11. Eggplant Farmers
11
EGGPLANT FARMERS
Nate
When linemen chase me like tigers hunting prey, I don’t think.
I do.
With steely determination, I carry out my aim to catch the ball and carry it as far as superhumanly possible.
But as I shuffle forward in the security line, all I’m doing is thinking too much. Stewing on questions I haven’t had to deal with in years.
I knew all of Oliver’s habits down pat. He was always late to the airport, he was always late getting out of the hotel room, he was always the last one to the gate.
But see, I knew that. So I budgeted for it.
What if Hunter’s rude to flight attendants? Tips poorly? Or takes way too many selfies?
I don’t even know his last name.
He wouldn’t let me pay for his ticket change. I offered, but he said he’d handle it himself. All the more reason for me to cover everything else. It’s only right that I foot the bill. Besides, I like my luxuries.
Once I’m on the other side of security, I grab my carry-on from the belt and head toward the concourse, trying to put the unknowns out of my head.
I’ll hope for the best. And what’s the worst that could happen in twenty-four hours in Vegas with my buddies?
Ah, shit. I better let those dickheads know I’m bringing a date. William is bringing his boyfriend, but Luke, Tanner, and Bryan will be solo.
As I head to the gate, I fire off a text to Luke, who plays for the New York Leopards, and to Tanner, a shortstop for New York’s baseball team. Then Bryan. I grew up down the street from him, and we played football and baseball together in high school. His sports career didn’t end there, but it did end after a few years in the majors. Now he’s working as a contractor. The crew landed in Vegas last night.
Nate: Hold the presses. I found a date.
Luke: Miracles happen.
Tanner: Yes, Nate. The date is October 12th. Good job.
Bryan: Also, you fucking show-off.
Tanner: Bet I can find a date too. Guys, did you see that bartender downstairs? He wanted to go back to my room last night, didn’t he?
Luke: True. Nate, you should know Tanner did well, all things considered. I mean, he had about one-third as many guys all over him as I did. So, that’s not too bad.
Bryan: Luke, truly, your ego is enormous.
Luke: Among other things.
Luke attaches a video clip of a hot farmer plucking a giant eggplant off a bush, then stroking it. In case I didn’t get it. I laugh, shaking my head at their give-no-fucks attitudes. They don’t care what the hell I do. It’s one-ups-man-ship every day with my buds.
Nate: I was being polite. Try it sometime. Anyway, just letting you know I’m not, shockingly, solo.
Bryan: I’m still shocked.
Tanner: Miracles happen.
Luke: I do believe!
They’re such assholes. But if they didn’t give me hell, I’d think they were imposters. I’m about to razz them back when my phone pings with an email from my agent. Maybe it’s about the meetings we’re having with sponsors in London, but I groan when I scan the preview window.
I dreamed last night your ex got his social media account shut down. I was sad when I woke up and it was just a dream.
Grimacing, I reply to Vance: What now ?
I hate being blindsided. Had enough of being fooled for those three years of wedded bliss . Don’t want any surprises now.
I go to Oliver’s social media feed. There he is, a thumbnail, his palms pressed together in prayer.
The grimace turns into a full-body cringe as I pop in one earbud and hit play.
“I’ve shown you my muscles, but now I’m showing you my sadness. This is the real me. Post-divorce. Look at me,” he says to the camera.
Honestly, no shade on the whole real me movement, but Oliver looks haggard, like he hasn’t moisturized in a year. And the dude loved his lotions. Or, really, he loved the ones my lotion sponsor sent me.
Gee, I sure hope his new boyfriend can afford to keep him in expensive creams now that he’s not pilfering my freebies.
My ex goes on, gesturing to his face, his frown.
“And this is who I am nine months after the heartache.”
I scoff. Heartache, my ass.
“I truly never thought it would come to this. I met my ex-husband at the gym. He flirted his heart out with me. He was relentless, and I was totally charmed. I went home with him that first night, and it was magic.”
Gosh, Ollie. Want to tell them how we did it too?
“We were instalove,” he continues. “We were insta-everything. Today, three years of marriage later, I’m trying to forgive myself for all that went wrong. I only have myself to rely on now, and my work here as a humble trainer while Nate has football and the love of millions, as well as his millions of dollars. But I want the best for him. I hope he’s living his best life with all the things he has—his home, his fame, his sponsorships—while I start over with only myself.”
Are you fucking kidding me? He’s doing the I’m-poor-you’re-rich routine again? I seethe inside, wanting to shout, Well, at least my football contract was faithful to me.
I half wish Vance wouldn’t call my attention to this sideshow, but it’s best to know my enemy. Looking up, I see I’m one gate away from my flight. I keep walking as Oliver keeps talking.
“Every day I find a little self-care in the gym. And in my new love, Lon. He helps me to forgive myself. Remember, forgive yourself for the times when you’ve been ‘less than.’”
Why not tell your fans the truth about Lon then, Ollie?
“Ooh, something good in Internet land?”
Oh, shit.
