Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Cooper: How’s the big date going? Did she like the cat cafe?
Cooper: Jasmine wants to know if you’re gonna kiss her goodnight.
Cooper: And I want to know if she liked the flowers for her mom or was pissed she didn’t get her own.
Hunter: Dude. Stop texting me. I’m on a date!
Taking Natalie shopping? What the hell was I thinking? I had a movie montage moment where I imagined her trying on gorgeous (and okay, slightly revealing) dresses, and the dumb words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Then I remembered Trisha. How she’d beg me to run into a store with her, rack up a massive bill, and conveniently “forget her wallet.” How could I have been stupid enough to get into that situation again?
Natalie pivoted and suggested a thrift store, and I agreed. I couldn’t say no, it was my idea. I’m such an idiot.
She gives me directions. I make a few turns and pull up beside another storefront. “Nifty Thrifty,” proclaims the sign on the glass door.
“There’s parking in the back,” Natalie says, pointing down the alley. The BMW hits a few potholes along the narrow path, and I squeeze it in between a beat-up truck and an old Volkswagen van that makes me think of terrorists, thanks to Jasmine and her recent movie pick of Back to the Future. My silver luxury vehicle sticks out like a sore thumb, and I hope it’s okay here. I beep the locks as we get out, and Natalie grabs my hand, leading me around to the front of the building.
The wind whips past as we exit the alley and the cold cuts through me. Maybe I should have worn a jacket, but the vain part of me wanted to show off. And it’s not a terrible excuse to put my arm around Natalie and pull her close.
She smiles up at me as she opens the door, and I blink, stepping inside.
This is nothing like the department stores I went to with Trisha. Yellow fluorescent lights shine on scuffed linoleum, highlighting racks and racks of mismatched clothing. Hangers are crammed together, holding sweaters, shirts, and pants. Bins overflow with who-knows-what. It’s a hodge-podge of clothes, accessories, shoes, books, and music. My mouth drops open as I take it all in.
“So, where do you want to start?” Natalie’s cheeks are flushed, maybe from the cold or excitement, I can’t tell. Either way, she’s so pretty it hurts to look at her. “We could do a scavenger hunt?”
“What kind of scavenger hunt?”
“Well, we could look for name brand stuff. Or see who can find the most ridiculous outfit. Or pick a theme—seventies night, the best bowling shirt, something like that.”
A chuckle escapes me. She makes a simple trip to a used clothing store sound entertaining, and I can’t wait to play her game.
“Bowling shirts sound fun. But how do we determine a winner? What do I get when I win?”
She raises a brow. “Oooh, cocky, aren’t we? Okay, Mr. Captain. We’ll ask other people around the store, and the winner gets to pick where we go for dinner.”
I hold out my palm for her to shake. “You’re on.”
The grin that spreads across her face makes my knees weak as she squeezes my hand. “Prepare to lose.”
“Don’t you know by now, Natalie? I’m making a play to win.”
Which is how I end up wearing a brown and orange bowling shirt with “Earl” embroidered on it. The name of the team is The Screaming Turkeys, and I hope they were epic. Earl must have been a man of girth, because the shirt is a roomy XXL. Natalie sits beside me in the booth at D.J. Hurley’s, a burger joint downtown. She’s sporting the shirt she found. It’s black and bubble-gum pink, supporting The Pink Ladies, and it once belonged to “Gladys.” The five people we asked in the store unanimously picked hers, and she looks so cute, it takes away the sting of losing.
She insisted we each buy our own shirts and wear them out of the store, then picked a cheap burger place blocks away. I resisted the urge to suggest another upscale gastropub to impress her. After our dinner at Blue Forty-Two, I’m learning. And the milkshake I’m sipping is divine.
“Can I ask you a question?” She drags a French fry through ketchup before popping it into her mouth, and I nod. “It’s okay if you tell me to mind my own business, but how are you feeling about the arena dedication in two weeks?”
I stiffen. “Is it that soon?”
“Yeah. I still have to get my dress. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you avoided my question. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
I sigh. “So you’ve picked up on some of the friction between me and my dad, huh?”
Natalie snorts. “I don’t need a degree in psychology to see that you get weird every time he’s mentioned. I’m not trying to pry—I don’t need details. Is there anything I can do to help you during the ceremony?”
She’s not looking for a scoop, not trying to profit from my story, not digging for gossip. When was the last time someone was there for me? Cooper, probably, because he’s a great best friend. But it’s rare to find a person more interested in supporting me than asking about my famous dad.
I clear my throat. “Do you mean as the Social Media Coordinator or as my friend?”
