Chapter 20 Stella
Stella
November
Dressed in an oversized sweater and a pair of black leggings, I nervously wait for Colt to pick me up for our date.
He told me to dress “comfy and warm.” He sent me a photo of himself in gray sweatpants and a black St. A’s hoodie, saying he knew I would try to overdress if I didn’t know what he was wearing.
He was right.
Even though my outfit didn’t feel like a first date outfit, I did curl my hair, something that I rarely do since it takes so long, and put on some light makeup. I was putting in my little gold hoops when a knock sounded on the door.
Fortunately, Summer’s nowhere to be found.
I open the door and am greeted by a bouquet of flowers.
Pale pink dahlias, forget-me-nots, bundles of baby’s breath, and artfully placed stems of lavender all wrapped in brown paper.
It’s the most beautiful—and undoubtedly expensive—bouquet of flowers I’ve ever been given.
“Colt!” I take the bouquet from him and hug it to my chest, smiling ear to ear. “These are gorgeous!”
He smiles at me warmly. “I’m glad you like them.”
I hurry to my room, grabbing a vase I keep on the shelf in my closet for rare occasions—usually, my mother sends me flowers when I win a tournament or something.
Filling it with water, I place the flowers gently inside, promising myself I’ll remember to trim the stems when I get home.
When I’m done, I face Colt, who’s leaning against the counter in the kitchen, right where I was when we first met.
“Where are we going?” I ask, genuinely curious about what he’s planned.
He gives me a stern tsk. “No spoilers, sweetheart. Come on.” He offers me a hand, interlacing our fingers when I accept.
Opening the passenger side door of his truck for me, he plants a quick kiss on my lips before telling me not to look in the backseat.
Of course, telling me that makes me want to turn around and look, but I resist.
He pulls up to a local pizza shop, walking in and picking up an order he evidently placed beforehand.
“So, we aren’t going out to eat. And we can’t take pizza in anywhere, so no movies or ice skating or bowling.” I’m truly stumped.
“Patience is a virtue, Stell.”
A short drive later, he’s pulling onto a dirt road that leads back into a line of trees.
“Oh God, you’re a serial killer, aren’t you. I knew no one was this perfect,” I say, feigning distress.
He huffs out a laugh. “Brat. Would you just give me the benefit of the doubt?”
“Most people don’t take their first date to the woods,” I point out.
“You’re from the south. I figured you’d appreciate a little time out of the city.”
I feel my eyes grow wide. I never told him about how I grew up, or about my grandparents’ farm, where I spent every day out in the fields and the trees. There’s no way he could’ve known I loved the outdoors.
“You told me you were from a small town. I took an educated guess,” he explains, reading my mind.
When we reach the trees, he pulls the truck into a small clearing. Before I can process what’s happening, he backs the truck up toward a white sheet stretched out between two trees.
“Come on,” he urges, hopping out of his seat with a grin.
I follow him to the bed of the truck, where he’s lowered the tailgate and is pulling blankets and pillows out of the backseat.
In the truck bed, an air mattress fits perfectly. It’s covered in a fitted sheet. When Colt climbs up to start arranging the pillows and blankets, my brain catches up to speed.
“You created a drive-in movie?” I ask, awed.
A cute blush creeps up his cheeks as if he thinks I’m going to laugh at his idea. “Yeah. I did.”
He set up a small projector on the toolbox of the truck, where it would shoot the light of the movie right over our heads and onto the makeshift screen. He has it plugged into his truck, a cord running through the back window.
“Colt, I don’t know what to say…this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.” I feel like I could start to tear up if I let myself. I’ve never had anyone put in this much effort for a date with me before.
He finishes setting everything up, finally jumping down to face me.
“You deserve an effort, Stella,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Now, come on, the food’s probably already half-cold.”
We cuddle up, leaning on a mountain of pillows against the toolbox, eating.
He connects his phone to the projector via Bluetooth and starts streaming The Princess Bride.
I gasp when I realize what he’s turned on because I love this movie.
He responds by saying, “It was rated the number one date movie of all time, according to Reddit.”
I laugh, leaning into him as the movie plays. The weather is a little chilly, in the high fifties, but warm for an early November night. Between the blankets and Colt’s ever-roasting body heat, I’m content.
