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“Maybe because you speak your mind so easily and some people get uncomfortable by that. But I swear I have friends who would find you hilarious.” He pauses. “If you don’t believe me, though, you could always come to this get together I’m having tomorrow and find out for yourself. It’s our bye week, so we get to stay up late and everything,” he jokes.
I unzip my jacket because while the air is cold, my body is still sweaty and warm from the run and my skin needs to breathe. “Well, aren’t you a big boy?”
He chuckles, then falls silent for a beat as he shifts his weight. “So, you should come.”
I elevate my brows. “To your get-together so I can see if your friends find me hilarious?”
With his lips pressed together, he nods. “Yeah. I mean, we can also hang out too. It doesn’t need to be just for that.”
I toss my jacket onto the ground. I’m wearing a tank top underneath that only goes to the mid-section of my stomach and I notice how his gaze drops down in that direction. “That sounds like maybe you just want me to come around so you can stare into my eyes again and dissect the color.” I crack a joke because I’m a little uncomfortable over the fact that I think the quarterback of the football team is trying to ask me out.
He rolls his tongue in his mouth to suppress a smile. “Maybe it is a little bit about that, but I really do want you to show you that not all people are douchebags.”
“Mm…hmmm…” I say. He keeps sneaking glances at my abs. “Or maybe you’re just inviting me so you can stare at this some more.” I gesture at my stomach.
Instead of being embarrassed, his lips spread to a smile. “That wouldn’t be so bad. It’s really nice to look at.”
“Jesus,” I groan. “You’re one of those guys that love cheesy lines, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” he admits. “But I think you might be the kind of person that secretly likes that or else why would you be standing here with me?”
I roll my eyes then pick up my jacket from off the ground. “Let you? You’re the one who came over and forced your way into my purple circle.”
He busts up laughing. “What the fuck is a purple circle?”
“My personal space.” I draw a circle in the air around myself. “Didn’t your teacher call it that when you were in grade school?”
He shakes his head. A few strands of his blonde hair have fallen out from the elastic and he brushes them out of his face. “She didn’t. However, she did have a corner of shame.”
“What?”
“Yeah, she was a mean woman that got fired after one year of teaching.” He brushes a strand of grass off the side of his shorts. “She made me cry once.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because she told me my poem was,” he makes air quotes, “‘Amateur and lacked any heart.”
I gape at him. “And she was your kindergarten teacher?”
“Yep.”
I jut out my bottom lip. “That’s so mean.”
He flicks a piece of grass off of his leg. “I know.”
“So did she ruin your future poet dreams… Wait, is that why you became a quarterback instead?”
“Nah, I still write sometimes.” He pulls the elastic out of his hair and his blond strands fall down and frame his face. “And I became a quarterback because I loved the game. I lucked out that I was good at it.”
I like his reason more than I want to admit. It’s genuine. Real. I haven’t had that in a while. “Does your family like that you play?”
He nods, stuffing the elastic into his pocket. He gets this really odd look on his face before quickly erasing it. It happens so fast I can’t tell what the fleeting shift was about.
“They’re all really into football, but only me and my oldest brother were good at it. He fucked up his knee, though, during senior year of high school, so he never made it to college. He would’ve gone, though, if that hadn’t have happened and probably gone off to the NFL.”
At this point I could tell him who my brother is, but I don’t. I’m enjoying this conversation and if I say who he is, Wylder is going to flip out. And I think I just want to keep this whole thing between us pretty chill for now. I don’t want him knowing everything about me.
“That’s cool. I mean, that he was so good. It sucks that he ruined his knee, though.”
