Four
MADDOX
“So, where do you think you’re going to take her?” Jamie asks as we’re walking back into the locker room after practice.
I shrug. “I don’t know. She said I have to make it something where she won’t get her picture taken.”
Jamie nods. “That’s understandable. We’re all under the gun after the auction anyway. Aud had someone show up at her clinic yesterday, wanting to talk about me. It freaked both of us out.”
“Oh, shit. How’d she handle it?” I ask. Jamie and his girlfriend Audrey are autistic, and they both struggle with some social situations. Jamie is also incredibly private and doesn’t like to expose his personal life.
“She handled it with more grace than I would have, that’s for sure. Calmly asked the guy to leave her clinic, and when he didn’t immediately do so, she called the police.”
I study my friend, noting his lack of eye contact, then chuckle. “You beat the police there, didn’t you?”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “Not my fault if they were slower than me.”
“How many laws did you break en route?”
“I didn’t count them.”
“But you admit you broke some laws.”
“It’s possible,” he murmurs, making me snort. “You know, I can’t wait for the day when you fall for someone, and you’ll become borderline feral for her. No telling what you’ll do in a situation like this.”
For some reason, my mind drifts to Claire.
What’s her job again? An accountant? What’s the likelihood that someone might show up there asking about me?
It makes me wonder how she might react. Would she calmly ask them to leave like Audrey, or might she lose her temper and scream at them?
Hell, she might gossip with the person about me, then go back to work.
Honestly, there’s no telling with that girl.
“So, where do you think you’re going to take Claire on your date?”
“I don’t know yet,” I murmur, scratching my chin as we reach our side-by-side lockers. “I think I want to do something that gets her out of her comfort zone. She seems so even-keeled and collected, but there’s something just underneath the surface that screams for excitement and adventure.”
“Audrey said Claire has been known to make some interesting life choices when she gets alcohol in her system,” Jamie comments as he puts his helmet in his locker.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. She doesn’t know the full story, but I guess there’s almost an urban legend about Claire somehow ending up in Alaska once.”
A buzzing at the base of my spine has me standing up straight. “Boring Claire, surrounding herself with numbers, ends up in Alaska?”
Jamie nods. “Aud hasn’t asked for details. She’s pretty new to their circle of friends and doesn’t want to rock the boat. But she also said Claire bidding for you was out of character for her, and that Claire blamed the champagne.”
My mind whirls with ideas. “I don’t necessarily think I want to give her tons of booze. While it would be interesting to see what happens, the whole aspect of the dates is that we’re trying to get the other to beg for sex. I’m not going to ply her with alcohol. That wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
Jamie’s head cocks to the side as he studies me, a smirk on his face. “You’re worried about a fair fight? You made a bet that you’d get her to beg for sex, man. What’s your overall endgame?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I have one,” I mutter.
Jamie steps closer to me, lowering his voice.
His eyes dart around us, watching everyone.
“Listen. I know I’ve never understood your dating and sex lives.
I get that you have no problem sleeping with women who are just chasing football players.
But Claire isn’t like that. According to Audrey, she’s a genuinely nice girl.
You won’t be a notch on her bedpost, so don’t treat her as such. Maybe get to know her.”
I nod solemnly, acutely aware of how this feels. Suddenly, it isn’t just a bet or a date. This seems like more.
The following Sunday, I arrive at Claire’s home to pick her up for our date. I requested that she wear casual clothes and bring extras just in case. I have no idea if she’ll follow my request, overpack due to anxiety, or not bring anything at all.
As I pull up in front of a modest townhouse on the east side of Denver, I don’t have a second to step out of my car before Claire is hustling out of her front door. Carrying a satchel, she opens my passenger door, launches the bag at me, then jumps into the car.
“Are you okay?” I ask, watching as she slouches in the seat.
“I’m fine. Can we just go?” she answers, her voice so quiet I can barely hear her.
“Why are you whispering?”
“I’m not.” Claire lifts briefly to peer out the windshield, then falls back into the seat. “Seriously, can we go? God, this car is awful. Could it be any more ostentatious?”
I look around the interior of my favorite car, stupefied. “It’s an Audi R8.”
Claire glares at me. “I seriously could not care less. It’s gaudy and ridiculous-looking. I bet it’s awful in winter weather.”
“I don’t drive it in the winter.”
“Oh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to think you take the bus or something?”
