6. Paige
I’m gross and disgusting. At least that’s how I feel.
I’ve been packing my things all day. Fortunately for me, Beth and the kids came over to help, the kids popping every bubble on the bubble wrap while we try to get as much loading into the two of our cars as we could. Luckily, she had a minivan, so we were able to get most of my stuff loaded and removed from the condo and stuffed into the back of my store and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to reassemble my couch…
And where am I moving all my stuff to? A nice, polished and furnished apartment in downtown Buffalo perhaps? Or maybe into one of the guest rooms that the Bennett’s would definitely loan me if I had actually told them about my predicament?
NOPE.
I’m moving my stuff to my office space because that is exactly where all of my money is going right now. I don’t have the funds for all the upfront costs that come with renting while I’m syphoning it all to build a reputable party planning business.
I just got my sign out front instead of the painted one I’ve been using for the last few months.
No, I wasn’t going to put the brakes on my dream just because of an unforeseen wrench thrown into my plans.
So now I sit, in the Thai restaurant that I love, waiting on the blind date that Mrs. Bennett set me up on, trying not to think about the ton of boxes I have waiting for me in my office. His name is Mike.
I chuckle.
I dated a Mike in high school. He was a creep I should never have wasted my time on and broke up with me after I threw up in his car. Not only did he break up with me, but he decided to do it in the most public and humiliating way possible. It was one of few times my notoriety in high school was at its peak.
The other time being the football game…
Ten Years Ago
“This is so exciting!” Amy nearly screams into my ear, although it’s hard to hear her over the shouts and cheers of the crowd. Tonight’s game has drawn quite the audience.
The rivalry between the Dukes and the Bulldogs runs deep in our community.
My friends and I are dressed in Bulldog red and gold, tassels in our hair and one of my friends’ numbers painted on my cheek in school colors. The stands are filled with a mix of red and gold and the Duke’s blue and white, the two contrasting teams ready to determine who is heading to the state championships.
It was a big deal.
And I wanted both teams to win.
What my friends don’t know is that down on the field in Duke blue and white, waiting on the sidelines to be called out for the offense is my brother.
A gust of chilly wind whips through the stands, sending containers of fries and napkins flying and spectators squealing. I shiver in my thin shirt, I should never have listened to Amy and left my coat. I don’t care that the puffy thing would have ruined the look, I was freezing my butt off without it.
“GO BULLDOGS!” Amy shouts again as our team makes a drive forward. Her homemade pompom springs into the air as the crowd shouts and cheers and the overwhelming feeling that comes with high school sporting events takes over as I scream along with her.
“GO BILLY!” I scream my friend’s name, watching for number 13 as he darts through a mess of bodies with the ball.
The whistle sounds and the cheering dies until the next play. As if the entire stand is set in a constant loop of cheers, then silence.
Cheers.
Silence.
Cheers.
Silence.
Finally, the ball is intercepted by the Dukes and all the Bulldogs’ fans boo in unison, some shouting at the refs for “interference” or things that I don’t fully understand. Nonetheless though, the Dukes pull their defensive team from the field and send out their offense.
Aspen stops by one of the defensive players, giving him a quick fist bump before trotting to his spot on the field. My heart jumps into my throat as the player grabs a bottle of water and squirts it into his mouth.
Number 67.
Maxon.
As if he can feel me staring at him, his gaze travels up to the stands, we’re not very far up, I know if he looks he’ll be able to see me from where he stands by the railing. His gaze travels the crowds for a moment, taking in the sheer number of them before his dark coffee eyes land on me, locking me in place. His head quirks to the side, as if in question as he pins me with his gaze and I can feel his eyes traveling over me, sending shivers throughout my body.
I hadn’t really talked to Max since this summer, when we spent an entire week caught up in each other while the Bennetts were away for their family reunion. A tradition we’ve kept up ever since that first skiing trip they took a few years ago. Every time the Bennetts leave is Maxon’s and my secret time… a time when he’s not “Aspen’s best friend” and I’m not “the third Bennett baby.”
