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An extra-long couch and a few recliners fill the space. Shelves holding trophies and Thunder posters dot the walls. The whole front wall is a massive screen.
“You have a movie room?”
“It’s good for reviewing game tape … and watching movies. I don’t do that as much.”
“We can watch tape,” I tell him, taking a seat on the couch.
“Yeah. No.”
He sits down next to me. Not in a recliner. Not further down the couch. Right next to me.
“I’m serious,” I say. “I’d far rather watch tape than a movie.”
“Really?”
He seems baffled. He shouldn’t be.
“Do I have to beg?” I tease him.
“Is begging on the table? Because I’d love to see you beg.” He laughs.
I raise a brow. “I’m not begging.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“Would you beg me?” I ask him. “If the shoe were on the other foot?”
“Oh, I’d grovel and beg on my knees.”
“You so would not.”
He chuckles. “Okay, maybe not.” He picks up a remote. “Game tape it is. But on one condition.”
“What’s that?” I ask, taking a bite of my pasta. It’s good. And still warm.
“You have to give commentary.”
“Oh, I’m giving commentary.”
He laughs. “Good.”
We finish our dinners while we watch tape from the past few Thunder games, and we then study film for the next game with the Panthers. The Thunder lost last time against them. This time, we’ve got that experience to give us some insight.
I started yawning about an hour ago. But I was having too much fun to leave. Marcus was asking me questions. He wanted my thoughts on various players and play calls.
After faking with him for the past few months and somewhat misjudging him before that, I’m surprisingly comfortable with him. I sometimes forget he’s Marcus Delaney, Thunder quarterback. But tonight, he was in his element, and I had the rare opportunity to talk football at a nuanced level with one of the best quarterbacks in the league.
I yawn again.
He gets up to take our plates into the kitchen, saying, “Don’t move,” before leaving the room.
I watch him, staring at him as he goes. He saunters like a jungle cat, even in the most mundane movements. A jungle cat who fills out jeans and a T-shirt in a way that should be illegal. I laugh to myself at the image.
I’m sedate from pasta and exhaustion. My normal defenses are dulled. Marcus has been a complete gentleman the whole night. I wish I didn’t notice everything about him. But I do.
He comes back, picks up the remote and asks, “Do you need to head out?”
I should. I’ve already been yawning. Just a little more. I’ll go soon.
