12. Tate
She said yes. Right there in front of her cousin, Ares, and my teammates who are doing a shitty job of pretending they aren’t eavesdropping on every damn thing that’s being said.
Subtlety is not a common trait among the UCR Raccoons. And we are like a group of gossipy old women. If I check my phone, I bet the group chat is ablaze with the four-one-one from the past twenty minutes.
Nothing stays a secret in our ranks for long.
She could have called me out. She could have told Ares that I lied about being her boyfriend, but instead, she’s playing along. I’m not sure what evil plan she has cooking up her sleeve, but for now, she’s my girlfriend, and I’m not letting that pass without a celebration.
“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to eat, Pitstop?”
Her mouth wiggles, like something’s on the tip of her tongue but she doesn’t answer, or look at either of us.
“Guac ‘n Roll is her favorite place to eat in Cedar Rapids.” Karlya’s declaration earns a glare from my Aphrodite.
When a sharp pain radiates through my shin, I yelp.
“Fuck. Sorry. That was meant for her.” Penelope’s face is bright red, and Karlya’s laughing so hard she might cry.
“Our place it is.” Ares nods. “It’s okay to go there, you know. It is the best food in the city.”
I nod. “I know. I just didn’t want to make it weird.”
Ares smiles. “You agreed to date him.” He jerks his head to Tate. “Things are already weird.”
The result of his jibe is Penelope bursting into such tinkling, melodic laughter that I never want it to stop. I contemplate asking one of my teammates to punch me in the face to see if that’ll work to make her laugh again.
“Today?” Ares glances at his phone. “Eloise says today, sí?”
I’m all for it happening today. Sooner the better so my girl doesn’t realize what she’s agreed to, freaks out, and backs out.
“Today’s good for me.” I keep my voice level, but inside I’m dancing in my underwear and fist pumping like whoa.
Penelope nods. “That works.” She turns to me, purses her lips, her nostrils flaring like I’m about to lose my favorite nut. “I don’t share my patatas bravas.” She points a finger at me. “If you want some, order your own.”
Ares nods, his face stern like there is no other acceptable way to bravas. It’s the most random Mexican restaurant, owned by a Dominican family, and serves Spanish food. But it works. Their blend of Latin flavors and their creativity in the kitchen is unparalleled in the area. There’s a reason it’s everyone’s favorite place to eat.
I nod, solemnly. “Scouts honor. I’ll get my own potatoes. Pick you up at six?”
“I can make it by myself you know.” Those eye rolls of hers should come with a warning label.
“It’s not like I have to go far to pick you up.”
She nods like I have a point. “Fine, I’ll pick you up at six. And if you so much as look sideways at my potatoes, I will stab your hand with my fork.”
Ares chuckles. “I like you.” He points his finger at her.
She beams at him. “I like you too, but alas we’re both taken. Tis not to be.” She covers her heart with her hand, and he laughs.
“You’re trouble, aren’t you?”
She nods gravely. “With a capital T.”
I insert myself into their conversation, not liking that he has all her attention. “Can confirm.”
Without looking at me, she slides a cup across the table in my direction. The mug of Drunk on Jealousy. Touché, Aphrodite, touché.
At five minutes to six there’s a sharp knock on my dorm room door, and every muscle in my body takes a collective sigh of relief.
If nothing else, she’s not standing me up. I admit, I’d been just a little anxious that she’d leave it until six and then tell me to go chew a cactus or something.
I suppose it’s still possible.
When I open the door, she takes my breath away. She’s wearing jeans, and a well-loved Flint Flames t-shirt. I can’t help laughing.
With a shake of my head, I click my tongue. “Only you would think to wear an enemy’s shirt to dinner at the de la Pe?a’s restaurant. Don’t come crying to me if Ares hits you with his blocker at dinner. Or steals your potatoes.” I shrug, and her cheek twitches like she’s fighting a laugh.
“Too much? Should I change?” Her blue eyes hold mine captive.
The temptation to tell her to get that dish rag off her beautiful body is so fucking strong, but somehow I bite it down and spare myself from getting a black eye. “No, Pitstop. You look perfect.”
She’s got eye liner, some pink on her cheeks, and a sweep of something shiny on her lips which serves only to keep my attention drifting back to her loathing pout. There’s also some stubborn glitter lingering in her hairline and on her chin. We’re both sparkling pretty hard.
When I pull the door closed behind me, I offer her my hand. If I’m going to get a date with the woman I want to get more dates with, I’m going to make her play the game.
She stares at the outstretched hand like it might have the Ebola virus smeared on my palm. “Really?”
I nod, hope tickling my stomach.
She sighs, slipping her hand into mine, and I’m pretty sure that if you searched the whole face of the planet earth right now, you couldn’t find a happier man.
The She Devil is holding my hand. Like... holding it. Not even trying to break it.
I’m so happy I could spit, but I won’t. I’ll play it cool.
It’s a short ride to Guac ‘n Roll, and it’s uncomfortably quiet. Brutally so. She doesn’t say a single word. Even the dulcet tones of whatever country singer has had his heart broken on the radio doesn’t fill the deafening silence enough not to hear it.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, you know.” It’s super hard to keep the hurt out of my voice, but I don’t want to force her into a situation she’s not comfortable in. As much as I want for her to want me, I don’t want to make her my prisoner all night.
I’d rather confess the truth to Ares and Eloise than have Penelope’s light dim over the course of the night.
Her head snaps to me. “What?”
