“I’m sure he’d still want you.” How could he not?
“C’mon. Jon is probably lurking on the stairs to grab you.” She nodded her head into the door she opened, and we walked into a large bedroom with pale blue walls. An armchair sat next to a window that overlooked the front yard, and the room had its own adjacent bathroom. This room was bigger than most of the apartments I’d grown up in.
“Welcome to the blue room,” she said with a grand gesture at the pale-colored walls. She paused as her gesture returned to the bed, a king-sized mattress in white linens. Her face twisted. “I can’t believe my mom thought I was dating Del. I mean, I asked him to be my buffer because he never cares what other people think, but sleeping with him?” She made a face.
“So, just a friend, then? I was kind of wondering if he was the guy you were talking about having a thing for. The one you work with.”
Britta glanced away and toyed with her suitcase. “Uh, no. Not him. I’ve known Del since college. Don’t you think you’d know if I was dating someone? I spend all my free time with you.”
“I guess so. I was just curious.” I cleared my throat and took a step back when she looked up at me with those big eyes. “I haven’t seen much need for buffering yet. Your family seems kind of awesome.”
“Have no doubt, my mom is downstairs scheming.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “If I actually brought a boyfriend home, she’d immediately start planning a wedding.”
I was fairly certain my eagerness could be read from space, so I turned, inspecting some artwork on the wall. “You’ve never brought a boyfriend home?”
“Never felt right. They all ended up wanting to change me in some way. To be different physically, professionally, personality-wise. Never seemed worth the hassle to introduce them to my family.”
I ignored the painting and faced her again. “No one who deserves you would want you to be any different.”
“I know, Coach.” Her wry smile stirred the now-familiar feelings in my chest. “But thank you.”
I shrugged, like I hadn’t just been a millisecond from telling her she was perfect. The welcoming scent of her—the citrusy hair and something else that always seemed sweet—it was too much. I stepped back again and looked out the window, taking in the expanse of the yard filled with people. “So, what do I need to know?”
* * *
LUCKILY, I HAD gym shoes in the back of my car. Jon didn’t let me off the hook with throwing the ball, and I’d been drafted into the kids’ football game. As I closed the trunk, I heard Britta’s family in the back of the house—kids squealing, adults laughing, and the low hum of people having a good time. The entire scene was something from a movie—red-checked tablecloths under mountains of food, the Spades tournament in full swing, and everyone happy—it was weird, but there I was in the middle of it. A car pulling in behind mine shook me from my observation, and a guy dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt stepped out.
“Hey,” he said with a wave, which I returned as he neared. “Always a party at the Colby place, right?” He pointed to the side of the house where Britta’s family was scattered. He seemed familiar with the place.
“Yeah,” I said, noncommittal.
The guy laughed, seemingly unperturbed by my tone. “Seems like if there’s something going on in this town, it’s here.”
I nodded.
He reached his hand out. “I’m Calvin. My parents are their closest neighbors.”
I nearly stumbled and glanced around, as if Britta would be nearby giving me a nod. Apparently, I was chatting with the opposition. He wasn’t what I was expecting—from Britta’s description, I’d envisioned a mash-up of the main characters from The Big Bang Theory, but he was a good-looking guy.
Would Britta be into this guy? An unexpected uneasiness settled in my gut.
“Wes.” I shook his hand, gripping a little tighter than I needed to. “I’m here with Britta.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh,” he said, surprise coloring his face. “I, uh, didn’t know she was seeing someone.”
I let his statement hang in the air, answering with only a flat expression.
He adjusted his glasses. “You guys been together long?”
“We met a few months ago.” I tried to keep my answers vague as a moment of doubt crept in, wondering if Britta actually wanted me to do this. He was sizing me up, and I stood a little straighter. In for a penny . . .
“We, uh, dated in high school.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I was hoping to catch up with her again.”
We neared the house, and Jon, Britta’s nephew, ran toward us, clutching the football. “Britta’s friend! Can you throw me the ball? My brother doesn’t think I can catch it, but I told him I could ’cause you taught me.” The kid’s face was red, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, and his smile, missing two teeth, was wide. He tossed the ball to me, and I told him to go long, motioning toward the expansive tract of land behind the house.
Calvin and I watched the kid run back to the stretch of grass near Britta and two other women. He cleared his throat. “This is a little awkward, but I’ve known Britta a long time. I still care about her, so if you hurt her—”
Jon reached a stopping point, and I threw what was arguably a perfect spiral pass. I was posturing for the guy beside me and the woman watching us, but I couldn’t help myself.
I turned to Calvin and raised an eyebrow. “You’ll hurt me?”
He laughed again, a genuine one this time, and his features relaxed. “Probably not, but I’d try. She’s a cool girl. A really cool girl, and always has been. So, just know I’ll be waiting in the wings.”
I glanced at the woman in question laughing at something Jon told her after catching the ball. Britta’s smile brightened, and she looked at me, a happy, curious expression on her face, probably wondering what we were talking about.
I felt bad for Calvin. He seemed like a nice guy, but I didn’t feel bad enough to step aside. “Sorry, man. I think you’ll be waiting awhile.”
I jogged toward Britta, catching a decent pass from Jon as I neared. She looked up at me skeptically, and I shrugged, leaning in to brush my lips against her ear, my arm snaking around her waist.
She stiffened against me, surely surprised by my sudden PDA. I’m doing what she asked and being a buffer, right? That was my excuse for pulling her to me and enjoying the way her curves aligned against my body as she relaxed. It’s allowed. We’re pretending. “It’s possible Calvin thinks we’re dating.” Because I basically told him we’re dating. “How do you want to play this?”
Her expression shifted in recognition as our eyes met. She wrapped her own arm around me. “You are a lifesaver,” she said in a low voice only I could hear, keeping her body pressed to mine, and I thanked God for Calvin.
37
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When I signed up for FitMi, I mostly did what my coach told me, and I had success. I planned to be more active and assumed I’d build some muscle, but I don’t think I really cared—I don’t think I really wanted it—until recently, when I admitted how much I love seeing what I can do, the goals I’m capable of reaching. You know that kind of wanting where you can see what you desire in front of you and can almost touch it? Where you just know the air will taste a little sweeter once you get it, and it feels like maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance it’s possible? The wanting. Wow. It gets you.
* * *