Chapter 20 Maggie
MAGGIE
Later, with my head still in swoony, blissy clouds, Etta Jo texts, asking me how things are going in Concordia.
Etta Jo: I miss you and your random cake deliveries.
Maggie: I miss you too! This is top secret, but remember when I mentioned who my client is?
Etta Jo: Sweetie, don’t hate me, but that week was a whirlwind of moving into the studio and a huge order.
I can’t quite remember who you said. But let me guess.
A hot celebrity who asked you to be in his next feature film?
A tech billionaire who throws hundred-dollar bills at you for fun?
Wait, wait, one of Giselle’s football players who is a total stud?
Maggie: Very funny, but you’re close. It’s Declan, but no one can know that we know each other. Giselle didn’t mention that her cousin is terrifying. I don’t want to lose my job.
Etta Jo: My lips are sealed. Oh, I heard about the #BruiserButt scandal. Those sure were some full moons! Wink, wink.
Maggie: Things are going fine.
Etta Jo: Good to hear.
Then the text bubble blinks a few times to indicate she’s writing more, as I scramble to come up with why I randomly said things are going fine.
Etta Jo: Funny, I didn’t ask how things are going. Do you mean fine as in Declan Printz is a total stud?
My stomach lurches because she’s a little too close to the truth.
Maggie: We’re just friends!
Etta Jo: Just keep telling yourself that. Giselle is still dating Garrison from the Miami Riptide. She mentioned she was glad he didn’t have to go to reform school like the guys from the Bruisers. Then she went on to tell me that Wolf, the guy Cateline is coaching, is driving her nuts.
My thumbs hover over the keypad on my phone because I’m not sure how to respond. I can’t tell her my feelings just got very confusing. Can I?
Etta Jo: It’s awfully quiet all of a sudden. Are you swooning over there?
She’s caught a scent and is not letting it go.
Maggie: No! He wears the tackiest outfits—designer stuff. He also sometimes spits when we’re outside. Gross. Oh, and I noticed he doesn’t always wear socks. Also, he’s not very good at spelling. Not to mention his table manners are lacking. Total beast. Not dating material after all.
Etta Jo: Half of the females in this country would disagree, but it sounds to me like you’re trying to talk yourself out of something...just sayin.’
I listed off everything I could think of to counter the fact that Etta Jo isn’t far from the mark. But there are clouds around me and in my head. A softness replaces the density of my bones. My blood has transformed into something that resembles marshmallow fluff.
Is this what attraction to Declan feels like? Or is it a combination of jet lag, adjusting to major life changes, and the dry wasteland of my dating life?
I’m like one of those Smokey the Bear National Park signs that says Fire Danger Today: Extreme...and even more so since Shonda in the Blancbourg salon cleaned up Declan’s beard.
Etta Jo sends back a laughing emoji and then a heart-eyed emoji. When I still don’t reply, mostly because I’m not sure what to say, she texts again.
Etta Jo: I bet you also have a list of things that you like about him—your swoon list.
I don’t. Not really. Okay, maybe, but it’s not like I’d write it down. Fine. I do.
That he’s a reliable friend
His sense of humor and ability to have a good time and make me smile...and laugh
That he’s confident but not truly arrogant
The way he looks at me with those soft brown eyes
His hoodie scent, which I can only define as home
The rippling muscles covered in tattoos that give him a bad-boy look
But he’s a really good guy
He followed his dreams and found success
Nope. Not a thing.
Etta Jo: If you and Giselle get a football player, you need to hook me up, too. Okay?
Maggie: You don’t want one. Trust me. They’re trouble.
Etta Jo: Does that mean you have one?
Maggie: No! That’s not what I meant.
But Etta Jo drops from the conversation.
Everything that isn’t on my hate list is on my...no. It isn’t a love list. I don’t love anything about Declan Printz except platonic love as a friend.
In Etta Jo’s words, it’s simply a swoon list. Nothing more. It could apply to anyone. The other guys on the team, probably. There was a cute guy at the airport, so maybe him too. Who knows, maybe coming to Concordia is a big blessing in disguise and I’ll meet my future husband here.
As for Declan and me, there can never be anything between us, especially since he’s a celebrity and even more so since I didn’t tell him everything that was in that voicemail. I didn’t want to be the one to deliver the message that has the potential to crush him.
Can’t do that. Won’t.
But the lie through omission eats at me all week and trust me, it does not taste anywhere close to chips and chocolate frosting, which I could go for to ease the ‘ole nerves. And boy, are they rattled.
Even though Declan can slip into what I’ve dubbed his famous-face when he pulls out the bravado and charm, he passes the remainder of his lessons this week with flying colors. He transformed into a great student, cleaned up, and is ready for the next phase of coaching.
But am I?