Chapter Six
Dylan
I never thought I’d be standing on a stage in Bellevue Auditorium while a bidding war broke out over a round of mini-golf. Somehow, this is my Friday night.
“Three hundred!” a woman shouts from somewhere near the back.
“Three fifty!” another voice counters.
Darnell swings the golf club like he’s lining up a shot at Augusta, then shades his eyes dramatically as if tracking an imaginary ball. The crowd eats it up.
Bellevue Auditorium was built for lectures and graduation ceremonies, not football players pretending to be professional golfers.
Green spotlights sweep over the first few rows while booster-club volunteers hurry along the walls with bid sheets and numbered paddles.
The whole event feels half fundraiser, half talent show, with just enough money involved to make everyone take the ridiculousness seriously.
I laugh when someone yells, “Five hundred!”
Darnell gestures toward me with the golf club. “Your turn, Sharpe.”
Not one to be outdone, I break into his ridiculous touchdown dance—knees bouncing, hips shaking in a way that should be humiliating but earns exactly the reaction we want.
“Those are my moves!” Darnell yells, clutching his chest in mock betrayal.
“Six hundred!”
“Seven hundred!”
Darnell and I exchange stunned looks. We’d figured someone might toss fifty bucks our way. Seven hundred feels unreal.
I barely register the noise—the shouting, the clapping, the emcee’s voice echoing off the walls.
Then I find Lucy at the back of the crowd.
Her arms are wrapped around herself, her posture noticeably stiff.
But amusement softens the tension in her face, an expression that says she doesn’t enjoy crowds, yet she’d stand in the middle of one to watch me make a fool of myself.
For one suspended second, the auditorium disappears around us.
“Seven fifty!”
“A thousand dollars!”
The room gasps.
“Going once!” the auctioneer calls. “Going twice! Sold!”
“Guess we’re playing the nicest mini-golf course in the world,” I say to Darnell.
The gavel slams down. Darnell whoops and high-fives me as we step offstage.
We never saw who raised the final paddle.
Marcus strolls past in full pads for his auction entrance, helmet tucked under one arm. When he hits the stage, he starts demonstrating footwork while the emcee hypes the coaching session.
“Nice work,” Coach Littlestone says, clapping us on the back. “That was a hit.”
“Must’ve been your good luck charm,” Darnell says, pulling me into a bear hug.
“Good luck charm?” I arch a brow.
“Library Girl.” He gives me a pointed look. “Or should I say Lucy?”
I scoff as we head toward our table. “You’re imagining things.”
“Sure I am.” He leans back in his chair. “You owe me an explanation.”
“I’ve got breakfast plans tomorrow.”
Darnell groans. “With Lucy? Come on, man.”
We sit just as Derek leans back in the chair at the next table, his purple button-up doing him no favors. “Did you guys see Library Girl is here serving tonight?”
“Her name’s Lucy,” Darnell says sharply.
Derek shrugs and turns back as Marcus hits the stage—pads off, shirt following. The crowd goes wild.
But my focus keeps drifting.
I spot Lucy weaving through tables, refilling drinks, collecting plates. Every time she passes my table, I have to stop myself from getting up.
“She’s coming,” Darnell whispers, elbowing me.
I straighten and smooth my tie, then freeze when Meredith slides into the empty seat beside me.
“You two were expensive,” she says smugly. “But worth it.”
Darnell groans.
Her fingers slide along my forearm with practiced familiarity.
“Don’t,” I say, swatting her hand away without hesitation.
Her attention shifts to the back of the room. “Afraid Library Girl might see?”
My jaw tenses. “What did you just say?”
“I saw you two earlier.” Her smile sharpens. “What were you talking about?”
“None of your business,” Darnell cuts in.
Meredith raises her hands. “Relax. I’m just curious.”
“What do you want?” I ask flatly.
“You,” she says, like it’s obvious.
“You won the bid,” I remind her, keeping my voice even. “You get mini-golf with me and Darnell. That’s it.”
She pouts. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’ve never given me a chance.”
“Because I’m not interested.”
Her mouth tightens. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
“I’ve said it every other way.”
Meredith is someone who pushes when you say no. She confuses access with entitlement. She doesn’t like me, not really. She just enjoys the chase. Lucy listens when I say no. Meredith treats it like the beginning of a negotiation. There’s no comparison.
“I’m focused on football,” I say to Meredith.
Darnell fake sneezes. “Liar.”
Meredith leans closer. “Football ends. We graduate. Then what?”
“I’m being clear,” I say, my patience gone. “This isn’t happening.”
She pushes back from the table. “Fine. Enjoy mini-golf.”
When she finally leaves, Darnell shudders. “She’s creepy, right?”
“Very.”
“And hopefully,” he adds quietly, “she stays away from Lucy.”
