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“Jo Jo?” His dad’s eyebrows shoot up.
“That’s a cute nickname,” his mom rushes in to say, “I love it.”
It used to bug me, but I love it when Knox calls me Jo Jo now too. Ugh, I love everything he does.
Because I’m in love with him.
How am I supposed to work up the nerve to tell him that? It feels impossible. I should talk to Leon about it. He’s always good with relationship advice; plus, it helps to get a male perspective on things.
We all pile into Knox’s truck and he drives us to a nearby breakfast café that’s a favorite among college students. It’s crowded, but we’re seated pretty quickly at a table. Once the orders are given and coffee has been poured, the gentle interrogation begins. Where am I from, how many siblings do I have. The usual.
“What’s your major, Joanna?” his mom asks.
“Marketing and public relations, Mrs. Maguire. Though I’m thinking about becoming a writer.” I can’t believe I just admitted that, but I think it’s the Knox Maguire effect. He believes in me so much, I’m starting to believe in myself too.
“Please, call me Chelsea. And that makes sense, considering you’re an English tutor. A writer. That would be fun! He told you I was his dad’s tutor, right? That’s how we met.” His parents share a look, and it’s full of nostalgic love.
“He did tell me. Such a coincidence.”
“When he let me know he was getting a tutor, I said he could be meeting the love of his life and he denied it. Now look at the two of you.” Chelsea beams.
Owen nudges his wife’s shoulder, also looking pleased.
I glance over at Knox to find him watching me, his brows lowered, a question in his eyes. Was it over the use of the word love? That might’ve scared him. I don’t know what his feelings are for me yet, but I do know he likes me. A lot.
Could he be the love of my life?
God, I hope so.
* * *
After breakfast,Knox drives over to the campus to drop me off at the bookstore.
“I’m going to walk her to the store,” Knox tells his parents after he parks the car in the twenty-minute loading/unloading zone. “Give me a few.”
Before they can say anything, he shuts the door and smiles over at me. “I have something for you.”
I’m frowning. “What is it?”
He walks to the back of his car and pops open the trunk, pulling out a small gift bag that he hands over to me. “Open it and find out.”
I reach inside the bag and pull out a T-shirt that looks like our football team’s jerseys. On the back it says ‘Maguire’ across the top with his number on it. Eighty-eight.
“I want you to wear it to the game. I know we’re public and everyone knows we’re together, but I want them to know we’rereallytogether.” His expression turns serious. “I want to see you wear my number.”
“I love it.” I clutch the shirt to my chest, overwhelmed at his words. The look on his face. “Of course I’ll wear it.”
“Look inside. There’s more.”
Glancing into the bag, I see that there’s a pack of face paint. Red and white and gold, which are our school colors. “What’s the paint for?”
“I thought it might be fun for you. I got a ticket for Natalie too, and I know Blair is going to the game as well. You can all go together and paint your faces before the game. If you want.” He shrugs, suddenly seeming unsure.
Unsure is not a word I would ever use to describe Knox Maguire.
I shove the shirt back into the bag and wrap my arms around him, squeezing him tight. “I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He hugs me close, pressing his lips to my forehead. “My parents adore you.”
