Page 27 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

“I’m being clear,” I say, my patience gone. “This isn’t happening.”

She pushes back from the table. “Fine. Enjoy mini-golf.”

When she finally leaves, Darnell shudders. “She’s creepy, right?”

“Very.”

“And hopefully,” he adds quietly, “she stays away from Lucy.”

I watch Meredith cross the room before turning back to Darnell. This is exactly why I want to keep things with Lucy quiet. Between my mom and Meredith, it feels like someone’s bound to ruin this before it even gets a chance to be real.

“Speaking of Lucy,” I say, spotting her carrying a box out the side door. “I’ve gotta go.”

“You owe me,” Darnell mutters as I slide out of my chair.

I ignore him and cross the hall, catching the door before it swings shut. Lucy’s already halfway across the parking lot when I catch up.

The side door shuts behind me, cutting the auction noise down to a muffled pulse. Outside, the air is colder than it was before, carrying the smell of leaves and exhaust from the catering van. A row of yellow lights stretches across the nearly empty lot, and our footsteps sound too loud against the pavement. After the heat and noise inside, the quiet feels private, like we’ve stepped outside the rest of the night.

I catch up near the middle of the parking lot, not the least bit concerned that someone might notice I’m gone.

“Let me help you,” I say, slipping the box from her hands.

She laughs softly, and under the parking lot lights, away from the crowd, she looks so much like herself that I forget whatever I meant to say next.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Are you done for the night?” I ask, trying to sound as though following her into the parking lot is perfectly normal.

She shakes her head. “No. We just take things out as we finish using them. Cleanup’s easier that way.”

We reach the catering van, and she swings the back doors open. Trays and supplies are stacked neatly inside.

I slide the box onto the cleared space near the back and step away from the open doors.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Then, Lucy looks up at me like she’s trying to decipher something I haven’t said yet.

“Someone paid a thousand dollars to play miniature golf with you,” she says, amused.

“Darnell and me,” I correct.

She wraps her arms around herself, thoughtful. “People really like you.”

“Most people don’t actually know me,” I say quietly.

“I think you’re more transparent than you realize,” she replies.

“Only with you.”

She exhales. “That whole thing on stage… it was kind of adorable.”

I step closer without thinking. “You think I’m adorable?”

“I—um—” She stumbles, then laughs at herself. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I think you’re pretty adorable, too.”

“You’re not what I expected, Dylan.”