Over the course of the night, we end up lying down, my head on his chest. We laugh, we kiss, we watch the movie. There are no sexual touches or awkward silences. We simply take time to enjoy one another’s company.
When the movie ends, we continue to lay there, basking in the blue light from the projector and staring at the stars.
We talk about everything that comes to mind.
I tell him about my sister, my mom, my grandparents and cousins.
He tells me about his teammates, his dad, all the dumb things he used to do with Beau and his other friends growing up.
It’s midnight before we leave the clearing. When he pulls up to my building, I think to ask, “Whose land were we on? We weren’t trespassing, were we?”
“No,” he chuckles. “It’s Beau’s parents’ land. Their house is on the other side of the trees. We just went in through the back. I have permission to be there.”
I nod, glad we didn’t commit any crimes tonight.
Colt walks me to my door, leaning forward with one arm on the frame, pressing my back to the cool wood.
“Thank you for tonight,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers in return.
“I had a great time,” I continue, inching my mouth closer to his.
“I’m glad,” he responds, spanning his large hand over my hip.
“Do you want to come inside?” I ask, breathless.
He smiles softly, then plants a warm, languid kiss on my mouth, caressing my lips, my tongue, with his.
“Not tonight,” he breathes as he pulls away.
“I want tonight to stay…” he trails off, trying to think of the right word to describe our evening, but I know what he’s trying to say. Tonight was different.
“Goodnight, Colt,” I whisper, reaching for the door handle.
“Goodnight, Stella.”
Weeks pass by in a rush. Colt and I go on many, many more dates.
We also have sex. A lot of sex.
We learn everything we possibly can about each other, both in the bedroom and outside of it.
Colt’s favorite color is green. Mine is blue.
My favorite food is cheeseburgers. His is wings, but only from this one specific restaurant just outside of town that has some special sauce.
Our next date is at that restaurant, where he makes me try the sauce. It’s good—but not as good as my burger.
Colt tries to tell me he’s afraid of drowning, but he’s not afraid of swimming. I tell him that everyone is afraid of drowning. No one goes drowning for fun.
He learns that I’m afraid of spiders. The type of afraid that makes me start sobbing, gagging, and hyperventilating. He promises a lifelong vendetta against arachnids in my honor.
I learn that he loves to fuck after he wins a game, but he loves it more after a loss, saying it helps ground him and regain his headspace.
I let him take charge, most of the time. Sometimes our trysts are rough, heated, and some are gentle and time-consuming.
By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, everyone assumes we’re officially a couple.
Though we haven’t formally labeled ourselves boyfriend/girlfriend, we both know that’s exactly what we are at this point.
Neither of us wants anyone else. Though it’s only been just over two months since the start of our fling-turned-relationship, we’re unapologetically obsessed with one another.
At some point during the passing weeks, I guess Colt decided to bring up Beau’s issue with me, and they got in a fight.
He wouldn’t explicitly tell me what was said, and I didn’t press for details.
I’m pretty sure Beau even left and hasn’t come back to the apartment; at least, I haven’t seen him.
I’m still unsure where I stand in terms of Colt’s friends.
The only one I’m sure likes me is Drew, and he likes everyone.
Booker intimidates me, but hasn’t been hostile.
If Drew is a Golden Retriever, Booker is a Doberman.
Beau, however…I can’t get a read on. Sometimes he greets me, engages in small talk.
Other times, usually when Colt’s around, he just stares at me from across the room.
He’s not been overly friendly with me since that first time I came to their apartment.
He went from being flirty and fun to frigid and distant, and I’m not entirely sure what I did to deserve it.
I fly black to Georgia for the holiday, anxiety wracking my body from the moment I step off the plane until I’m safely locked in my sister’s car.
I spend the entire time I’m home, Wednesday to Sunday, in my mom’s house.
I don’t go out to eat with any of my old friends.
I don’t go Black Friday shopping. I refuse to expose myself to a potential run-in with Dylan.
I was worried Colt wouldn’t have somewhere to go, but he assured me he was going to Beau’s parents for Thanksgiving.
He told me all about how they’ve always treated him like family, even though he feels as if he doesn’t belong.
He even has a guest room at the Warrens’ house that’s labeled his.
I’m glad he has somewhere to go and that he knows there are people in the world who love him.