*****
“Do youremember Popples?” Leland asks suddenly.
We’vejust been served the entrée portion of dinner. For the past halfhour, Leland has randomly mentionedFraggle Rock—“Not that I watched it;I was more of aMuppet Babiesguy myself, but ‘Fraggle Rock’ is fun to say,isn’t it?”—along with Pound Puppies, Rainbow Brite, and AstroBoy.
“Mysister was obsessed,” he continues without giving me a chance torespond. “She had Popples books, posters, a t-shirt, and even asleeping bag. I mean, that was nothing compared to her boy bandphase a few years later. I much preferred walking into her room andhaving a bunch of Popples stare back at me than all the scowlyteenage boys.”
“Areyou drunk?” I ask, glancing at his half-full glass ofbeer.
“No,Stella, I’m not drunk.” He delivers the words in a deadpan tone. “Iam the walrus.” He leans in, his breath tickling my face as hewhispers, “Coo-coo-ca-choo.”
I’ve managed tostifle my laughter through the last half hour of Leland’s unhingedramblings, but I can’t do it any longer. Giggles spill out of meuntil tears spring to my eyes. Leland chuckles softly beside me,his hand planted on the center of my back.
“Whaton earth has gotten into you?” I ask.
His gaze slidesacross the table, and I follow it to see Nelle watching us. Forsome inexplicable reason, she’s barely spoken a word to us since wearrived. That hasn’t stopped her from watching us, though, whichshe’s doing again now, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Leland leansforward to recapture my attention. “Felicity has been talking abouta retro toy line for the store. Stuff from the ’60s through the’90s. You have to admit, it’s been a good distraction.” He nudgesme gently with his elbow. “And besides, I like seeing you try notto laugh and then lose it to the point you have troublestopping.”
I’ve never wantedto kiss someone so badly. Leland’s silliness has been for mybenefit, and it’s worked. I feel steadier and my heart rate hasmostly returned to normal. I can’t help but think the slightelevation in its natural rhythm is no longer caused by nerves, butrather the proximity and thoughtfulness of the gorgeous man besideme.
“Thankyou,” I say, hoping he understands it’s a blanket sentiment. Hissmile softens and he nods, his hand slipping from my back so he canreturn to his meal. I do the same.
“Whatare all the colorful streaks on your hand?” he asks after awhile.
I’ve been tryingto keep my right hand hidden in my lap all night, but that’simpossible to do while I eat. Those markers Evie bought yesterdaydidn’t exactly live up to the promise of being washable, and I nowlook like a child who’s gotten into the art supplies.
“It’smarker,” I murmur. “Evie and I were…coloring yesterday.”
I’m not sure whatkind of reaction I expect, but it’s not the simple nod he gives.“Oh. That sounds like fun. I thought maybe it was some new trend Iwasn’t aware of. Like temporary tattoos of some sort.”
As I laugh againand a pleased smile blossoms on Leland’s face, the room narrowsdown to just the two of us. It doesn’t matter that Nelle is sittingacross the table. It doesn’t matter that this thing between Lelandand me started out as an act. This isn’t an act. Part of my braintries to convince me otherwise, but there’s no faking the genuineaffection growing between us. Even if, in Leland’s case, it’s onlythe kind of affection that comes from friendship.
*****
The room fillswith applause, and I swear my clapping is the loudest of all.Leland has just delivered a moving speech in Coach Black’s honor,talking about how the man was both mentor and friend, tough and yetsoft when necessary, and how he led by example with his kindness,passion, and hard work.
From the stage,Leland makes a beeline for Coach Black’s table, where he embracesthe older man and talks to him for several minutes. Normally, thenext speech would begin immediately, but they’re spacing them outso people have a chance to mingle in between. As soon as Lelandmoves away from Coach, other people hop up from their seats toshake his hand, clap him on the back, and engage him inconversation. This night is going to be endless.
When Lelandfinally makes it back to our table, he flops into his chair andreleases a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “I’m gladthat’s over with. How’d I do?”
“Youwere fantastic. I recorded the whole thing for your mom andsister.” And myself, as something to remember this strange andwonderful night when Leland and I go back to being justfriends.
He flashes me aquick grin. “Great. Are you ready to get out of here?”
“Butthere are more speeches. And dancing. And I heard something about adessert table later?”
“Yes,all of that is still to come. Does that mean you want tostay?”
“No,but I don’t wantyouto miss any of it. Your old classmates and teammates haveclearly loved seeing you, so I’d hate to pull you away. Plus I’msure Coach wants to talk to you more.”
“I metup with Coach one day last week for lunch and we made plans tocatch a game together someday soon,” Leland says. “But if you wantto listen to another hour of speeches and mingle with all thesepeople…”
“No,” Isay quickly. “I mean, only if you do. I don’t want you to think youhave to orshouldleave early because of me. I promise I’m willing to stay forthe whole thing.”
“Iappreciate that.” He glances around again and then leans closer tome, beckoning me forward and dropping his voice. “I’ll let you inon a little secret. When I thought I’d be coming alone, I plannedto leave right after my speech. I actually wasn’t even sure if I’dcome for the dinner portion. Having you here has made it bearable,but I’d honestly rather leave than stay. We’d still have time tocatch a late movie if you wanted. I’d buy you whatever candy youlike to make up for missing the dessert table.”
I laugh under mybreath. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
