CHAPTER 24 #2
Since we sort of announced our “relationship” last night, I decided to post the picture I took of us in the car, with his hand on my thigh. My caption was simple: “Best date ever. Save the Flamingos.”
I left it at that, and from the looks of it, that’s all it took. There are already over two thousand comments.
Good Lord.
I shake my head and bring my attention back to the movie just as my phone buzzes with a text.
When Graydon’s name appears, I can’t hold back my smile or ignore how seeing his name feels like a bunch of tiny fireflies just lit up in my stomach.
Graydon: Best date ever, huh?
Ignoring the movie completely, I sit cross-legged, drag a pillow on top of my lap, and text him back.
Maple: You checking up on our social media?
Graydon: Just making sure you’re not posting anything embarrassing.
Maple: I thought you said you didn’t have any embarrassing pictures.
Graydon: Who knows what you’re doing when I’m washing dishes.
Maple: It’s not taking embarrassing pictures of you, that’s for sure.
Graydon: And what exactly is it that you do?
Stare at your ass.
Your back muscles.
Allow myself to wonder what it would be like to be one of those dishes that you’re rubbing…
Maple: Considering all the ways I can save flamingos.
Graydon: Uh-huh, that’s not what your eyes on my ass were saying the other day.
I gasp and then chuckle.
When he’s like this, flirty and not so intense, he really is so much fun to be around. Kind of addictive.
Maple: Like you’re one to speak. I’ve caught you a few times.
Graydon: I’ve been staring at your ass since day one. You thought I was making fun of your pants when I was just covering up for being caught looking at you.
Umm…what?
Maple: Wait, seriously?
Graydon: Yup.
Maple: I thought…I thought you assumed I was some kind of loser with high-water pants.
Graydon: Not even close.
Maple: Wow, okay. This is news to me.
Graydon: Shouldn’t be. Looking at some of the pics Gretchen released. Seems like I haven’t stopped staring either.
Maple: I didn’t see any of you staring at my ass.
Graydon: [Link] Second photo.
I pull up the link he sent me and scroll to the second picture. It’s of me shaking the hand of someone, and sure enough, he’s there, staring down at my ass.
Graydon: That dress was unreal last night. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.
Oh God.
Oh God…that’s…he’s…oh God, he’s flirting, and I just don’t know if I’m equipped for this.
Graydon: This is where you say my suit was unreal as well.
I chuckle, grateful that he can so effortlessly ease the nerves I’m feeling.
Maple: Maybe I didn’t think it was.
Graydon: Liar.
Maple: Perhaps.
Graydon: What are you doing tonight?
Maple: Cashing in on a promise I made myself.
Graydon: And what kind of promise is that?
Maple: Movie date with myself that includes popcorn and Butterfinger Bites (don’t judge me) as dinner.
Graydon: Why would I judge you?
Maple: Because you’re all about the protein intake.
Graydon: I like sweets.
Maple: Yeah, okay. What kind?
Graydon: I like chocolate.
Maple: Really?
Graydon: Do you find that surprising?
Maple: A little. I just assumed you ate broccoli for dessert.
Graydon: Love the opinions you have of me.
Maple: LOL. Sorry. Just for someone with that much muscle mass, I wouldn’t think you’d eat chocolate.
Graydon: It’s not every day, but when I indulge, I go for something like a chocolate lava cake.
Maple: That’s…that’s actually kind of cute.
Graydon: Nothing about me is cute.
Maple: Your chocolate lava cake is.
Graydon: Okay, maybe one thing. The rest of me is not cute.
Maple: Sooooo next time I see you, you don’t want me saying how cute you look in your little football helmet?
Graydon: You’re fucking with me.
Maple: LOL. Sorry, forgot you’re supposed to look intimidating.
Graydon: I am intimidating. I’ve made grown men cry.
Maple: Grown men or just OC?
Graydon: Both.
Maple: Not that I like to boost your ego, but I honestly believe you’ve made grown men cry. I’ve seen the way your teeth snap when you’re at practice, like you’re ready to bite into someone’s leg.
Graydon: If I didn’t have a mouth guard, I probably would do some biting.
Maple: Have you always been this…violent?
Graydon: No.
Maple: What changed?
Graydon: Nothing you need to worry about.
Maple: Is that your nice way of saying you don’t want to talk about it?
Graydon: Precisely.
Maple: I guess you’ll always remain a mystery to me.
Graydon: Nah, you know what you need to know.
Maple: You think I know enough?
Graydon: Yeah.
Maple: Okay, well…here is what I do know. You enjoy wearing pink cleaning gloves because they make your hands look dainty.
Graydon: Nothing can make my hands look dainty.
