“Where are we?”
“It’s a surprise.” I cross my arms and cock a hip, unwilling to go without some kind of explanation.
“Trust me. I may not know much about you yet, but I know you’re going to love it.”
I can’t say no to his smile, and the smoke breakers around us are starting to stare. Quickly, I grip his hand in mine and let him lead me to a pink door with 213 painted above it. He knocks once, twice, three times, and finally, it flings open.
“Hey, man!” A guy almost as tall as Decker and nearly twice as broad pushes open the door and holds it for us with an outstretched arm, his mop of messy curls flopping with every movement. “Lena. Nice to finally meet you.”
“Finally?” I nudge Decker, and his cheeks actually redden with a veneer of embarrassment. After his football retirement, he may have a future on the big screen. That is, if breaking Ada Lane’s heart didn’t get him blackballed from Hollywood.
“I had to tell him our secret, so he’d give us special treatment today.”
I scrunch my nose at him in a faux-show of disapproval, channeling all the lovesick puppies from my mom and Antonia’s inspo pics today. Decker taps me on the nose delicately with his index finger, and soon our lovers’ quarrel has ended.
“Uh-oh.” Decker’s friend’s gaze locks on something behind me, and I turn just in time to see someone running toward us with a camera, calling my name.
In a split second, Decker’s body is blocking me from their view as he leads us into a storage room. His big friend slams the door and double-checks that it’s locked.
“Thank you…” I search for his name and realize I never learned it.
Decker fills in the gaps for me. “Cole. Plays on our defensive line.”
“Hi, Cole, nice tofinallymeet you.”
He clasps his chest, his eyes dancing from me to Decker. “Finally? You told her about me?”
I don’t wait for Decker to answer because suddenly I’m being steeped in the overwhelming scent of sweet, sweet sugar. “Oh my goodness, where are we? Have I died? Is this heaven? What is that smell?”
Decker’s smile grows. “You’ll see.” He turns to Cole. “Are we good?”
“I’m sure my mom has no problem shutting down for Lena Lux, but I didn’t exactly tell her, so if she says anything, this is your idea.”
“Your mom?” I ask.
Decker leans closer. “This is his mom’s place. She owns it. He just stops in from time to time and hijacks it, apparently.”
Cole bats away the comment. “I’m an investor here.”
Decker swats him in the gut. “And taste tester too, by the looks of it.”
“This is the body of a two-time Pro Bowler. When was the last time you got voted into the Pro Bowl?”
Decker shakes his head, lost for a response. Something tells me this is their normal rapport, but I still make a mental note to look into the Pro Bowl and whether there’s anything I can doto help him participate since—from what I’m gathering—it’s a coveted event, at least for these two.
Cole smiles slyly, glad his jab landed as well as Decker’s had. “Maybe someday you’ll get voted in to do it too. I’m sure Lena’s fan base will have no problem spamming the polls ‘til they get you in. Unless you break her heart.”
I grab his bicep, running my hand down his arm until our fingers entwine. “Not gonna happen.”
Decker looks down at me, his lips smoothing into a soft smile.
“Enough of the googly eyes. I’m still here.” Cole turns and leads us to another pink door. “Well, the whole place is yours for the next fifteen, so better make it a quickie.”
Decker shakes his head but wastes no time pulling me past Cole and through the pink door to what I now realize is acandy shop.The walls are striped with creamy yellow and powder blue. I feel a little like I’ve walked into a nursery, but something about it works with the pops of pink. It’s warm and fun, and I’m absolutely giddy to be surrounded by rows upon rows of sugary goodness. Staring up at the cheesy, lollipop-shaped light fixtures, I let Decker lead. When the silence stretches on for too long, my eyes drop from the ceiling to him. He shuffles along, brows crinkled as he reads the tiny labels and examines each case. It’s cute how focused he is on finding whatever it is he’s looking for. When he freezes two steps later, I have to backpedal so I don’t slam into his rear.
Decker gestures toward an acrylic box, smiling like he’s won some grand prize. “I thought we could start here.”
My jaw drops when I realize it’s stuffed to the brim with multicolored, sugar-coated gummy worms. “You remembered my favorite candy?”