She shrugs. “Both, I guess. I have to do my job that night, but I can watch out for you, too.”
“Thanks.” I stare into the bottom of my milkshake as warmth fills my chest.
“Um, will your mom be there?” Natalie asks, and my eyes fly to hers. I rub the heart charm around my neck. She stutters a little. “It’s just—you never talk about her. Are your parents divorced?”
“She’s dead.” This sentence lands like a ref dropping the puck.
Natalie gasps.“Ohmigosh, Hunter, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I can’t believe I—”
“Hey.” I cut off the flow of words. “It’s okay. I was a baby. I don’t remember her.” Her hands fly to her mouth, her eyes stricken, but I grab them and uncover her lips. “It’s not painful, I don’t mind talking about it. And I don’t mind that you asked, either.”
I’m touched she brought it up, actually. Most people only ask about my dad or assume that Hadley’s mom Marissa is my mom, too. I like that Natalie noticed. I let go of her to pull my necklace out of my shirt, where it’s tucked away. Putting my palm under the heart charm, I hold it on display to show her.
“This was hers, actually.”
Natalie jerks, her body stiffening. “The necklace I found in the locker room. That’s why you freaked out when you thought I took it.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Her parents sent it to me before they passed. It’s all I have of her. Sorry for overreacting about that.”
“No, that makes total sense now. I’m really sorry and—”
“You don’t have to apologize.” I take a deep breath and tell her everything. How my parents were never married, and my mom died when I was a year old. Leaving my dad to figure out how to raise a baby and be a professional athlete, traveling for half the year. I’ve always suspected he rushed into things with Marissa because he needed a caretaker for me, and then regretted it once the dust settled.
“Anyway,” I continue, “My dad and Marissa get along okay, but I wouldn’t call them friends. It’s been hard for Hadley. I think she feels pulled between them. I’m sure Hadley will come to the arena dedication—it would look bad if she didn’t—but not Marissa.”
“Oh.” Natalie stares at the table, then takes a sip from her glass. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
I’m ruining our evening. Time for a subject change. “Will you be my date for it?”
She coughs, choking on the mouthful of water she just swallowed. “I’m not sure I should say yes, since I work for the team.” Maybe seeing the disappointment on my face, she grabs my hand. “I’d say yes if I could. This has been the best date I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” Her praise takes the sting out of her rejection, and I lean closer. I smell the citrus scent of her hair and I want to run my nose along the column of her neck.
“Yeah.” She nods, her pupils dilating. “I never thought I’d say this two months ago, but you’re not so bad.”
“Not so bad?” I bark a laugh. “You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego.”
Tiny smile playing on her lips, she raises her shoulders. “Your head is big enough. You don’t need me for that.”
What is it about her attitude that makes me want to kiss her? But the way she refuses to fawn over me is a huge turn-on. I clear my throat. “Hey, you wanna get out of here? Come back to my place?”
Her eyes widen as she glances at her watch. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
I shrug. “I’m offering whatever you feel comfortable with.”
Do I hope she takes me up on it? Hell, yes. But I don’t want to move too fast if that’s not where she’s at.
She winces, and my heart drops. “I want to. I really do. But it’s a weeknight, and I need to get home to Jace.”
I don’t say this because I’m trying to pressure her, but I genuinely don’t understand. “Can you explain this to me? Your mom and sister work nights, I get that, but what about your dad? Is he…?” I trail off, unsure how to fill in my blank. “Is it… because he’s a little older?”
Her eyes dim, and she doesn’t meet my gaze. “Yeah, he can’t really help much.”
I could kick myself for killing the mood again. I suck at this. Grabbing her hand across the table, I squeeze. “You’ve got a lot of responsibilities, don’t you?”
That must have been the right thing to say, because she looks at me, brimming with vulnerability. “I do. That’s why I work so hard, to take some pressure off my mom. She’s the best, and so is my dad. They deserve a break, and I want to help. I love them so much.”
“Okay.” I nod. “How about I take you home, so she doesn’t have to worry about Jace?”
Relief floods her eyes. “That would be great. And while it won’t be romantic, we could watch a movie on my couch?”
“Or Bluey again.” I wink at her. “It was riveting.”
She giggles, and the tension leaves her shoulders. “Hopefully, Jace is actually asleep, and we don’t have to do that.”
“Even if he’s still awake, that’s okay. I’m here for whatever you need.”
She brushes the most delicate kiss across my lips, a whisper of butterfly wings against my mouth, moving away before I can even comprehend it. But the affection in her gaze is real. We won’t go back to my place, but maybe I can score a second date.
“Let’s go.”