Maple: You squeal in excitement when you tackle someone. Hands shaking, ass twerking…high-pitched squeals.
Graydon: Are you sure you’re talking about me?
Maple: And in the mornings, when you pick me up, you pretend to be drinking coffee but it’s really a Shirley Temple. Don’t even deny it, I’ve seen you sipping that cherry.
Graydon: Trust me, if you saw me “sipping” on a cherry, you would know it.
My cheeks flame as I stare down at his innuendo, unsure how to really respond.
I can be flirty, but…dirty? That’s a whole different level.
Maple: Oh, um, that’s nice. I like cherries.
Graydon: Baker, could you be more awkward?
Maple: I wasn’t ready for you to talk about sipping on cherries.
Graydon: You brought it up.
Maple: I was talking about Shirley Temples, not…you know.
Graydon: Can’t even say it, can you?
Maple: I don’t know what you’re referring to.
Graydon: Liar.
God, dare I say it? No, I can’t.
Can I?
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
My stomach is twisted in all kinds of knots.
And for the first time in a long time, maybe even in forever, I feel giddy…talking to a man.
Graydon: I can still smell the bird on me, even after a shower.
Maple: You are such a liar.
Graydon: It’s never leaving my nose.
Maple: You were around them for maybe five minutes.
Graydon: Five minutes too long. They were eyeing my watch.
Maple: I told you not to wear anything shiny.
Graydon: Didn’t think they were going to try to rob me!
Maple: LOL. That’s very dramatic of you, seems like you’ve been hanging out with OC for too long.
Graydon: You’re right. He’s dead to me now.
Maple: He’ll be crushed.
Graydon: Not my problem.
Maple: You put on such a front, but I know you secretly like him. Just admit it.
Graydon: Never.
Maple: Stubborn.
Graydon: Maybe. So…what are you doing?
Maple: Eating some homemade lasagna.
Graydon: And you didn’t offer me any?
Maple: Didn’t cross my mind.
Graydon: Ouch, Baker. That stings.
Maple: What stings worse, the bird smell in your nose, or the lasagna?
Graydon: Lasagna, because that means I could have seen you again…
Graydon: Did you really think you were going to beat me in a twenty-yard dash today?
Maple: *Currently in an Epsom salt bath* Wouldn’t have hurt you to lay off the pedal for your PR girlfriend.
Graydon: And get shit from everyone, including my dad? I’m good.
Maple: You didn’t even give me a chance.
Graydon: Exactly.
Maple: Just cruel.
Graydon: Did you really think a zookeeper could outrun a professional football player?
Maple: A girl can dream.
Graydon: Pick a different dream.
Maple: What do you suggest?
Graydon: Maybe more tacos on the back of a pickup truck?
Maple: Why would I dream about that when it already happened?
Graydon: Assumed you would want it to happen again.
Maple: Bold assumption.
Graydon: Nah, accurate one. I know you’re looking for more time with me.
Maple: How do you figure?
Graydon: The way you licked your lips when I came to pick you up this morning.
Graydon: After a long day at the zoo, what do you do to unwind?
Maple: Wow, it almost seems like you care about my day.
Graydon: Maybe I do.
Maple: Is that you admitting it?
Graydon: In a roundabout way.
Maple: Should I answer in a roundabout way?
Graydon: Not recommended.
Maple: Usually shower and figure out what I’m going to eat. Nothing too exciting.
Graydon: The shower seems exciting.
Maple: Because of getting the smell off me?
Graydon: Not what I was thinking, but sure.
Maple: And what were you thinking?
Graydon: Too much to text.
Maple: Voice message it.
Graydon: Pining to hear my voice, Baker?
Maple: No.
Graydon: Liar.
Maple: Please, don’t be insufferable tonight like every other night you’ve texted me.
Graydon: Insufferable, huh? And here I thought I was flirting…
Graydon: What are you doing, Baker?
Maple: Haven’t you already used that as an opening line this week?
Graydon: Never claimed to be creative.
Maple: LOL. So, what am I doing? Well, I’m enjoying a girl dinner that consists of popcorn and candy once again and I’m gearing up to watch a movie. What are you doing right now?
Graydon: Talking to you.
Maple: You don’t have anything else going on?
Graydon: Not really. Tired from practice. Just ate a steak, now watching the Bombers game.
Maple: Aw, you watch Bennett?
Graydon: Yeah, figured I might as well.
Maple: Is he good?
Graydon: Really fucking good. What movie are you watching?
Maple: The Wedding Singer. One of my all-time favorites.
Graydon: Never seen it.
Maple: Why did I know you were going to say that?
Graydon: Guess I’m predictable.