At the sound of Hunter’s voice, I hit end as fast as a teenager whose mom walked into the bedroom without knocking. That’s got to be a great look—caught watching a video of my ex when I see my date already at the gate.
Could this be a worse start?
As I pop out my earbud, I turn to answer Hunter. “Nope,” I say quickly, stuffing my phone into my pocket. Hopefully, he didn’t see Oliver’s face or name. “Just something my buddy sent. A farmer and an eggplant,” I say.
Real smooth, Nate. Covering up your marriage PTSD with eggplant porn.
Why did I think I was ready to handle traveling with someone?
“Sounds like the start of a good joke,” Hunter says with a smile. “A good dirty joke.”
I smile, relieved he took me at face value. If he did notice anything, he’s chill and letting it slide away where it won’t ruin our trip. Thank fuck.
Briefly, I assess the scene around us, taking in the sea of people, the fellow travelers, the crowded gate, kids slumped on seats, parents scrolling on their phones.
Then I look at this guy here with me, the one with the upbeat attitude. He looks really good, all flirty grin and warm brown eyes.
If I’m not afraid of linemen barreling after me, I shouldn’t be afraid of one night with a guy who likes dirty jokes and arrives on time. I lean in, wrap an arm around him, and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for coming.”
When I pull away, Hunter’s sporting that cheeky, confident grin he wore the day I met him. “I hope you can thank me for that later.”
Maybe Jason was right—it’d be good to be happy. I feel better than I have in ages, like I’ve drunk some of the antidote to the last few years of heartache—Fun. Just fun.
“And I sure hope that thanks will be mutual,” I add.
Hunter makes a show of looking at his watch. “I’m sure it will be. In about two hours. By my estimate, that’s when we should be at the hotel room,” he says.
Fuck yes.
Hunter’s exactly what I need. No strings. All in. I’m going to seriously reward this man. I inch closer, dipping my head to whisper in his ear, “The second the door closes to the suite, I’m gonna push you up against the wall and get my hands and mouth all over you.”
I step back so I can take in his reaction. Quickened breath. Darkened eyes.
Nice.
“Have I mentioned I’m really glad I got the last seat on this flight?” he asks.
I smile, then tug on his short-sleeve shirt, a trim, work button-down. Mmm. I’m feeling all kinds of PDA right now, even at the gate. “Vegas, baby. We’ve got the luck today,” I say.
“Seems we do.”
“Do you like poker, or blackjack, or roulette?”
“All of the above.”
This just keeps getting better. “Good.”
“I didn’t even ask if you were into the band we’re seeing.”
“Lettuce Pray? What do you take me for? Someone without taste?”
I laugh, then drape an arm around his shoulder. “This okay?”
He chuckles. “God. Affection from a hot hunk? How terrible. Wait. A hot hunk who’s taking me to see one of my favorite bands tonight?”
Suddenly I’m like, Oliver who ? “You’re the perfect travel companion. I’m going to have a hard time resisting you when we’re on that plane.” Shit. We probably aren’t sitting together. “You said you got the last seat. Where is it?”
He clears his throat. “Row twenty-eight.”
I flinch. “That’s not okay.”
He shrugs easily. “That’s where I usually sit. I don’t mind.”
But I do. “I’m in row two. That won’t work.”
“I swear it’s okay,” he says, a little clipped. I’m not sure what to make of his reply. Maybe it’s the money or he feels awkward, but it’s just wrong to let your date sit in coach when you’re in first class. “You’re my date tonight. I’m six four and two hundred forty pounds. I don’t fit well in coach,” I say. “I would really like to upgrade you. Would you please let me?”
He takes a few seconds, nibbling on his bottom lip, then he nods. Like it costs him something. “What if there’s not a seat in first class though?”
“But what if there is?” I counter with a cocky grin that I hope convinces him.
Hunter draws a deep breath, then smiles. “Okay, Mister Bossy.”
“Good. But you’re going to have to tell me your last name finally.”
“Yes, I was keeping it a secret.” He takes a beat. “Colburn. Hunter Colburn.”
“Good name,” I say.
“Thanks. I’ll let my mum know,” he says.
I squint, doing the math. He has his mom’s name. Not his dad’s. There’s a story there, but I doubt it’s one he’ll want to dive into today.
I head to the gate a few feet away and smile at the brunette working at the counter, reading her name tag. “Hi Alice. I’d love to upgrade my date, Hunter Colburn, to first class. Next to me.”
She smiles. “Let me see if there’s an open seat, Mr. Chandler. Also, that third quarter call last night? That so should have been pass interference. But it didn’t stop you.”
I smile at the memory of the bad call. “Yeah, but it’s part of the game. You gotta run with it.”
“To the end zone,” she says.
“Only place I want to be,” I say.
After a minute or two of intense focus as she studies the monitor in front of her, she brightens, then looks up at the two of us. “You’re all set, Mr. Chandler and Mr. Colburn.”
“Thanks, Alice. I can’t wait to get to Vegas,” I say, stealing a wicked glance Hunter’s way.
He grins back.
Alice winces. “But I should let you know the flight’s been delayed two hours.”