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“Yikes,” April murmured.
But Farrah whimpered from the back seat. “That’s even hotter.”
“Why is he texting you, though?” April asked. “It was a funny fantasy when we were kids, but if he’sactuallytrying to pick you up now, that’s a little skeevy.”
“Relax. He’s not trying to pick me up. He asked me if I want to dog sit while his team’s on the road.”
The girls fell silent, a sense of disappointment displacing the air in the car.
“That’sit? He just wants you to dog sit?” Farrah asked. “Jeez. Getting us all worked up over nothing.”
“Youwere getting worked up, not me,” April said. “I think it’s a really bad idea.”
“Don’t worry, April. It’s just a silly crush,” I said. “Between the massive age gap and the fact that he’s my dad’s best friend, there’s no way anything will ever happen between us.”
“Then why did you come when he texted you?” Farrah asked.
Amid my protests—“Farrah! I didnotcome!”—the three of us howled with laughter.
“Look, yes, he’s mega hot,” I said when the laughter died down. “I’m not denying that. But I’d never do anything with him.”
Even if I really, really want to.
“Uh-huh. Sure,” Farrah said.
“Anyway, how should I text him back?”
“Seems pretty straight forward to me,” Farrah said. “Either‘Yes, I can watch your dog,’or‘No, I cannot watch your dog.’I mean, thisisabout dog sitting. Isn’t it? Or is there more to the story you’re not telling us?”
My silence spoke volumes—so, too, did the smile that slowly crept across my cheeks.
“Uh-oh, she looks guilty!” April said.
“Okay, okay. I’m not sure, because I might have imagined it,” I stammered, “but Rustmighthave tried to make a move on me at the game last week.”
“WHAT?!”The girls gasped.“Why didn’t you tell us?!”
“Because I’m not sure if it was real! And if itwasreal, then Ireallydon’t know what to do next!”
“Like you don’t know if you should watch his dog? Or you don’t know if you should fuck his brains out?” Farrah asked.
“Idefinitelyshouldn’t fuck him. But if I go there to watch his dog, and he makes a move on me, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself.”
April pulled off the road and parked at our favorite lunch spot.
“It’s not fair April already knows the whole story,” Farrah complained as we spilled out of the car. “I wanna know the whole story, too!”
“I guess I’ve put it off long enough, huh?” I said as we entered the restaurant. “Fine, I’ll tell you everything.”
* * *
My fascination with Rust Walker began when I was a young girl. It didn’t start as a crush because one, I was way too young for that, and two, for the longest time, I was completelyterrifiedof him. He was so talland his voice so deep and gruff that, yeah, I was freaked out by his presence. Heck, he was so tall, he had to duck when he walked through our doorways, like he was some kind of mythical giant.
Back then, Rust played for Vancouver, but he always came home to Minnesota in the summer. That’s when he’d come over and hang out with Dad. In other words, Rust came around just often enough that he remained something of a stranger to me, and I never felt comfortable around him.
So every time Rust came over, I hid. But it’s not like I stayed hidden—no, I stayed someplace where I could still spy on him, because I didn’t want to let him out of my sight. And I’d just stare at him for hours. Because something inside me was so drawn to him. Sometimes, he’d happen to spot me and catch me staring. He’d flash his handsome smile and give me a little wave, say something like,“Hey there, cutie!”or,“Hi, little miss Isabelle!”Caught, I’d immediately scamper off, my little heart pounding.
For a few years, we saw less of Rust. He married a girl from Vancouver, and I thought she was the prettiest girl in the world. But now that he was married, he was too busy to come to Minnesota like he used to. He and Dad still had their annual golf trip together in the summer, of course, but I didn’t see him for quite a while.