“I can take you home again.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’d do that? You’d stand up your friends?”
“I mean, I’d probably go back for patatas bravas and get two portions just for fun. But I can take you home first if you’d rather.”
She snorts. “You think I’m letting you loose near those potatoes without me? Fat chance.”
“Does that mean you’re staying for dinner?”
She makes a ‘mhmm’ noise.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“About what?” She’s already turned to look back out the window.
“About what’s bothering you? You’re quiet.”
“I’m always quiet.” She flips her long hair over her shoulder.
I try. I do. But I can’t help the guffaw that bursts out of my mouth.
She smacks me with the back of her hand. “Jerk.”
“Too late now, we’re here.” I leap out of the car, circle the hood, and open her door, offering her my hand. “M’lady. Your potatoes await.”
She giggles, and I want more. It’s like I’ve heard the first line of a chart-topping hit, and I want the rest of the song.
Holding her hand, I lead her inside. When we get there, Ares and Eloise are sitting, staring doe-eyed across the table from each other. Was this a mistake? Is Penelope going to spend the night kicking my shins and ankles, and plotting a million new ways to kill me?
Probably.
I swallow hard, and lead her over to my friends. “Eloise, this is the lovely Penelope. Penelope, this is Eloise.”
Eloise nods enthusiastically. “I know. We’ve met at a game or two.”
When my eyes flex wide, Pitstop nudges me forward. “Sit, Satan. You’re hovering.”
So they already knew each other. Huh. From the look on Ares’s face he’s every bit as surprised as I am. Did the girls conspire to have dinner together tonight? Are they friends?
I have questions.
They don’t seem particularly well acquainted, conversation is slow to start and perhaps a little stilted. I’d guess it’s hard to have a real conversation during a hockey game. Eloise being a bit shy, and Penelope being quiet tonight doesn’t help, but it doesn’t take long before the server, Claudia, arrives and takes our drink order.
Penelope orders a blackberry margarita like she’s been waiting for it all day. Eloise asks for one too.
“Just a soda for me please, Claudia.”
Pitstop nods in approval, like maybe she appreciates the fact I’m not drinking anything while I’m her designated driver.
Plus, it doesn’t matter what I get points for, I want to collect them all. I’m determined, I’m going to melt the ice queen’s heart and show her that for every reason she has for hating me there are half a dozen reasons why she should love me.
Ares orders a mockolada—a pi?a colada mocktail—his commitment to his sobriety is so impressive.
“You’re super tall.” It’s Ares who takes the first shot when Claudia leaves us for a moment to decide on our food selections.
“You mean, for a woman, right? I’m only a few inches shorter than Tate, probably the same height as you.” She jerks her chin at our goaltender.
“Touché. You’re super tall, for a woman.”
“That’s quite the observation there, Ares. They don’t get much past you, do they?” She grins.
“Not when I’m on form.” He shakes his head. “Are we allowed to ask how you two met?”
“I threatened to beat him with my taco.”
It’s a vastly different account of what actually happened, so much so, I can’t help but laugh.
“Halloween party,” she continues. “I had a giant taco on my head.”
Ares groans. “Amigo, you didn’t compliment her taco.” He holds up his hand. “Don’t answer, I know you well enough to know the answer already.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “She didn’t fall for it. It’s taken her a year to agree to date me.”
Eloise’s eyes spring wide with curiosity, but she doesn’t say anything. And when Claudia returns, we order damn near everything on the menu. Their guacamole is state renowned, so we order a bucket of that with their trio of salsas. There are nine kinds of tacos on the menu, and we ask for an order of each of them.
I can’t wait to try the ancho mushroom one, it’s new, and I haven’t yet had the pleasure.
Eloise asks for the crispy cauliflower bites, they’re buttermilk-battered florets, with roast jalape?o aioli. My mouth waters when I read the description, so we get two.
We also get two orders of sweet patatas bravas. Though my girl goes back on what she said and offers to share with Eloise. I guess it’s Vagina Privilege or something. I’m pretty sure if I touched those potatoes she’d stab me, just as she said.
Ares thanks Claudia, hands over our menus, and we get back to chatting. I haven’t yet told Penelope that he’s probably going to comp the food at the end of the meal. I have a feeling she’s ready to fight me to pay for her share—despite the fact this is a date, and she should just let me pay for her damn potatoes—she’s in for a shock when she discovers it’s Ares, not me, she has to battle with.
I can’t wait.
The meal is exceptional, as always. And when Abuelita de la Pe?a comes out with giant slabs of her tres leches cake, I have to get up and hug her. She grabs me by the cheeks and squeezes. “You’re too skinny, Tate. You’ve been gone too long. Abuelita needs to fatten you up.” She pinches my stomach making Pitstop giggle.
“All bones.” Abuelita tuts. “Nieto, this is no good.” She scolds Ares who shakes his head.
By the time we get back to the cars, the girls have a warm buzz from blackberry margaritas. Eloise and Penelope hug so hard they look like they might stop breathing. “Let’s do this again, okay?” Eloise wags a finger at me. “Get her home safe.”
I toss her a playful salute. “Yes ma’am.”
We’ve had a delightful evening together, so much so I’m using words like delightful. And when I open the car door to let Penelope climb inside, I’m half-afraid she’s hiding a shiv up her sleeve. It’s all been beyond civil, amicable even, and the whole way back to the dorm room I toss cautious glances her way like she’s a cobra ready to strike.