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I turn to see her. Brown boots are peeking from underneath her jeans and she's wearing a white sweater that displays a strong shoulder and collarbone.
“You look great.”
She smiles. “Worth the wait?”
“Definitely.”
Ryan walks over, takes my hand, and leads me out. She's very comfortable with me already. I like it. Her hair cascades around her face, and I can't see her features really well, but when I open the car door of my Dodge Charger for her, I do see a smile. Once I get in the car, Ryan angles herself towards me a little.
“You have a nice car.”
“Thanks.”
“What's your brother's name?” She asks.
“Owen. He's number 70.”
Ryan nods, seeming to be thinking about something. “Will your parents be there?” She says after a moment, a hint of apprehension coating her voice.
“No.”
“Whew. Good.” Then she backtracks a bit. “I mean, I'm sure they are great, but I'm not really meet-the-parents material. Hell, I even messed that up when my parents first met me.” She sounds slightly bitter, but then she changes the subject before I can question it. “Did you play football? You have the big, upper body of a football player.” At this, she squeezes my bicep.
“Yes, I did, and I was pretty good too.”
“Oh, I bet you were,” she grins, reluctantly removing her hand from my arm.
“What about you? Did you play any sports?”
Ryan's kind of tall for a girl. She could have been a basketball player.
“I played tennis,” she says simply.
“Played?”
“It was fun to start with, but then my parents were pressuring me too much. I played through my senior year and then quit. I still play here and there if I can find a partner.”
“Were you good?” I ask, picturing her in a white tennis dress, those long legs perfectly showing off how good they look.
“First seed, so yeah, I was. My coach was disappointed in me, but I couldn't handle it anymore.”
I glance over at her as I turn into the parking lot. Boy, this place is packed! “Do your parents pressure you a lot?” I pry.
She laughs humorlessly, but her answer evades the question. “Everyone has expectations, including them. Oh! There's a spot.” She points to the first empty space we've seen so far.
Ryan takes hold of my hand once more as we head to the main gate. I pay the fee for us to get in, and then we go hunting for seats. People are everywhere. Oh, yeah, I think as I remember what Owen said. Rival teams are playing tonight. That's why he told me about people getting here so early. I never really noticed this part when I played. I was always more focused on the game than the people watching.
There aren't many available seats on the bleachers. Ryan apparently finds some because she starts tugging me towards the middle section. She stops at one row about halfway up, but I don't see where she's expecting us to sit.
“You can sit on this one, and I'll sit right in front of you in that empty spot?”
Ryan wants to sit in front of me? How will that work for conversation?
“Sure,” I say anyway.
She goes first, politely excusing us as we maneuver in front of the people. Then she steps downward to her seat, and I sit down on the row above her. Ryan reaches behind her and over that bare shoulder of hers, she says, “Open up,” as she taps my leg. My knees come apart as she scoots backwards. Ah. Finally catching on, I move forward a little, and she leans into the space between my legs.
My hands start on her shoulders and then move down her arms as she turns her head to say something. We are truly relaxed around one another. It's surprising for this early on. I ignore it and focus on what she's about to say as three players go forward for the coin toss.
