Page 69 of Romancing the Grump
It felt weird to be at the Summit last night, hugging you after the game, then go home and not talk to you anymore.
I mean, I know it’s fake. But what if when we’re not faking it in public, we’re still friends in private? That way it won’t be weird if we happen to text each other.
I know you’re practicing right now, so you can’t respond. But I’m just going to assume you’ll think this is a good idea and I’m going to ask you—AS A FRIEND—if you’re going to be at Eli’s tonight.
Because Gracie and Bailey want me to come, but I think it would be more fun if you were also there.
No pressure, I promise. Just if you want.
I drop onto the bench in the locker room, chuckling as I read over her texts a second time. I’m only half out of my gear, and I desperately need a shower, but somehow, this feels more important. It’s funny that we’ve been having the same thoughts, feeling the same impulse to reach out.
I was already planning to go to Eli’s, mostly because I hoped she’d be there. But we also rarely have Friday nights off when we aren’t on the road. It’s nice to hang out when we don’t have the pressure of a game happening twenty-four hours later.
Nathan
I’ll be at Eli’s. And I feel good about texting as friends.
I tap my phone into my palm, debating whether I want to say more. But then I just do it. She’s clearly texting exactly what she’s thinking. It can’t hurt for me to do the same thing.
I pull up the message thread and send her one more line.
Text whenever you want. I like it when you do.
After a quick shower at the Summit, I head home to get ready, spending an extra fifteen minutes trimming my beard and picking out clothes that look like I actually care. I even use a blow dryer on my hair, something my barber says I should do when I want it to look shiny instead of stringy.
It works. And I’m mad about it.
I look like I belong on one of those drugstore boxes of men’s hair dye.
I force myself to leave it alone on the drive over, but I finally cave outside Eli’s front door and pull my hair back into a bun. I’m not supposed to be trying this hard.
I’m not supposed to?—
In front of me, the door swings open, and Summer leans onto the porch, grabbing my arm and yanking me inside. She doesn’t let go until she’s dragged me across Eli’s kitchen and into what I think must be his pantry, shutting the door behind us.
Eli’s very dark, verysmallpantry.
“Hi,” Summer says from directly in front of me. We aren’t touching, and I can’t see her, not in the small crack of light seeping in under the door, but I can feel the warmth of her, so I know she’s standing close.
“Hello,” I say slowly.
“Sorry. I know this is weird. I couldn’t think of where else to take you. The bathroom felt more weird, and a bedroomseemed way too suggestive. I maybe underestimated your size though. I didn’t realize we’d be standing so close.”
I’d be fine if we were standing closer.
“Anyway, I just want to talk to you for a second,” she continues.
“And we’re going to do it in the dark?”
“I don’t think there’s a light in here,” she says, then I hear her rummaging around like she’s looking for a switch. “Wait. Found it.” By the sound of it, she flips the switch a few times, the quiet click repeating over and over, but we’re still plunged in darkness, so whatever that switch goes to, it’s not the light.
“Huh. Maybe the bulb blew out.”
“This is definitely less suggestive than the bedroom,” I deadpan. “Two people hiding in a dark pantry doesn’t look suspicious at all.”
She lets out a little laugh. “You’re worried they’ll think we’re playing seven minutes in heaven?”
“Seven minutes in what?”
