“No. Shelby suggested I pretend to be a pizza delivery guy.”
Georgia narrows her eyes as she uses a napkin to clean up the water she spewed. “What?”
Hunter shrugs. “Shelby said it would be adventurous.” He takes a bite of his cheeseburger.
“How did you pretend to be a pizza delivery guy?” Levi asks.
“You know my teammate Logan? Well, he works for Pizza Hut. He let me borrow his uniform and the sign for the top of my truck.”
“Then what?” Levi asks, eating fries one at a time, like popcorn, watching Hunter as if he’s a movie.
“I got to her house. She pulled me into the parlor, where we started making out on the sofa. We were really getting into it when her dad showed up—he saw the pizza delivery truck outside and wanted a slice…but I didn’t have one.”
“You didn’t have a pizza?” I ask.
Hunter looks sheepish. “That’s the one part of the costume I forgot.”
“How do you forget the pizza when you’re pretending to be the pizza delivery dude!” Georgia asks.
Hunter squirms in his seat. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Clearly,” Levi jokes, and we all start laughing again.
“But it was worth it,” Hunter says.
“For a two-minute make-out session?” Georgia asks.
“I really like her. I keep asking her to be my girlfriend, but she says no since I’m leaving in June.” Before he starts classes at the Air Force Academy this fall, Hunter has to complete boot camp over the summer. He leaves right after graduation.
Hunter drops his burger onto his plate, aggravated. “I guess we’ll just keep sneaking around… I wish I didn’t have to leave.”
“You don’t want to go to Colorado?” Levi asks.
“I want both,” Hunter says. “I want to go to the Academy and stay with Shelby.”
Hunter’s father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and pretty much every male member of his family was in the Air Force. I’m not sure if Hunter actually wants to join, or if he’s doing it because it’s expected of him. I’m not sure he can make the distinction himself.
I feel bad for him, but listening to the story gets me even more wound up than I already was. And by wound up, I mean…turned on. It’s not normal for your friend’s silly hook-up story to turn you on, right? I sigh, wishing I had someone to make out with. Sure, some people exercise to relieve stress, but I already exercise for half the day, so I need some other way to get rid of this tension.
When I roll my shoulders, I catch Levi giving me a concerned look.
Dinner is over sooner than I would like, but I need my rest before conferences tomorrow. In the parking lot, as I walk to the truck, I stretch my arms over my head. Levi walks up behind me and massages my upper back. His thumbs expertly work my knotted muscles. I peek over my shoulder at him, and he returns my smile.
“Feeling tight?” he asks.
“A little.”
He pokes my back. “This knot isn’t little. It’s bigger than a golf ball. Hot tub?”
“Yesss!”
If there’s one thing I truly need in life, it’s a hot tub. I’m lucky my best friend has one.
Back at his house, we find his mom actually home at a reasonable hour, playing a game of Scrabble with Oma and Opa in the kitchen. Two empty wine bottles and the remains of a cheese platter sit on the table. Pepper is zonked out in her doggie bed; the hair hanging over her eyes flutters when she snores.
“Maggie!” Levi’s family says, and they each demand a kiss on the cheek. I oblige, then sit down next to his mom.
She gives me a sly smile. “Got a surprise for you.” She reaches into her tote bag on the counter and pulls out a CD with Jesse Scott’s face on it. It’s his next album, which doesn’t come out for another month! He autographed it: “To my favorite future Olympian.”
I squeal and hug the CD. “Thank you.”
“I don’t know what you see in that guy,” Levi says to me.
“Me neither,” Ms. Lucassen jokes. “He’s going to send me to an early grave.”
As an executive at Rêve, she spends most of her time managing the Jesse Scott account, and with that boy’s drama, it’s definitely a full-time job.
I examine the CD. It’s a picture of the country star standing next to a tractor, staring into the sunset. “I love this picture.”
“I can’t wait to tell him you said that,” Ms. Lucassen says. “Jesse’s decided that tractors are lame and wants a new brand.”
“But all his album covers feature a tractor.”
“I love those tractors,” Oma tells Opa, who muses, “If the ladies like tractors, maybe I should get one.”
Ms. Lucassen says, “Jesse suggested a cover photo of him grilling at a cookout.”
I cringe. “That sounds like something my dad would do.”
“Exactly,” Ms. Lucassen says. “I know what sells. Jesse Scott flipping burgers in a Hawaiian shirt would not sell. Standing shirtless by a tractor always sells.”
Levi rolls his eyes.
“But Jesse did say to wish you both good luck at conferences tomorrow,” she adds. “He’ll be rooting for you.”
“Levi doesn’t need luck,” Oma complains. “He’s got my genes.” Oma was a champion swimmer back in the Netherlands.
Opa rearranges his Scrabble tiles, grumbling, “He’s got my genes too.”
“You were a mailman!” Oma says.
“Walking all day takes lots of endurance,” Opa retorts.
“Maggie needs to relax before tomorrow, so we’ll be going now,” Levi says, steering me away from a round of Oma-Opa WrestleMania.
In the powder room, I change into my suit, then I meet him on the back porch, which overlooks their yard and Normandy Lake. Their house is on a prime piece of property and has a private beach. When we were little, Levi accused me of being his friend for his lake access.
“Not just that,” I’d say. “You have a trampoline too.”
We still love to lie on it in summertime, as the smell of honeysuckle wafts over us. But since it’s February, we stick to the hot tub.
I pull off the towel I borrowed from Levi, revealing a navy blue one piece. I have exactly one bikini, but I only wear it to the beach. All my other suits are practical. Maybe I should get some more bikinis for college. I mean, what if college kids spend lots of time in Jacuzzis?
I ease into the hot water. Steam wafts off the surface into the brisk starry night. The air smells clean, as if it might snow.
Still standing on the deck, Levi strips out of his gray New Wave sweatshirt and track pants down to black jammers. It’s weird seeing him in those; normally he wears Speedos at the pool like the other guys. His other suits must be in the wash.
He slides in next to me and stretches his arms over the edge of the hot tub on either side of him. It seems like every day his muscles are getting bigger and bigger. I see him without a shirt on all the time, but here in the dark, suddenly his buff body and long blond hair reminds me of what happened with Dylan. I clear my throat.
“What?” Levi asks.
“I was just thinking about that weird guy at Cal.”
“Your thick, juicy steak dinner boy?” Levi says, flashing me a smile.