Page 45 of The Check Down

“Carlos Butts. He’s number sixty-four.”

“No way am I gonna be Gina Butts,” the woman across from us wails.

More giggles and chuckles ring through the air. This time, I join in, letting a small laugh escape.

The quiet raven-haired woman next to the potential future Mrs. Butts consoles her with a pat on her shoulder, then looks my way. “I love what he and Griffin are doing on the sidelines.”

Paige introduced this woman as D’Angelo Sweeney’s longtime girlfriend, Charmaine. The group turns curious eyes my way, but again, I’m clueless.

“She doesn’t watch the games, y’all.” Paige waves it off like it’s no big deal, but there’s an intake of breath from somewhere at the table.

My cheeks heat in embarrassment as the group assesses me.

Charmaine angles forward. “Carlos and Griffin make it a point to stand next to each other on the sidelines as often as they can. When they do, their jerseys read—”

“Lacey Butts!” Gina cackles, sending the rest of the table into another bout of laughter.

Our food arrives, and the women go quiet. We’re all occupied with our salads or BLTs or fancy grilled cheeses for a few moments.

I swallow down a bite of my sandwich and peer around at the charming restaurant’s glass-bricked booths and the tables set among vintage hair dryers. “This place is so cute. It really used to be a beauty shop?”

“Mm-hmm.” Gina sets down her BLT. “Ms. Priscilla had her hair done here back in the day.”

“You should come to a game, Brynn. You can always sit with us.” This from Shannon, the center’s very pregnant wife.

“I’ve been before, I just…” I flush again, under the scrutiny of so many curious eyes. “Y’all are so different from the WAGs I met then.” Instantly, I cringe, regretting my bluntness, but they all smile or laugh.

“When did you hang with Blues’ WAGs?” Shannon asks, holding her fork in midair.

“I told y’all—she used to date Shane’s assistant.” Paige’s firm tone sends the message that I willnotbe elaborating on my ex.

I’m so thankful I could cry. I convey my appreciation with a nod, and she winks back.

With aharrumph, Gina points her fork at one woman at a time. “I guaran-damn-tee you she’s talking about Blair Barkley and her crew.”

Elise, the stunning redhead at the end of the table, pipes up. “Oh, honey, that bitch has been gone for a minute. Her husband was traded to Denver two seasons ago. With the HBIC gone, most of her minions have scattered. Though there are still a couple of hangers-on.” She eyes the rest of the women with a knowing glint.

There are head bobs andmm-hmms to confirm.

“Yeah, we’re way nicer than those heifers.” Charmaine’s smile shows off her adorable dimples.

Despite my best efforts, I can’t resist giving in to the kindness of these women. “Okay, okay,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll come to a game.”

The whole table breaks out in cheers, once again causing a blush to work its way up my neck and into my cheeks.

“The Laceys have a suite. You could sit with them if you don’t want to hang with the WAGs.” Shannon gives Paige a quick glance but focuses on me again. “What’s the deal with you and him, anyway?”

The group freezes, and Gina’s utensils clang against her plate like a gunshot. Paige shoots daggers at Shannon, who simply gives an abashed shrug and rearranges her salad with her fork.

The heat I felt a moment ago is nothing like the inferno that engulfs me from head to toe as they scrutinize me. With a thick swallow, I consider how to answer. Do I tell these virtual strangers that I have a huge crush on my friend and temporary roommate? A swarm-of-butterflies, can’t-breathe-when-he’s-near, makes-me-feel-sixteen-again crush that’s grown to epic proportions in the two weeks we’ve shared an address? Do I tell them that my life flashed before my eyes—in a good way—last week when he almost kissed me at that arcade? That he made my whole year when he scarfed down every bite of the pasta dish I spent hours on for his birthday? That when he asked for seconds, I almost wept with pride?

Do I tell them how terrified I am that my crush is turning into somethingmore? Something powerful and irrevocable?

Paige opens her mouth to come to my defense, but I place a hand on her forearm and swallow down my discomfort. “We’re friends. Friends who happen to be rooming together for the next few months. I’ve got a place lined up in the faculty townhomes, but it won’t be available until the semesteris over.”

By the pursed lips and raised brows, it’s obvious some of these women want to probe deeper, but they’re either too polite to try or scared of Paige’s mama bear vibes. I don’t blame them for being curious. How often do we hear that men and women can’t ever bejust friends?

Though I’d gladly leap if Griffin ever indicated that he’d jump with me, he’s made it clear that our relationship will remain firmly in the friend zone. But our newfound friendship is precious to me, and the last thing I want is to jeopardize it. It’s revived me, bringing me back to life like a wilting flower after a spring shower, and I’m soaking up every drop of companionship he offers.

---