece of paper, I find a receipt. It takes me a minute to find the little note that reads:
Date Auction purchase – Peyton Brady/Football; kayaking picnic
I meet his eyes again. “Dana?”
He inclines his head. “Yeah.”
