Chapter 14
Fourteen
Tedi
Thankfully, Decker agreed to meet me for dinner. I’m his best friends’ older sister, and I think he was always a little scared of me when he was younger.
He suggested the restaurant, and I thought for sure I would end up at a wing place or a sports bar, but it’s a cozy Mexican restaurant nestled in a quieter part of the city.
The hostess seated me by the window after I gave her Decker’s name. As I wait for him, I admire the string lights and decorative paper banners hanging from the ceiling. The walls are painted in hues of orange, turquoise, and yellow, and there are rustic wooden shelves filled with clay pottery and small succulents. The smell of warm tortillas fills the quaint space.
I order a pitcher of sangria because I’m going to need a little alcoholic encouragement to ask my little brothers’ best friend to do this favor for me and to keep it a secret. I do not need my brothers involved in my business. It’s bad enough that every time I go home, my brothers go on and on about Tweetie, asking how he’s doing in the league. Like, read the room.
Decker walks in at exactly the time he told me to meet him here. He says something to the hostess, and she laughs, pointing him in my direction. He rocks his head back in greeting, thanks the hostess, and breaks the small distance to me.
“Tedi,” he says, stopping at the end of the table and opening his arms.
Okay, we’re gonna hug? I stand and hug him, my head buried in his chest. His cologne is a nice, crisp scent. Much better than when he was in middle school and I’d choke every time he walked by.
“Hey, Decker.” We break apart, each taking our seats. “This is a great place.”
He looks around as if he hasn’t ever been here, but smiles and waves to the older woman making the tortillas in the corner. “I love it. Found it right after I got picked up by the Colts. Not a lot of fans, and it gives me a little bit of privacy. Plus, the food is delicious.” He picks up the pitcher and pours some sangria into his glass. “Gotta love the offseason.”
After his glass is filled, he lifts it in the air, and I do the same, clinking our glasses and both of us saying, “Cheers.”
He sips, and I sip, and it’s a tad uncomfortable if I’m honest. We both begin to talk at the same time and laugh, and Decker signals with his hand for me to go first.
“I thought maybe you’d go home during the offseason.” I pick up a chip and dip it in the salsa.
“I did for about a month, but I got bored. Your brothers are busy with work and Mason, and I figured I should get used to this city, so it feels more like home.”
“It’s hard being an adult in a new city. Making new friends and stuff.” I don’t anticipate making a lot of friends while I’m here. There are practically no women in the office, and it’s not as if I’ll become new BFFs with the girlfriends and wives of the players. I represent their biggest fear—I couldn’t lock down the hockey player in my grasp.
He shrugs, leaning forward and picking up a chip. “It’s not terrible. The single guys on the team kind of all stick together. Easton Bailey is a good friend, but he’s back in his hometown in Alaska right now.”
“It’s weird to hear you talk about all these huge athletes. Well, I guess you’re one.” I lean back and laugh, remembering when he tried to play hockey with my brothers but couldn’t stand on the skates. I guess cleats were more his thing.
“It’s still a little surreal. I mean, I’ve been in the league for a while, but it’s still weird when someone stops and says my name, wanting a picture or an autograph.” He picks up another chip, scooping the salsa. “Enough about me. So, why are you in Chicago?” He places the chip in his mouth, and I debate if I should get on with it or bide my time some more.
“I’m working for the national league, down here doing a social media campaign on the Falcons. Trying to recruit all those baseball and football fans into being hockey fans.”
He laughs. “Hey, with the way our season went, I’d say you shouldn’t have a hard time. Especially since the Falcons are killing it right now. Their entire first line is insane.” He immediately realizes what he’s said, and his shoulders fall. “Sorry, I mean everyone but the left wing. He’s a complete disaster out there. Like a baby fawn on ice.”
I laugh at his attempt to make me feel better. Maybe this will be easier, since he knows at least a little of my history with Tweetie. “It’s okay. He’s still a great player, just not meant to be someone’s forever.”
His lips thin, and I hate that pitying look. Fuck it, I’m not going to ease him into this. I’ve got bribery in my back pocket. He did a lot of shit as a kid that I’m sure he doesn’t want made public.
“Speaking of… are you in a relationship?”
Decker’s eyebrows scrunch, and he picks up his glass of sangria. “No.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
I wave him off, grabbing a chip and breaking it apart in pieces, distracting myself for a second. “I need a favor.”
“So this wasn’t just a friendly catch-up while we’re in the same city?” He sits back, waiting for me to continue.
“It is. It’s really good to see you, Decker, but um… I need you to be my fake boyfriend tomorrow night.”
Silence.
Dead air.
Zero expression on his face.
“You what?” he asks after I gobble up three more chips.
“Well, like you mentioned, Tweetie is a problem. So, I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend so he keeps his distance from me.”
His eyebrows raise, and I think maybe he’s been doing some tweezing to get that shape. “You can’t just tell him to leave you alone?”
I tilt my head, and he nods.
“God, you two and your games.”
“Excuse me. There are no games. We’re just like magnets and can’t get unstuck. You’re going to be the paper between us.”
“Me?” He points at himself.
It’s time to lay it on thick.
“Please, Decker. I have no one else, and what would my brothers think if I had to resort to sorting through a bunch of creeps on the dating apps?”
“You’re playing the best friends’ sister card?”
I smile at him over my glass of sangria. “Do you want to see my boobs?”
“Fuck, Tedi.” He looks around to make sure my question didn’t draw any glances.
“Well, you wanted to see them when you were in the seventh grade. Remember when I caught you spying on me?” I laugh.
He leans over the table, lowering his voice. “Because I got a hard-on and didn’t understand what was happening to my body. And I’ve apologized for that, like, ten thousand times. You can stop bringing it up.”
“It would be a shame for that to end up on SportsVerse.”
His expression blanks, and he drills his gaze into mine. “Now you’re resorting to blackmail?”
“I’m a desperate woman.” I finish my sangria and reach for the pitcher. “I’ll get you tickets to the games. First row, best in the house.”
He seems to think about it. Maybe I should’ve started with the hockey tickets. I just assumed with his income and connections, he could get a ticket to any game he wanted.
“What do I have to do?” he asks, watching me pour another glass. “And just so we’re clear, it doesn’t entail me carrying you back to your place tonight.” He eyes my full glass.
“Okay, Decker, let’s remember who’s older here. I can handle my alcohol. Do I need to bring up the time you threw up in the middle of the family room during my party?”
His cheeks flush. “Jesus, your memory is like a catalog of misdeeds. You can just dive in and pluck out every embarrassing thing I ever did.”
“It’s a gift. Maybe if you do this favor for me, the Decker Davis catalog magically gets erased?”
He groans, and I smile at him. The waitress comes over and takes our order. After she walks away, he’s staring at me again.
He crosses his arms. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you seem pretty desperate, and Toby and Theo would probably kick my ass, so… what do you need me to do?”
I almost drop my glass when I yelp. Decker looks at all the other tables staring at us.
I get up and hug him, kissing his face. “Thank you! Thank you!”
He stiffens but doesn’t fight me. “You’re making a scene. People are going to think you’re actually my girlfriend.”
“Should I sit in your lap? If someone snapped a picture, it’d be all that more real.”
“Tedi…” His voice sounds drained, so I go back to my seat, not wanting him to change his mind.
“So tomorrow night?—”
“Tomorrow?” He leans in. “Thanks for the notice.”
Our dinner arrives as I explain to him that it’s only one dinner, then he’ll be free and clear.