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“Um…I…”
“Yeah, sure. Everybody knows me,” I said. “I’m a professional linebacker.”
Her mom raised an eyebrow. “A what?”
“Oh, dear, I think that’s some kind of ROTC thing,” Piper’s dad muttered to his wife.
Piper glanced between us, shocked. “Dad, no…”
“A linebacker isn’t an ROTC thing,” I interjected. “It’s for the Romans.”
“That’s the…hockey team, isn’t it?” her mom asked. “Or is it golf?”
"It’s the football team, dear," Piper’s dad replied and turned back to face me. "Young man, we were just discussing this. Now—during the Hellenization period—Ares was referred to as Mars, as Romans adopted more of Greek culture, but why is the hockey team called the Gladiators? Gladiators might not have even originally developed during the Roman Empire, it depends on who you’re discussing the theories with, between Ancient Campania and the Etruscan civilization."
“The what?” I asked. “The hellish what?”
I stood next to the table, rendered speechless. Not only did her parents have no idea who I was, they had no idea what I was. They didn’t know anything about football. All I looked like was some guy coming up to bother the table. What the hell could I say to salvage it?
“Adam.” Piper caught my attention again, stunned. “What are you doing here?”
“Kiddo, who is this guy?” Her dad grimaced and dropped his voice to a whisper that still carried over. “Is he mentally unwell?”
Piper pinched the bridge of her nose. “Dad—oh my god—don’t say that.”
Holy shit. This couldn’t get worse.
“No, I’m not mentally—uh—” I stopped myself. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that—I used to have dyslexia. Or I still do. I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s a…mental thing…maybe it’s a physical—I don’t know.”
Fuck me. This is painful.
A tiny voice called out to me from the entrance of the restaurant. “Adam…Russell?”
That was my quick exit. My interviewer. But I still couldn’t believe it. I just butchered my first and only chance to meet Piper’s parents. Piper looked even more embarrassed than she did at the RA conference.
I didn’t know what it was. Whenever it came to anything with Piper, I was off my game.
I clapped my hands together. “So, I’ve got this…thing. Have a great dinner.”
Without a glance back, I walked over to the table that had my interviewer, and yanked out my chair, sitting down, muttering under my breath. I fucked the whole thing up.
Story of my fucking life.
“Hi.” A mousy little girl gave me a wave. “I’m Tallulah.”
And now I had the goddamn interview to deal with. I rubbed my jaw, trying to think of some excuse to get out of it. But if I left, Cleo would kill me. She’d already gone through the motions of rescheduling it. And I promised Ryan I wouldn’t fuck up the public relations shit anymore.
Oh, fuck it. I’m ditching the interview.
“Hey, I know this is shit timing but…” I paused, glancing back at Piper’s table. Ryan hadn’t been the only one I’d promised.
Goddammit.
With a sigh, I settled in my chair. “Never mind.”
I had to grit my teeth and get it over with. I’d done plenty of interviews with the school paper and they’d all been with one of the two regular writers, Melissa or something and someone else. Tallulah was new. I didn’t know her.
It wasn’t a bad thing, it just brought me off my game. And that was a regular for tonight apparently.
