Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
NASH
I’m not one hundred percent sure Wyatt understands the sting of a quiet home game.
Football always draws a crowd, and he’s been able to play in two of the biggest football states in the country.
Not just any football team, one of the oldest professional football teams whose stadium is entirely made up of season ticketholders.
It’s actually part of your Wisconsin legacy to be put on the waiting list for them before you’re even born.
I’m trying not to let my sour mood seep into my favorite tradition, but it’s a tall order tonight.
Whataburger’s bumping since it’s late on a Friday night, and one way or another, everyone ends up at Whataburger after midnight, apparently.
I order a number one with everything on it, and Wyatt orders the same thing with a double patty.
We get a chocolate shake to share and squeeze ourselves into a booth with our little orange order number tent sitting on the table.
We have to sit offset from one another; our miles of legs not meant for regular people-sized tables.
“We used to steal the shit out of these in high school,” I say, holding up the little plastic number card. “We put them on the dash of our cars.” Wyatt laughs like I just told an inside joke. “What?” I ask incredulously.
“You say that literally every time we come here.”
I gasp. “I do not!”
“It’s cute. It’s like you can’t help it.
” A small smile splits my lips, and I look at Wyatt over the top of our shared shake.
He’s dressed nice—for him. He’s one of the most casual guys I know, but tonight he’s wearing a Dri-FIT Nike polo and tan joggers.
His chest and arms bulge at the seams, and his hair is cropped close at the sides, but the length in the front folds over his forehead, pulling your line of sight to his crystal blue eyes.
He’s built like real Wisconsin corn stalk.
Thick and huge. Like he was destined to either play lineman or throw around bales of hay.
I take a long sip from the chocolate shake they already served us and then hold it out for him. “What was up with all those people in the stands? It looked like Noah was directing traffic.”
“I thought we were flying under the radar pretty well until they flashed a video of us on the big screen with the Hurricanes logo on it. Then every football fan in our section, plus a couple ones over, were coming up to us trying to get photos and signatures. Noah sacrificed himself so that I could watch the game.” He takes his turn sipping the dessert.
“That’s crazy,” I say, but it’s not very convincing.
I don’t want to admit that I’m jealous that they’re the kind of athletes who get noticed.
It’s not Wyatt’s fault that he plays the most profitable sport in the world.
I guess I should have just been born a man.
At my height I would have made a great football player.
Too bad I fell in love with the feeling of flying through the air, hand making perfect contact with the ball as I snap my wrist on the follow through.
There’s a small silence between us, but I’m not going to break it with my envious thoughts, so I let it simmer.
It stays long enough that Wyatt taps his phone to wake the screen. I catch sight of his background photo. “Is that our pic from flag football the other week?”
He chuffs like he’s been caught. “Yeah, it is. Why?” When I look at it again, I remember when Chrissy first sent it to me; when I saw the look on Wyatt’s face as he stared down at me and not at the camera. The soft smile that, to an unknowing person, could look like more than friendship…
I bite at the inside of my cheek, thinking.
The way the crowd cheered for them when they were shown on the jumbotron…
Megan being so mad that they were the focus…
What if we made their popularity work for us instead of against us?
If he was there as a supportive boyfriend instead of a football player, would that—could that—benefit the Moons?
And the attendance and recognition of us as athletes?
This is nuts. If we pretended to be together to bring fans to the games, everyone would see right through us.
Not to mention, why would Wyatt want to fake date me?
We kissed one time and never talked about it again.
He probably isn’t attracted to me, and the look in his eyes in that photo is platonic fondness and nothing else. Still…
I couldn’t help but think about the people who were waiting patiently in line to get a chance to meet Noah. I want that. I need it. You’d think I was an investor with how much I cared, but I have more than money in this game. I have my whole life, and all my heart and my soul.
That’s priceless.
Wyatt squints at me. “What are you thinking? You have your scheming face on.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Come on, tell me. I’m your best friend.”
I hesitate, then lean forward conspiratorially. “You would help me with anything, right?”
His eyebrows scrunch up. “I mean, theoretically, yes. Anything. As long as it’s nothing illegal. But if it was illegal, maybe—if you really needed me.”
