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“You promised if I went to Timber Thrills, you would come. There’s no way am I letting you weasel your way out of it. Besides, my mom set an appointment for you at Chauncey’s. She said she told you.” I look up at the enormous digital clock on the wall to check the time. “Your appointment is at two. On my way.”
I hang up before she can respond. Why is she avoiding me? I should just apologize for kissing her and try to get her out of my head. The locker room is empty, enabling me to shower and dress in record time.
When I pull up at her apartment, she’s waiting on the sidewalk with a pair of heels in hand. I let out a sigh of relief.
“How was practice?” she asks.
“Good.” Lie. I was thinking about you. “Coach noticed how everyone was treating Nick and asked me about it.”
“What did you say?”
“Just that he acted like an ass at Timber Thrills.” It’s hard to swallow the lump in my throat, reminded that I kissed my best friend without permission.
“Has Nick mentioned me?”
“Nothing much.” Except that he thinks you’re hung up on me. Wow, does he have that wrong. If he only knew I got shot down too.
“Good, I don’t have time for guys right now,” she says as I open the door for her.
Lettie lets me down easy, with a sentence thrown into the wind, so we don't have a sincere conversation. When I get in and push start, she laughs. “Especially ones that pee in a public place.”
I chuckle. “So… you have time for guys that have the decency to go inside a bathroom?” I glance at her as she taps her lip.
“Hmm. They would have a better shot.”
Laying my hand on top of her knee, I pump it twice. “I’ll miss you.” Lettie has two Grand Prix Show Jumping competitions, and her new trainer wants her for a solid month to perfect her and her horse’s form.
“There are plenty of girls to keep you company. It’s only a month.”
“I know, but this is triple the time.” The longest we’ve been apart is ten days. “I wish you didn’t have to go for two weeks before each event. And I wish I could be there to support you.”
“Me too. But you want to be drafted first in the NBA, and my goal is to get enough points to make the Olympic Trials,” she says, as she reaches behind me, rubbing my back. Her touch sends chill bumps up my neck and scalp. “Oh, stop. Stop. That little boy is selling lemonade. Isn’t he cute? Remember when we would set up lemonade stands in the summer?” she asks, leaning forward.
Bringing the car to a stop, she jumps out, and the little boy beams with pride. “Would you like strawberry or regular?” he asks.
“We’ll take two strawberry, please,” she says.
The boy pours the drinks and recognition flashes over his face. “You’re… you’re Dane Greathouse. The best player in the nation. Why didn’t you go to the NBA?”
Lettie pushes against my arm. “He couldn’t leave me. He loves me too much.”
The boy, probably around nine or ten, has black hair and deep mahogany eyes. “No wonder you stayed.”
If a ten-year-old can see it, why can’t she?
Chapter Nine
LETTIE
The sales associate from Chuancey’s has five dresses picked out for me when we arrive. Mrs. Greathouse wants the family to blend together for photographs. All my dresses are shades of orange from peach to coral.
This one is strapless but has a “v” cutout at the cleavage. Perfect for garnering the attention of one superstar basketball player and judging by the mesmerized look on Dane’s face, this dress is sold.
The way his eyes travel over my body, it’s possible he kissed me at Timber Thrills, and it wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
“What do you think?” I ask as I twirl slowly. When I stop back in front of him, he’s adjusting himself, which isn’t unusual. Guys do that all of the time, but he’s holding his breath.
“It’s a… it looks like you could be Miss America,” he chokes out in a raspy tone.