I watch Meredith cross the room before turning back to Darnell. This is exactly why I want to keep things with Lucy quiet. Between my mom and Meredith, it feels like someone’s bound to ruin this before it even gets a chance to be real.
“Speaking of Lucy,” I say, spotting her carrying a box out the side door. “I’ve gotta go.”
“You owe me,” Darnell mutters as I slide out of my chair.
I ignore him and cross the hall, catching the door before it swings shut. Lucy’s already halfway across the parking lot when I catch up.
The side door shuts behind me, cutting the auction noise down to a muffled pulse.
Outside, the air is colder than it was before, carrying the smell of leaves and exhaust from the catering van.
A row of yellow lights stretches across the nearly empty lot, and our footsteps sound too loud against the pavement.
After the heat and noise inside, the quiet feels private, like we’ve stepped outside the rest of the night.
I catch up near the middle of the parking lot, not the least bit concerned that someone might notice I’m gone.
“Let me help you,” I say, slipping the box from her hands.
She laughs softly, and under the parking lot lights, away from the crowd, she looks so much like herself that I forget whatever I meant to say next.
“Thanks,” she says.
“Are you done for the night?” I ask, trying to sound as though following her into the parking lot is perfectly normal.
She shakes her head. “No. We just take things out as we finish using them. Cleanup’s easier that way.”
We reach the catering van, and she swings the back doors open. Trays and supplies are stacked neatly inside.
I slide the box onto the cleared space near the back and step away from the open doors.
For a moment, neither of us moves. Then, Lucy looks up at me like she’s trying to decipher something I haven’t said yet.
“Someone paid a thousand dollars to play miniature golf with you,” she says, amused.
“Darnell and me,” I correct.
She wraps her arms around herself, thoughtful. “People really like you.”
“Most people don’t actually know me,” I say quietly.
“I think you’re more transparent than you realize,” she replies.
“Only with you.”
She exhales. “That whole thing on stage… it was kind of adorable.”
I step closer without thinking. “You think I’m adorable?”
“I—um—” She stumbles, then laughs at herself. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I think you’re pretty adorable, too.”
“You’re not what I expected, Dylan.”
“What did you expect?”
She considers that. “I assumed you’d look at me and decide I was just Library Girl. Like everyone else.”
“You don’t like that nickname.”
“Not when everyone uses it like my real name doesn’t matter.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t call you that again.”
“You’re different,” she says after a moment. “When you say it, it doesn’t always sound cruel.”
I reach for her hand. “I like you.”
Her fingers squeeze mine. “You don’t really know me.”
“I know enough,” I say softly. “And I want to know more.”
Her fingers tighten around mine. She seems so accustomed to being overlooked that even simple interest is difficult for her to trust. I want the chance to prove it isn’t.
“Lucy Clarissa Bennett!”
A tiny woman marches toward us, hands planted on her hips. Relief flashes across her face before irritation replaces it.
“I do not pay you to disappear into parking lots and make kissy faces at hunky football players in suits.”
Lucy groans. “Dylan, this is my Aunt Joss.”
I straighten instinctively.
This woman means business.
“Dylan?” Aunt Joss cackles, her stern expression melting into a wicked grin. “I knew you had a secret boyfriend. I am absolutely telling your parents.”
My mouth opens as I look between Lucy and her aunt, completely at a loss. “I—”
“She won’t,” Lucy says quickly, turning to face her aunt. “I’ll be back inside in a second.”
“I thought something happened to you,” Aunt Joss mutters. “You scared me.”
“The Lucky Bennetts,” Lucy says with a small smile. “Remember?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Aunt Joss waves her hand dismissively. “Two minutes. If you’re not back by then, Dylan and I are having a very serious conversation involving my meat cleaver.”
“Oh my gosh,” Lucy groans under her breath. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Two minutes!” Aunt Joss calls as she marches back toward the auditorium.
I watch her go, then glance back at Lucy, amusement getting the better of me. “She’s… intense.”
Lucy drags a hand down her face. “She’s actually pretty great. She just enjoys humiliating me whenever possible.”
I chuckle. “What did she mean by ‘hunky football player’?”
Lucy shakes her head. “Long story.”
“Can you tell it in”—I check my watch—“one minute and forty-three seconds?”
She smiles, unapologetic. “I’m afraid I can’t.”
I should let go of her hand. I don’t.
“Then we should probably head back inside,” I say, even though every part of me resists it.
Lucy studies me for a second, her expression easing. “Two more seconds.”
Before I can respond, she rises onto her toes and presses a quick, shy kiss to my cheek. Then she pulls back, hiding her smile behind her hand as if she’s just surprised herself.
The warmth of her lips lingers long after she steps back.
And standing there under the parking lot lights, watching her retreat toward the building, one thing becomes perfectly clear.
Whatever rules I made before Lucy, they’re starting to feel impossible to keep.