“What about getting fans to our games?”
“I meant what I said: if you’re there, people will come.”
I lean back in the booth, arms crossed. “I’m not sure I believe that. I think I might need to take matters into my own hands.”
“What do you mean?” Now he’s officially suspicious.
“I mean, if the PVF can have even one fraction of the fans the NFL has, we’d be set.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” I look pointedly at him until he gets the hint. “Oh, you want me and the other players to be the draw.”
“Actually, what do you think about being my boyfriend,” I say, and he immediately chokes on his drink.
He coughs, bumping his chest, trying to dispel the liquid.
“My fake boyfriend,” I quickly clarify as he takes a gasping breath.
Wow, I didn’t realize the mere thought of being with me was enough to end a man’s life by choking to death.
“Jesus.”
When the teenage employee steps up to our booth holding our food, we both jump like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
“Thank you,” we mutter, not making eye contact.
Once she’s gone and our burgers are unwrapped, I decide it’s time to get back to the topic at hand. “So, will you do it?”
“What makes you think we can fool everybody?”
“Please,” I scoff, “Everything a girlfriend would know about you, I already know.” I mean, yes, I was just doubting our ability to pull this off about three seconds ago, but he doesn’t need to know that.
A grin splits his lips. “True.”
I take a huge bite of my burger as we just stare at each other. Game days always leave me starving.
“What would the rules be?”
“What do you mean?”
“In the movies there are always rules for this sort of thing.” He points his fry at me. “Like no kissing. At the very least, an end date when we call it off.”
“The end of volleyball season?”
“That’s only a few months away. How much could we accomplish by May?
” He chews for a second while he thinks.
“What about July? After my brother’s wedding?
You could be my plus one.” Why are the tips of his ears pink right now?
Is he embarrassed to be talking about this? Or is there something else going on?
“I’d love to visit your family, but how is that going to help my team?”
“We could each get two events. Like I could pick Henry’s wedding and one other thing, and you could make both of your choices volleyball things.”
I chew slowly and nod. Then quirk my brow, confused. “What’s in it for you?”
“I may have already told Ma that you were my date.” He fiddles with the lone fry in his hand.
“Wyatt!” I can’t believe he would do that! But wait…aren’t I pitching to him basically the same thing right now?
“She called me before the game and told me that she was going to set me up with someone and I panicked. I can’t go to my own brother’s wedding with a blind date.
I didn’t think you’d say no anyway. And it will help get my parents off my back.
They won’t worry about me so much if they think I have a girlfriend.
You’ll be saving me, really. Plus, if you’re there, they won’t want to talk so much about my leaving Green Bay. ”
“Remind me, why won’t you tell them you punched Jared Clark?” Seems like a lot of this worrying could be fixed if he was honest with them.
He holds up his hands. “Whoa. There were no punches thrown. He pushed me and it immediately got broken up.”
“Even better then. That just makes him look like more of an ass.”
He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’ve been gone from Wisco too long if you don’t know why. As long as he’s the starting quarterback of the Green Bay Butchers, my lips are sealed.”
I eye him curiously, not completely believing him. He waits me out.
“Okay. It’s a deal. We’ll start right now. Tomorrow, if anyone asks—we’re dating. It’s new, but obviously we’ve known each other a long time.” Like this is going to be so easy.
“That’s your plan?”
“Do you have a better one?” I cross my arms and wait.
When he doesn’t have a response, I continue, “That’s what I thought.
The Moons won’t be hard. Temi knows our history, and everyone else is just getting to know me.
” I put the now-empty shake to my lips and slurp, trying to get more out and making tons of noise.
“The Hurricanes will be harder.” He’s only been on the team for one season, but just like volleyball, spending all that time with each other primes them to get all up in your business.
“I don’t think so.” He raises his eyebrows at me, asking a question without asking. “People want to believe in romance. If we show it to them, they’ll believe it.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“Two for you, two for me.” I wipe the salt from my fries off my fingers on a napkin and then offer my hand to Wyatt over the table. “Deal?”
He takes my hand and shakes it. “Deal.”
I may have just agreed to the death of me.