Chapter 11
Randy
I have a date and I, Randy Harrison, am nervous.
This is so stupid; we’ve already slept together, why am I worried? Seriously, I’m sweating and have changed my dark-colored, pit-stained shirt for a lighter color.
I lift my arms for the fifth time in my full-length mirror to check for sweat when I hear a knock at the door.
“It’s open,” I yell, already knowing who it is with such a gentle knock. Plus, the guys I live with usually barge in if they know I don’t have a girl in here. Let’s face it, they have seen it all before in the locker room.
“I just wanted to check to see how you’re going?”
“That’s sweet, Shelby, but you know me, I got this,” I say, letting the charisma pour off me like sweat. Shit, I’m sweating again.
I wipe the beads off my forehead. “Really? Because you look like you just climbed Uluru.”
I turn away from the mirror and face her. “Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous.” I throw my arms out to the sides and look down at myself. “Do I look okay?”
She fully enters my room with her bare feet as she makes her way across the hardwood floor. Her hair is up in a bird’s nest, and she wears light makeup, even though she got changed into loose shorts and one of Christian’s shirts hours ago.
“You look good.”
I look down at her and try to study her face, as her eyes rake over my wardrobe choice. “Just good?”
“Well, do you usually where shirts like that?” She points at me.
I look down at my collared shirt, rolled up to my forearms. “Maybe once to a wedding, or was it a funeral?” I shrug. “For a guy, I’m pretty sure it’s the same thing,” I joke.
She frowns at my comment, but sneaks out a smile that she tried not to. “Where are you going on your date?”
“Oh no, I’m not telling you that. I don’t want Christian crashing my date like I did yours.” I crouch a bit to get eye level with her. “That wasn’t planned, by the way.”
“I know.”
“But fuck if I wasn’t going to take advantage of it,” I snort.
She picks up some shirts I have tossed onto my bed, half I have tried on, and half I haven’t. “Oh, I know that too.”
“Sorry, Shelby.”
“It’s cool, I had a great night, plus…” she raises her eyebrows to me and pats my chest. “If I hadn’t met you that night, I don’t think I would have had the confidence to challenge your PlayStation abilities the next morning.
Which, by the way, are subpar to mine, and I wouldn’t be counting down to your next football game. ”
Shelby 1, Randy 0.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I quip, turning back to the mirror.
“I know you’re trying to impress her, which is sweet, but you also need to wear what makes you comfortable.”
“You’re saying ditch the collared shirt?”
“Are you going to a church or the cemetery?”
“Wasn’t planning on it, but you never know where the night might lead us.” I wink, then think for a moment. “You’re right,” I say, pulling the shirt over my head and throwing it on the bed.
She makes her way to my closet, already knowing I’m going to ask for her opinion.
She slides the coat hangers back and forth and pulls out a shirt hidden between two jackets.
It’s a shirt my mother gave me the last time I visited her.
It’s a deep burgundy, and I already know it’s perfect before she says anything.
She turns to face me, taking the shirt off the hanger. “It’s cute you know…that you’re nervous. It means you care,” she says, handing me the shirt.
“Whatever, Shelby,” I say, my voice holding a playful defiance as I try to reclaim my confidence.
“Well,” she smiles as her eyes rake down my shirtless body. “Have an amazing night and thanks for the pre-show.” She slaps my right pec. “I’ll see that body again soon on the jumbotron.” She smirks, exiting my room.
Shelby 2, Randy 0.
I jump in my truck and reach for my phone when it vibrates in my pocket.
Christian: The star QB has a date. Making plays on and off the field. Good luck, bro.
Me: Luck is for rookies. I’ve got this date and our next win locked tighter than my spiral.
Christian: Really, cause Shelby said you were sweating bullets.
I look down at my armpits. No sweat yet. I crank the air on and suck in a deep breath because fuck, I’m still nervous.
Walsh: Requesting some country music for our next pre-game sesh.
Me: Going to war, not a rodeo!
Seth: How do I leave this group chat?
Christian: Don’t act like u weren’t singing along 2 Morgan Wallen.
Me: That was 1 time!
Seth: Just click on the name of the group and click leave group? Right?
Walsh: “Last night we let the liquor talk….”
Seth: *Left the group*
I pull up outside Rachel’s house and make my way to the front door. A few seconds later, she greets me wearing a cute blue and white floral dress that just reaches her knee. She has modest heels on adding to her elegance, and her smile sends warmth racing through my body.
