Page 106 of Shutout
My chest swells with something bubbly. I nuzzle her hair to whisper in her ear. “I like it when you’re proud of me.”
She digs her elbow against my ribs.
“Anyway. Congratulations and… thanks?” Kyle cringes, red tinging his cheeks and I don’t know if it’s because it was hard to say that, or because of how obvious it is that Liv and I are this close to tearing each others’ clothes off.
I drop my arm from around Liv to offer my hand. “Thanks, man. I’ll still be rooting for the Bolts to the end.” I end up shaking hands with all of them before they move on to attack the buffet table.
I pull at my shirt collar. “Well, that was something.”
“Why do you look so surprised?” Liv tilts her head, her eyes seeing right through my soul. “Did you really think you weren’t leaving a mark?”
“I—uh. Yeah. Maybe.” I shrug. “It’s bittersweet as hell. I’m not leaving any records or big legacy like your brother or Max.”
“The news article announcing your departure from the Bolts said you’re the shortest tenured captain in the organization so far. That’s a record.” She chuckles as I turn even more sour, but everything’s okay again when she takes me by the hand. “But seriously, as you can see, more people like you and want you to succeed than you think.”
“I’m just not used to it, I guess,” I say, trailing behind her on the way to the food table. There’s a line, of course. “My own dad hasn’t even called me after the whole…” I told her everything about that conversation a few days ago, so I don’t need to go into detail for her to know what I mean.
She shifts her hand to slide her fingers between mine, squeezing tight. “Maybe this time it’s because he doesn’t know how. Haven’t you thought about reaching out yourself?”
I have. A lot. But maybe I’m the one who doesn’t know how. This isn’t even like when I was trying to reach out to Olivia again after a year and a half friendship hiatus. This is worse. The last time I had an actual conversation with my dad was… I don’t know, sometime before he met his current wife?
Before I can find a way to voice this, someone cuts in linefor the buffet right before us. But it’s not anyone trying to get to the food first. Instead, a blur tackles my girlfriend.
“You look so gorgeous!” it screams. “And I told you he was putty for you!”
Liv’s face is smushed into the hug. “Uhh…”
“Liv’s the gorgeous one and I’m the putty? Sounds about right,” I jest.
Finally, the two girls tear themselves apart and the newcomer gives me the time of day. It turns out to be Dee Meyer from the Thunder Strikes.
“You guys make such a cute couple. And about damn time.” Dee shakes her head as if she couldn’t believe how long it took us to get our heads out of our asses. Meanwhile, I snap my fingers because she’s preaching to the choir. She offers a sharky smile. “But anyway, Tatum. Don’t get complacent now that you think Liv is all yours. We may go to parties and other places where tons of hot guys will drool over us.”
Liv presses her lips for a moment. “What are you doing?”
“She’s trying to see if I get uncomfortable or jealous.” I fold my arms. “And I sure am. You think I don’t know Liv’s hotter than the sun and that there are better guys out there?”
She glances at Liv. “He’s sharper than he looks.”
“Not really, I’m just honest.” I pluck Liv from her hold and bring her back toward me. “I know I have to work hard to make this a success.”
“As long as you know… We’ll be rooting for Liv, and since she seems to want you, I guess that means we’ll be rooting for you too.” Dee sticks her tongue out at me before waving her fingers and heading back to wherever she came from.
“My friends don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Liv says once they’re gone.
“I know. I’m glad they’ll look out for you when I’m gone.”
She sucks her lower lip in to bite it and keeps her attention on the buffet. Aside from pressing logistics about myimpending move, we haven’t talked very much about what life is going to be like afterward. This is one of those cases where it’s easier to go with the flow than to think too hard about things, which is more my area of expertise than Liv’s. I raise her hand and press my lips on the palm, before it’s our turn to grab plates.
It takes us longer than everyone else to peruse the offerings on the table. Each dish only has a little card listing the main ingredients but not all the details. We end up having to find someone from the catering staff to get enough information for Liv to select a few tiny tarts, a handful of fries, and a salad.
“Hold.” I demand once she serves herself. I swap out plates so I can comb through her salad with my fork. Then I swap again. “Coast clear.”
“Roger that, captain.” She spears a forkful of fries. “But I brought an EpiPen just in case.”
“Where?” I roam my eyes up and down her frame. Her clingy dress has no pockets, and I don’t expect any in her little jacket.
“Oh.” She facepalms with the hand carrying the fork. “In my clutch. But I left it in your car.”
