Page 18 of Totally Geeked

“I’m not Gordie, but I’m in the book. Look. That there’s me,” I tell her, pointing to the page, and her eyes go wide.

“Cool,” she exclaims as her mother takes her signed copy from Arlo and leaves.

“Sorry, was that okay, telling them it was me?” I ask Arlo. What if he didn’t want people to know he based the characters on real players? He doesn’t like all eyes on him, but maybe he doesn’t want me taking away any of his attention either.

“I love that you want people to know that it’s you. Hopefully, the rest of the players who made it into the book feel the same way.”

“They will. Oh, training starts up soon. Maybe Gordon can have the boys over and you can show them your sketches of them. They’d love to see them. I seriously need to get a copy of that one you did of me. It needs to go on my wall.”

“You want to frame it?”

“It’s art, of course, it should be framed and put on a wall.”

We’re interrupted by the next child, and they continue on in a steady stream for half an hour until everyone has their copies signed and the library takes a few extra photos for their newsletter and website.

“Please come back anytime and read for the children, that was wonderful,” the librarian says before we leave.

“Lunch?” Arlo asks, climbing into the passenger side of the truck.

“Where do you want to go?”

“How about back to Gordon’s? I can make us something.”

“You want to cook?” I ask, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road. I glance down at his casted wrist.

“Oh, right. I forget it’s there sometimes. That’s kind of how I ended up in the hospital the second time, though, so probably best I wait to prove I’m good in the kitchen. How about pizza? There's a place only a few blocks away,Louies?”

“Pizza sounds great, and when your cast comes off, you can totally show me how good you are…” His cheeks flame, and I hurriedly add to the sentence. “In the kitchen, I mean. Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to flirt. It’s a hard habit to break.”

“Why would you want to break it?” Arlo asks, his voice barely audible, and his gaze locked on the buildings passing by his window.

“I guess it hasn’t really helped me to attract the right kind of guy, and I’m looking to change that.”

“Your flirting brought you bad guys?” he asks, finally turning to look my way. Where I expected his nervous smile, I find a frown. “I’m not sure I follow.”

I slow as the lights change color and stop behind a convertible Porsche.

“Okay, so see that car there,” I say, pointing out the windshield. He follows my direction and nods. “Well, it’s shiny, and pretty, and loud, and sexy and you think, that’s exactly what you want to be, and when you show everyone how awesome you are, they will all want to be with you. But then they get in and it’s fun for a while, but you can’t take it off road, it doesn’t fit any car seats for kids, it’s built for a good time, do you know what I mean?”

“So your flirting was attracting Porsche men?”

“Exactly.” The light changes to green, and the convertible speeds off. “I need someone with substance. I need to find me a nice Buick guy.”

He laughs.

“What?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes on the road.

“My grandfather drove a Buick. It’s still in Gordon’s garage.”

I laugh, too.

“Okay, a Buick guy who’s between the ages of twenty-seven and forty.”

“At least you know how to flirt. I’ve never been good at that.”

“I’ll teach you,” I offer before I realize what the hell I’m saying.

“Really?”

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