My mouth drops open in shock. What the fuck? “Sunshine, you do know I have like five cars, right?”
It’s her turn to look surprised. “Why would I know that? And why do you have five cars? That’s an absurd waste of money!”
I shrug. “Baby, I made twenty million last year. I’ve got money to waste.”
“Twenty mil —” she gasps.
“You gonna put your seatbelt on, or are we staying here? Safety first.”
When Claire doesn’t move, I reach across, grab her belt, and then secure it. She lets out a harrumph of surprise. “Well, that was unnecessary.”
Grabbing the shifter, I hit the gas, my tires squealing. “You sure about that?”
“I stand corrected,” she mutters, grabbing onto the door. I find myself surprised that I’m sad she didn’t grab onto my arm.
An awkward silence follows as I drive west toward the mountains, and I don’t know how to remedy it.
I have zero idea of what Claire likes. Any hobbies or pastimes, how she spends free time, or if she’s close with family.
How do I start getting to know this girl without sounding like a complete idiot?
As I’m debating on how to start a conversation, Claire speaks up.
“Did you really get an engineering degree?” she asks.
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
I see her shoulders jerk in a shrug out of my periphery. “It’s surprising, I guess. Engineering isn’t exactly the norm for athletes.”
“I’ve always figured an athletic career only goes as far as one major injury, so I wanted to be prepared in case that happened earlier in my career than I hoped. Plus, I actually enjoyed college.”
“So you weren’t out partying all the time?” she asks dryly.
I chuckle. “Oh, I partied. But I didn’t take it for granted.
Getting a scholarship was huge for me. I knew I couldn’t afford college on my own, and my dad made it clear he wasn’t going to drop a dime on me once I was legally an adult.
He claimed he put his time and money into making me a football star, so it was my turn to put in the effort. ”
“Wow, that’s harsh. He sounds like a winner.”
I scoff. “He thinks he is. I’m his claim to fame.
Whenever I do badly, I get hellish phone calls from him, where he berates me for every last detail.
He'll tell me I’m such a disappointment.
But he has no problem calling me for money, living in the house I paid for, or driving the new cars I send to him. ”
“That’s awful,” Claire says quietly, but I barely hear her. For some reason, in this moment, the topic of my dad has hit a nerve, and I begin to unload.
“I get it. It’s my fault she’s dead. But you’d think after fifteen years, he’d maybe stop blaming me as much.
Maybe see that his drinking is far more to blame for his current lot in life.
But no, it’s all about how he hates me. Despises me.
He thinks I should be doing better in catches, receiving, or touchdowns.
He nitpicks all of my interviews, too. Who does that?
If I’m photographed too much in the media, he says he’s mortified, and I’m an embarrassment to our family name.
That my mother would be rolling in her grave.
Which is dumb, because she’s cremated, but that’s beside the point.
If I’m not photographed at all, he tells me I’m stupid and that I’m wasting the spotlight. I can’t win.”
“Why do you think your mom’s death was your fault?” Claire asks, resting her hand on my forearm. My eyes drop from the road to where she’s touching me, the warmth of her skin seeming to soak into my arm. “Keep talking, Maddox, but you’re really speeding. You might want to slow down.”
My gaze snaps to the speedometer, and I yank my foot off the gas. I was getting close to one hundred. Thankfully, we’re on the interstate, but the speed limit out of town is still capped at seventy-five. “Fuck. I’m sorry. My dad makes me so angry.”
“It’s okay. Tell me more about your mom.”
I sigh. “She was the best. Always my biggest cheerleader and a staunch supporter, no matter what. Great at helping me see the full picture. She died on her way to one of my football games, my senior year of high school. That’s why my dad blames me.”
“I’m sorry about your mom,” she whispers.
“Thanks.” I pause, thinking about the last conversation I had with her the afternoon she died.
“I miss talking to her. I miss everything about her, but talking to her about anything and everything. Sports, politics, girls, cooking. She had the best laugh. I can still hear it in my head, but I wish I had a recording of it. Hearing her laugh could make any day brighter.”
“I wish I had that too,” Claire says, her voice so quiet I have to ask her to repeat herself.
“I said, I wish I had that too. A recording of my mom’s laugh.
I wish I had a recording of her saying my name and that she loved me.
I think it’s so easy to delete voice messages, assuming we’ll have forever with someone. I wish I’d saved more.”