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Six months later.
Bliss
If he bounces his knee one more time I’m going to stab him with whatever I find in my clutch. I mean, I kind of get it, I don’t know what it feels like being in the top three draft picks. But since we got to New York City, he has been on edge. He didn’t even want to talk about the possibilities during dinner earlier, said it would just jinx him. I know he wants to stay in L.A., but he has doubts, he’s afraid he’ll end up on the East Coast, across the country from me. I had to reassure him that nothing would change, I only had one more year left, and I would fly wherever he went. That didn’t seem to ease him at all. We have been in a good place since that first away game, I have been to almost every game since.
His parents are sitting on one side of the round table and Jackson’s parents on the other side. I guess the top picks get tables at the draft. This is all new to me, I’ve never even seen one on T.V. Even my parents are here, they had dinner with us and afterward decided to catch a Broadway show. My dad wanted to be here but there were limited seats, so he slumped along to the show. Cuba felt bad because he and my dad have become close, but he promised him a seat to whichever team he gets in the draft. All our fingers are crossed that he’ll be close.
His knee bounces again against my bare leg, and I nudge him softly making him turn to me.
“What’s up, babe?” He licks his lips nervously.
Poor thing. “Calm down.”
He pulls at his grey tie like a little kid throwing a tantrum. “I’m trying,” he pouts. “Why am I even wearing this stupid thing?”
I share a look with his mom before turning my attention back to my boyfriend. “Because this is a formal event, if it’s bothering you that much, take it off and unbutton only one button.”
He takes no time stripping it off his black button up and handing it to me. Taking it, I fold it up and stuff it in my bag. “Feel better?”
“No.” He takes a sip of water, his knee bouncing again. Cuba runs a hand over his short curls, and though he is nervous, he still looks sexy in his all black suit.
My hand squeezes his knee and he leans closer to me. “Calm down, everything will be fine. You’re getting drafted, baby. You worked so hard for this, any team is lucky to have you.”
His hazel eyes meet mine. “But I want to be where you are, Arrow.”
My hand caresses his cheek, trying to soothe him. “And I’ll go where you go, Bow,” I tell him again. “I can teach anywhere.”
His lips brush against mine. “I love you.”
“Always.” I lightly kiss him.
When we sit up straight, all eyes around the table are on us. Heat spreads through my cheeks, I’m still weird about kissing him in front of them. Especially his dad, Sam.
“You two make me sick,” he says. “Makes me want to throw up everywhere.”
Cuba laces his fingers through mine and I feel him easing up a bit. “Like you never kiss mom.”
Sam lifts an eyebrow. “I do a lot of things to mom.”
These comments are why I try to avoid any PDA when he is round. Monica slaps him, while the Emmett’s just shake their heads. I’m sure they are used to it by now, as for me, I’m still getting there.
Before Cuba can reply, the draft starts, the first pick is here in New York and he tightens his hand around mine. But his name isn’t called, it’s a guy from Arizona State, he jogs up the steps and onto the stage, his smile big as the commissioner shakes his hand and takes a picture with his team hat.
Now, L.A. is on the clock, and I know Cuba’s probably sweating bullets next to me. I don’t let go of his hand, I’ll never let go of his hand until he’s ready.
Cuba is talking to his dad quietly and I take this time to look around. Most tables are full, and you can point out the players at each one, all dressed to the T in suits. But there is a pair of dark chocolate eyes staring at me, and I do a double take, Aaron. His eyes narrow when he sees who I’m with. He grins, shaking his head and I don’t like it, I don’t like him, especially now that I know about Jackson. How dare he troll someone who died? So, I do a very unladylike gesture and show him my pretty bird.
Cuba almost catches me when he turns back around, thankfully he doesn't because the last thing I want is for him to see Aaron before he has to.
The clock is out and he’s back to squeezing my hand again, but I don’t mind. I’ll have him make up for it later. The commissioner comes back to the podium, and we are all on the edge of our seat because this is what he wants, and we all want him to be happy. He deserves this, he deserves to be here.
And just like I wished it, his name is called.
It takes Cuba a second to stand, he’s in shock as he hugs his parents then Jackson’s. Last, he pulls me in with shaky arms and I wrap around him tight.
“You did it, baby. I’m so proud of you.” I lift on my tippy toes, even in heels, and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Get up there!”
He kisses me back before letting me go and jogging up the steps to the stage. He smiles as he shakes the commissioner’s hand and he hands him his team hat of gold and purple. I struggle to get my camera up on my phone but manage to get a decent picture of them. I send it to my dad who I know could use this pick me up.
