Intercepted
“I have one date planned if you want it to be a surprise or you could choose.” He leans toward me, his eyebrows up. Even with his beard, he looks so young.
“Thank you for offering, but . . .” I pause and watch his body slump over. “I hate planning dates. I’ll take the surprise.”
“Is that a yes?” His head pops back up, and he’s got the dimple-revealing grin plastered to his face.
“Yes, it is,” I say right before he punches the air above his head and picks me up off the floor.
“Yes!” He hugs me tight and kisses me on the cheek before putting me back on the ground. “You won’t regret this.”
I know I won’t.
What he doesn’t know is I was going to call him tonight anyway.
Ha. Sucker.
“Are you free tomorrow?” he asks but starts talking again before I can answer. “What time do you get off?”
“I get off at three.”
“Then I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s okay with you.” He’s bouncing on his toes and still smiling his wide grin. Who needs flowers when their man acts like you hang the moon? Not I.
“Five is perfect.” I try to bite back my smile, but I’m not successful. His excitement is contagious and it’s impossible for me not to catch it.
* * *
• • •
THE ONLY HINT Gavin gave me for our date was to dress in comfortable clothes.
I’m sure there are women who’d be disappointed not to go on some fancy, expensive date with an NFL quarterback, but I’m not one of them. And his knowing that made me feel even more secure in saying yes to tonight.
With Gregory still on the loose, I haven’t felt comfortable going back to my apartment, so Gavin gets to pick me up from my parents’. He knocks on the door at five on the button. Punctuality isn’t one of my strong points, but I can appreciate when it is for others. Unlike the first time he met my dad, there are no bro-hugs or nicknames today. By making me mad, interrupting the Mustangs game with flowers, and taking me on a date, Gavin has been removed from my dad’s friend list and placed on his “Guys Who Date My Daughter” list.
Gavin hates it, but I like it much better. Seeing them interact was like watching a dog who only walks on its hind legs. It’s just weird.
“I want you back by nine,” my dad says before we leave.
“Yes, s—” Gavin is in the middle of agreeing when I cut him off.
“He’s messing with you, Gavin.” I turn to my dad, who isn’t doing a very good job hiding his amusement. “Bye, Dad.”
I push Gavin out of the front door and slam it behind me before I hear my mom and dad bust out laughing. Immaturity runs in the family.
“Damn,” Gavin says as he opens my door to his truck. “Is it weird that I already miss your dad liking me?”
I climb into the seat. “Yes. Very weird. But if it makes you feel better, he still likes you. He just likes to mess with you more.”
Dad never messed with Chris. He just shot him dirty looks from wherever he was standing when he came around. This thing he has with Gavin is actually pretty adorable . . . even though I’ll never admit it.
When Gavin starts his truck, he already has the country station playing, and I feel a little breathless. I don’t try to hide my smile when my favorite song comes on and I belt the lyrics out right along with Luke Bryan.
I’m a terrible singer. Chris used to try and turn up the music until it drowned me out or he would get pissed because I “ruined another good fuckin’ song.” Gavin doesn’t do either. Instead, he laughs right along with me, singing just as out of tune and butchering the lyrics. He threads his fingers through mine while he’s driving and brings my hand to his lips during the drive. Each sweet, quick touch of his mouth while he’s laughing causes warmth to radiate through my chest until I worry I might explode.
“We’re here.” Gavin motions to the arcade in front of us.
“Shut up!” I hit his arm a little harder than I meant to, but he still doesn’t flinch. “I’ve wanted to come here forever! I thought it was closed on Tuesdays though?”
“Not for us.” His chest puffs out. “It’s just you, me, and Pac-Man in there tonight.”
Gavin’s so laid-back and easygoing, it’s not hard for me to forget he’s loaded, and a date with him could include renting out Denver’s most popular hipster arcade.
We’re walking to the door when it swings open and a forty-something man in a plaid shirt, skinny jeans, and a knit beanie walks out, giving Gavin a very enthusiastic welcome.
Gavin and I listen to him for a few minutes before Gavin gives him a polite, yet very effective, brush-off.
“That was real smooth, Mr. Pope,” I whisper when we’ve put enough distance between us and our hipster host.
“Oh. You liked that, did you?” He bends over and brushes his lips against mine. “Don’t try and pick up my techniques to use on me.”
“Please.” I roll my eyes. “I hope your ego’s not so bruised from me kicking your ass all night long that you don’t try them on me.”
“Yeah right, Harper. You’re going down tonight.”
#ThatsWhatSheSaid
Pinball machines and retro video games fill the room—Donkey Kong, Centipede, and some Michael Jackson dance game I will definitely return to later. I’m halfway down the row when the perfect game comes into view.
“What do you say, Pope?” I point to the giant, four-player game. “Pac-Man or bust?”
I skip toward the game in the corner of the arcade, unable to prevent my hands from clapping like a child.
“Damn, girl, you must not know you’re standing next to the Pac-Man king,” Gavin says from close behind. “They don’t call me the cherry-busting master for nothing.”
“Oh my god!” I stop mid skip and turn into his chest. “Please tell me you did not just say that!”
“Yeah . . . I heard it after I said it.” Gavin’s face flames red. “My friends started and stopped calling me that in second grade, it didn’t have the same meaning to our seven-year-old minds.”
“Well, there will be no cherry busting, and you’re going to lose.” I pat his chest two times and walk toward the game. “I hope you still have fun tonight.”
“You don’t stand a chance! Did you forget who I am?”
#InfamousLastWords
Twenty-two
“Stop pouting.” I slap Gavin’s thigh when he gets settled in the driver’s seat. “I told you a million times. The football field’s the only place you’ll ever beat me. Learn to accept it.”
“You’re a sore winner,” Gavin says.
I give him a crisp nod. Duh.
“The only thing I heard you say was I’m a winner.”
At first, Gavin was letting me win, but he has not taken Naomi’s acting classes. He’s as bad of a liar as I am. After a little whining and taunting on my behalf, he finally gave it his all.
I still won, and I didn’t ever ease up.
Obviously. I’m a beast.
“I’ll get you next time.” He stops talking and checks his rearview mirror as he reverses out of the parking spot. “And when I do, I’m going to gloat all night.”
“I’m just happy to hear you still have dreams, babe.” Oops. My eyes widen, and I freeze. We had so much fun tonight, and I got so comfortable with him, it just slipped out.