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“It’s hilarious that you’re so invested in this.” I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle the laugh.
“I’m not invested, just observant.”
“Uh huh.” I smirk dismissively. “This is actually good stuff. I can tell the girls I have it on good authority that Dane won’t choose Shannon because he doesn’t look her in the eyes. Unless he’s not really in this for love, in which case he’ll choose her just to get the publicity.”
“On good authority? You aren’t going to tell them I said that?” His voice holds a note of panic.
“Of course, I am. Why not?”
“No way. If it comes out I know anything about this show I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“This is no different than me saying I have to suffer through football games because of you.” I goad him.
“It’s totally different. For one, you don’t like this show either. For two, your friends like football, so you won’t get any heat for watching it. And let’s not forget that you’re starting to like football and you know it.” He winks like he’s bested me.
“I’m not starting to like football.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.” I shake my head emphatically. “But I don’t mind it as much with you.” The admission is out before I consciously decide to make it. My heart thumps wildly in my chest, waiting for his response.
His whole body seems to tense up, and I wonder if I’ve said too much. Crossed a line that we didn’t identify, but somehow both know exists.
“What does that mean?” His voice is softer, cautious almost.
“It means you’re annoyingly happy when you watch football.”
“I don’t understand.” He watches me intently.
I’m really tempted to give another sarcastic response, glossing over the whole conversation so he can’t read anything into it. But it’s impossible to give him anything less than the truth when he looks at me as closely as he is right now, those amber eyes almost pleading.
“I mean that you love it so much you make it hard to hate. And even though I think it’s a horrible career choice, I admire that you already know what you want to do with your life. That makes it tolerable.”
“So, you like watching with me?” A hint of a smile teases his lip.
“I still don’t like the game.” I warn, trying to save face.
“Hey, this is progress. I’ll take it.” He smiles, so genuinely proud of himself that it’s hard not to smile back.
“So, um, while we’re on the subject. My dad offered tickets to the game on the twelfth. I’m not sure why he thinks seeing a game in person will be any better than watching it on TV,” Wes’ jaw drops progressively further as I talk, “but he said I should bring you. He offered to have us stay over the night before and take us early so we can tour the field and hang out on the sideline during warm-ups.”
“Seriously? He’d do that?” The sparkle in his eyes is so worth any amount of suffering through a football game.
“Yeah. Something about this possibly being his last season. He wants me to see it in person. Interested?” I feel my face heating up. I think I just asked him out, sort of.
“Wait, the eleventh is Homecoming, right? We’d have to miss that?”
“Um, yeah.” I was wondering if he’d connect those dots, and as much as I hate the idea of him going to the dance with someone, I can’t ask him to skip it. “You know what, I’ll ask about another game. You probably don’t want to miss your last homecoming.”
“Are you kidding? This is every guy’s dream. I’d much rather go to a game than the dance.”
My heartbeat kicks up a notch at the idea of him choosing me over a night with his friends, but it plummets as his words sink in. He didn’t say he’d rather spend time with me, just that he’d rather go to a game than a dance, and knowing how unreliable my dad can be, chances are Wes could end up missing both. I should never have asked him.
“No, forget I said anything.” I shake my head. “Another day would be better. There’s no guarantee my dad follows through, and I wouldn’t want you to end up missing the game and the dance. I’ll ask about a different game.”
“Sawyer.” He looks me right in the eye. “I could care less about the dance. If the game falls through it falls through. I’d still rather plan on the game and end up doing nothing with you than going to a dance I don’t want to be at.”
“Really?” I hold my breath, wondering if I heard that correctly.
