Page 70 of Lavender and Linebackers

“Why? What’s wrong?” He looks me over from head to toe to see if something is wrong.

“You were right. People are watching us.”

His eyes sharpen just before he looks up and scans the people closest to us. I’m certain he sees what I see. “It actually makes me mad. We’re only doing what they’ve asked of us.”

“Do you think we look too chummy? Should we somehow make ourselves look more professional? Should I yell at you for old times’ sake?”

He scoffs. “Got me, but I do think we’ve been here long enough.” He takes a breath and then looks sincerely at me, almost to the point where he is worried about how I might answer. “Can I drive you home?”

I roll my lips between my teeth to keep them from stretching from ear to ear. He’s not worried. He’s nervous, and I love it. I love that I make him nervous. That he still feels enough for me, that it’s not only anger but also something else.

“Yes.”

One by one, we sneak out of the event. He leaves first to make sure the truck is unlocked and cool by the time I get there. This is the first time since we reconnected that I feel like we’re picking up our friendship where we left off. Instead of feeling trepidation sitting in this familiar seat, I feel tranquil joy. I feel content and free from all the things that weighed me down before.

“Can you believe this is our last event? I thought this day would never come.”

I glance over at him, and his eyebrows pull down.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that I’m glad we’re no longer beholden to them. While I have enjoyed the extra money and the exposure for the Mighty Monarchs, I feel relieved that the commitment to the organization is over. I was constantly worried that I was going to do something to mess it up and make them not pleased with me. Do something wrong.”

He pulls out of the stadium parking lot and heads south.

“Right. It also occurred to me earlier that this was the last one.” His hand grips the wheel as he leans over to turn on some music. I’m stuck on his hands. Were they always that large? And then I let my mind drift to what that might mean: big hands and big feet. I jerk my head and look out the front of the window before I find myself looking at other places.

“Aren’t you happy? You got nothing out of this, and now you can focus on football.”

“I wouldn’t say I got nothing,” he says slowly, looking over at me. I can feel his eyes sliding over me. “Some unexpected things came out of it.”

Am I the unexpected thing?

Suddenly, I don’t feel joy. I feel all the things. That smile I had been trying to hide, I don’t even bother. It breaks free. I look at him, he looks at me, and now we’re both smiling at each other. To top it off, Ryder settles more into his seat and then reaches over and laces his fingers with mine.

He’s holding my hand.

Something so simple shouldn’t make me swoon the way it does, but he’s touching me.

Because he wants to.

The rest of the ride home we sit in content silence. I try to come up with a reason for us to spend the rest of the day together, but stupidly I can’t think of anything.

I mean, how would that go? Hey, want to watch a movie? Want to go out and get something to eat even though we just ate? Do you like bowling? All so dumb that I’m lost in my head when he pulls into the complex and parks us under a tree to be in the shade.

“What are you doing next weekend?” he asks, shifting in his seat to face me. He lets go of my hand, and his arm stretches out behind me. His hand props on the headrest.

I shift too, now we’re both looking at each other. “Next weekend?”

I smooth down my skirt to give my hands something to do when I feel his fingers gently wrap around and run down my ponytail.

“Well, yeah. Our next game is the following Monday night. The weekend is kind of open.”

Is he asking me out on a date?

It sounds like he is.

Other than asking to drive me, this is the first time in what feels like forever that he’s attempting to willingly plan something with me.