We’ve had mind-blowing sex three times, so good it’s carved deep into my memory.
Each time I think of one of our sex sessions, I think yup that was the best. The first time we had sex was the best, but God when she rode my dick so perfectly in my truck, her tits bounding in her black bra while she griped the steering wheel behind her, the best. But when she let me take her from behind, my hands around her neck—holy shit.
I kept having to look at my desk to distract myself from finishing too soon.
All of them were perfect, each different, but all incredible, a favorite can’t be decided.
So, I’m assuming since even though it is the first date, a kiss to the lips should be permitted.
“Hey,” I greet, placing a kiss to her lips.
I don’t hesitate with the kiss because even though I question myself internally, on the outside I show nothing but charisma and self-assurance.
The town’s star quarterback, campus’s playboy on his dream ride to the NFL, surrounded by fans who love and adore him.
I carry myself with certainty because it is expected, but when I am around her and it’s just us two, I’m not that person, I’m just…
me…just a boy wanting to get to know the girl.
I might be the person people chase and strive to get attention from, but right now I just want to fall to my knees in front of this woman and declare myself to her and only her.
The past week getting to know Rachel has been nothing short of extraordinary.
The way she’s affecting me, shifting something in me, is both unexpected and fucking thrilling.
I reach for her hand as I open the truck door, it’s a bit of an effort to get into my truck, but I always love the fact I can check out her ass while I help her in.
“Thank you.”
I push the door shut once she is safely in and jog around the front of my car, jumping into the driver’s seat. Taking a beat to really look at her under the soft glow of the car lights before I shut the door. She’s exactly how I knew she’d be—stunning.
“You look gorgeous.” I smile across to her, my hand gently brushing her exposed knee.
She smiles. “Thank you. You look pretty dashing yourself.”
I shoot her my best grin, the one I know makes girls swoon and sends women to their knees.
And off we go.
The place I chose to take Rachel to is a quaint Italian restaurant located approximately twenty minutes from town.
It’s a quiet establishment, almost a romantic setting; although, lots of families go there to enjoy their traditional meals.
My mom and I have been coming to this place for years.
It's our go-to spot, and we really like the owners, who are always super welcoming. It’s also just enough out of the way that I can eat in peace.
When I’m catching up with Mom, there is nothing worse than having ladies hitting on you, or male friends talking about what trouble you got into at the last party.
Here, surrounded by red candles placed on the center of gray-checked tablecloths, I can have some peace and can enjoy the best pasta with my mom.
“Randy!” I get a big welcome from the owner Franco when he spots me entering. “Liliana!” he calls, then rambles something together in Italian I have no hope of understanding.
It has Liliana exiting the kitchen in a rush and walking over to me, her arms wide and ready for the flamboyant hugs she is known for. I embrace her back as she grabs at my cheeks. “Such a handsome boy!” She releases my face and looks to Rachel. “And who is this bella?”
“Liliana, this is Rachel,” I answer as she wraps Rachel in a hug, Rachel leans into her embrace. “Rachel, this is Liliana and her husband Franco, they own this place.”
Rachel greets them with a warm smile after being released from Liliana’s clutches.
“Beautiful, beautiful. Come sit!” The overly welcome Liliana ushers us over to a section at the back of the restaurant. “Your table is right over here.”
We take our seats as Liliana fusses over us, filling our water glasses and taking our drink orders. Once the motherly fussing is over and Liliana retreats to the kitchen, I notice the curious look Rachel is giving me.
“What?”
“Oh nothing, I’m just trying to figure out exactly how many dates you have had here.”
“Oh, I know exactly how many!”
“Really? Bullshit!” She smirks, a flicker of doubt dancing in her eyes, daring me to convince her otherwise.
I laugh at her challenge. “I do, honestly, because you are my first.”
She cocks an eyebrow, giving me a look that says, ‘There is no way in hell I believe you.’
“Honestly.” I laugh. “Well, does my mom count as a date?”
“No.”
“Then you are my first.”
“Oh.” The word barely leaves her lips.
“Yeah, my mom and I have been coming here for years, even before I started college. It works well now since it's halfway between us, and that’s why the owners know me so well.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed what I did.” She grabs her glass and takes a sip, a little knit in her brow.
“It’s fine; just don’t tell my mom, she may get jealous.” I shrug. “You know cause of all the other random women I’m bringing here behind her back,” I joke.