Maple: You’re not in the slightest, actually. You’re very unpredictable.
Graydon: How so?
Maple: Well, for one, never in my life would I have thought that you’d send me thirst traps.
Graydon: Is that you fishing for one? Because all you have to do is ask.
My phone buzzes again, and a picture of him lights up my screen.
Sigh.
Wet and rumpled, his hair is unstyled and falling every which way, including a few strands over his forehead. Chest on full display, he’s sitting on his couch in a pair of sweatpants with the TV remote next to him while he casually smirks.
Despite my eyes roaming over his impressively cut chest, I take a moment to study his beautiful eyes.
Dark, mysterious, but also with a hint of kindness.
He’s so handsome. The sharp angles of his face may be intimidating to an opponent, but they intrigue me.
They make me want to run my fingers over them and create a softness along the hard edges.
Graydon: Your turn.
Maple: You don’t want a pic.
Graydon: Then why the hell did I ask?
I press my lips together, nerves jumbling inside me.
Should I send him one?
Why the hell not?
I sit taller, angle the phone, and show off my shirt so he can see what it says. When I’m satisfied, I snap the pic, then examine it quickly to decide whether I should send it.
Hair looks good, face looks good. Shirt looks…oh God, my nipples are hard and pressing against the fabric.
I nibble on the corner of my lip, wondering if I should send it or not, but then I just say “fuck it” in my head and press send as insecurity laces my insides.
I wait for a response.
And wait.
And after what feels like ten minutes but is really more like ten seconds, he texts back.
Graydon: Um, pretty sure I was topless in mine.
My cheeks flame with heat as I scoot down lower on the couch, attempting to…hide? I don’t know what I’m trying to do. This entire week, he’s been doing a whole lot to my body without actually doing anything. Just using his words.
Graydon: Also…single and ready to flamingo? Last time I checked, you aren’t single.
God, I hate that I’m smiling like a fool.
Maple: Fictitiously, I’m not single. Also, do you really think I’m going to send you a topless photo?
Graydon: A man can dream.
My teeth roll over my bottom lip, and my courage starts to ramp up because from the kiss the night of the fundraiser, to the touching and all the flirty texts he’s sent, there’s clearly something here.
There’s interest on his end, and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t interest on mine. Because there is.
And it’s been a really long time since I’ve been on a date or have even thought about dating someone. I mean, there was a time when I was in Peru and had a bad crush on Hank, but I realized that since we were working together with no end in sight, it would be a bad idea.
But Graydon’s different.
I’ve never met someone like him before.
Broody, but sweet.
Introverted, yet flirty.
Standoffish, yet so attentive.
He’s a mystery that I want to solve.
And after the night of the fundraiser, the kiss, the way he pressed his hand into my skin, this week’s nighttime text messages, I think I’ve found an opening, and…I’m going to take it.
Maple: What are you doing tomorrow? Maybe we can get brunch or something.
After I hit send, I toss my phone to the side and cover my eyes. Oh my God, I can’t believe I just asked him out on a date.
What if…what if he says no?
What if I’m reading him all wrong?
I don’t think I’ll ever recover from the embarrassment.
My phone buzzes, making my nerves scream with dread.
Please don’t be a no.
Please don’t be a no…
I pick up my phone and go to his text.
Graydon: I have plans, but I’ll pick you up Monday for training camp.
My heart sinks as my imagination considers every possible scenario for what he’d be doing on a Sunday.
I’m trying to convince myself that it has nothing to do with me.
That he’s probably going to hang out with friends or something, given that it’s his only day off.
Why would he want to hang out with me when he sees me every day of the week?
But it doesn’t change the fact that I feel like an idiot for even asking.
Willing the embarrassment and tears not to take over, I let out a deep breath and text him back.
Maple: Cool, yeah, I was thinking about doing my own brunch anyway. Got some fresh strawberries that I need to cut up.
Fresh strawberries? Why?
That’s such a stupid thing to say.
And he must think it too because he doesn’t text back right away. Every second that ticks by, I feel more and more embarrassed.
He jokes around about a topless pic, and I take that as free rein to ask him out? What is wrong with me?
I set my phone down and stare blankly at the TV, Adam Sandler’s voice barely registering as tears spring to my eyes from humiliation. After a few more minutes, my phone finally buzzes, and I hate that I’m so quick to pick it up.
Graydon: Bennett just hit a two-run home run.
Okay, we’re just going to skirt right around the awkward situation of me asking him out and him rejecting me. That’s cool. I’m good with that.
Maple: Cool. Adam Sandler just helped an underage drinker puke into a dumpster.
Graydon: Umm…okay.
I groan and then toss my phone again.
Yup, I’m done for the night.