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“Lettie, I’m so proud of you. You got my messages, didn’t you?” She wraps her arm around me just as I throw in the heaviest piece, and my elbow hits her in the jaw.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. You would think I would have more grace.”
She cackles. “You’ve never been known for being graceful. I would say you’re more like a tornado. You walk into a room, and everything jumps off the tables and walls. Except when you’re riding—you are the epitome of grace and class.”
“Thank you. I owe it to you. I had a hard time focusing.” We go around the vehicle and get settled. “What if I never rode a horse? And I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for you.”
She pats my leg easily. “Let’s not talk about the past and concentrate on the future. Love the jersey,” she says with a quirk of her brow and a knowing smile. “His dad is very upset that he blew off his responsibilities.”
I twist my lips. “Thanks. Dane thought he would go off. Why hasn’t he?”
“He’s more worried about how it affects him. I hardly see or speak to him since he’s out campaigning all the time and I can’t travel with him since school started. But hopefully, he’s realizing that Dane needs to make his own decisions. Who knows?” A hint of sadness and something else I can’t quite put my finger on lingers in her voice, but then we laugh at that because Mr. Greathouse thinks he makes every decision.
We drive to my apartment and unload the suitcases and then head straight to Stallions Arena. Of course, the Greathouses have VIP access, and we stroll into the area filled with large donors. Everything in the building is related to horses or bourbon in some way. The food table, known as the “Grazing Table,” has country ham sandwiches, pulled barbeque chicken, and all kinds of chips and fruit.
As we walk around, with our little blue plates, eating finger foods, Dane’s fans descend on me, not Mrs. Greathouse. “Elizabeth Scott? Congrats! Hope you make it to the Olympics.”
“Thank you,” I say over and over. I almost wish Dane hadn’t brought the camera crew but at the same time, I’ll always have those snippets of him hugging me or saying he loves me. They would have never been caught on camera without them being there.
Then several teenagers and college students approach me, asking for my autograph. Okay, this is cool. I had no idea that so many of them followed equestrian[JD1] sports. My bubble busts when one girl gushes, “You and Dane are going to be so famous. Those songs… gah.. so fun, and that last one was so emotional. You two sold it like you were breaking up for real.”
Chatter surrounds me with people talking about the viral videos. The room feels like it’s spinning. Dane wants to be known for basketball, and I want to be known for my riding.
Thankfully, the big blue clock hits thirty minutes, and the team comes out to warm up before the game, and we head to our seats on the second row. Dane is shooting at the other end, stroking ball after ball through the net. But when he turns to talk to Nick, he sees me.
I stand, and he jogs over to me, looking every bit of the man and athlete I know he is. His muscles shine with a thin layer of sweat.
He jumps over the first row of chairs and kisses me in front of his mom. I push him back just a bit and say, “How do you like it?” I ask about me wearing his jersey.
He whispers, “The things I’m going to do to you.” When we separate, he laughs and says, “Mom, have you met my girlfriend Elizabeth Scott?”
I can’t control the burst of laughter that comes from me. “Get back out there. You better win your first game with a girlfriend, or your dad will make you break up with me,” I joke.
He winks. “It’s in the bag.”
As always, Dane plays incredibly well with a triple double—twenty-three points, eleven rebounds, and ten assists. His mom kisses him on the cheek and asks if we want to go to dinner, but he tells her we have plans with friends to watch Logan’s game.
I wait in the VIP area for him to shower and come from the locker room. He drove to the arena. He comes out and says, “Do you know this is the first time I’ve had a girl waiting on me in my four years here?”
“I’ve waited for you many times.” I cock a hip out.
“Yeah, but then you were my best friend. Now you’re my girlfriend who happens to be my best friend.” He tips my chin up and plants a quick wet kiss on my lips. “Let’s go.” He drapes his arm over my shoulder, and his teammates holler as we pass them.
Reed asked if we would stop and pick up some cake pops from The Sugar Shack. When we walk into Reed and Brooke’s house, there are at least twenty people milling around. Immediately, I spot Mac Callaghan, Flynn, and Presley, and five or six guys in hockey shirts and about the same in Stallions baseball shirts.
Dane laces his fingers with mine as we snake through the front room. “Jabari, good to see you, man. Two big wins, maybe we don’t need Logan.” Even Jabari chuckles at that one. “This is my girlfriend Lettie.” I’m amazed that I haven’t met him before as we float between groups of athletes, but he just transferred here this season.
“Hi.”
“This is Josie, my …”
“It’s not that hard to say girlfriend,” Josie says, rolling her eyes. “We used to be friends with benefits but recently decided to move into new territory.”
“Well, we’ve been best friends since we were six, so this has been an awkward transition for us too. Anyway, we brought cake pops. Want one?” I ask, offering the tray of boxing glove cake pops in red. It’s weird to have parties with red anything. In fact, we have a rule against it but since it’s Logan, and it’s a professional team, I guess everyone’s letting it slide.
I pull Dane into the kitchen, and they follow.
“Lettie!” Caleb screams in delight. Not sure if it’s because I haven’t seen him in weeks or I’m holding a tray of cake pops. I’ll go with both. I set the tray on the island as he leaps into my arms. Then he sees Dane crouch down, and he hugs us both. “Gweathouse!”