And we’ve never shared what happens when the Bennetts are away.
Not that it’s ever anything indecent. We’re just friends… at least, that’s what I thought until this last time when something shifted. When he’d take my hand while walking around the village, or the midnight picnic he planned at his family’s estate.
Or when he kissed me on the last day.
Something definitely shifted.
The ball snaps and the crowd cheers, jumping from their seats and breaking the chokehold that Maxon’s gaze had on me. I focus on the field again and cheer, although, at this point I’m not sure who I’m cheering for, the word “GO” falls from my lips and a mixture of disappointment and joy wrestle in my chest when the Dukes runner takes off for the end zone. His blue and white pants are nothing but a blur as he high tails it towards the end of the field and I realize the runner is in fact Aspen.
Tension is thick in the air as people shout after their respective teams. “GO GO GO!” I scream at the top of my lungs and despite the cries of despair around me, I can’t help but be proud of my brother when he crosses over the end zone line.
The whistle blows and the Dukes team cheers, the players on the sidelines jumping in excitement as they congratulate Aspen and the refs converse on the field.
All except one Dukes player, who is instead staring at me. When our eyes lock again he lifts a finger and curls it towards himself, beckoning for me to come to him.
I gulp the lump in my throat.
“I’ll be right back.” I say, slipping through the filled bleacher and starting down the steps towards the railing and the boy behind it waiting for me on the field.
“I came to congratulate Aspen.” I say stopping at the railing where it drops down to the sidelines. I was standing a good two feet off the ground which meant I was finally taller than him.
Max huffs a laugh, staring up at me. “Sure.” His gaze travels my outfit. “I don’t like you in those colors.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s my school Max, of course I’m going to wear their colors.”
His eyes come to my face. “And 13? Who’s he?” He glances towards the Bulldogs team as if the player would appear from nowhere.
Absently, I touch my cheek. “He’s my friend. Which I’m allowed to have.”
His attention snaps back to me and eyes soften momentarily. “I didn’t mean it like that… I just… I don’t know.” He shakes his head before bending down and grabbing something from the ground. “Here, put this on.”
His sweatshirt. Blue and white with his number imprinted on it of course.
“Really Max? Why don’t I just wear a sign that says ‘claimed by Maxon’?”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re obviously cold Pages. I’m not trying to ‘claim’ you. I just don’t want you freezing to death and I don’t see anyone else offering one.”
My arms are crossed over my chest, goosebumps rising along my skin, eyes narrowing down at him. “I could take Aspen’s sweatshirt.”
“But you won’t, because you’re incapable of asking for help.” He’s still holding the shirt up to me and I can feel the crowds’ eyes on my back. Shouldn’t they be paying attention to the game instead of me and my confusing love life?
“Fine.” I say, taking the sweatshirt and slipping it over my head. It’s somehow warm still, and it smells like him in the most delicious way. Okay, I take back my not wanting to borrow the thing. Now I’m not sure if he’ll get it back. “I don’t even know how you knew I was cold.”
Suddenly he lifts himself higher on the railing so that we’re closer to eye level, so close I can see the perspiration that slides down his forehead and the intensity in his deep-set eyes. “I notice everything about you Paige. The fact that you chew on your hair when you’re thinking, how you deflect help when it’s being offered, and the way you play down your brilliance just because you think people will like you more that way.” His eyes travel down my face, lingering on my lips for a second before snapping back up to meet my eyes. “So don’t for a second think that I’m not paying attention. Because I like you just the way you are.”
I gulp as he lowers himself back onto the field just as Aspen trots towards us. “Paige!” He grins up at me, brow arching at seeing me in his best friend’s sweatshirt.
“Hey! Congratulations. That was a good play.” I say, ignoring his questioning look.
He grins widely. “Thanks!”
I nod, my gaze darting between him and Max for a moment before motioning back towards the bleachers. “I should get back.” I say, locking eyes with Maxon’s intense gaze for a second more before retreating to my seat.
Amy stares at me wide eyed when I finally sit back down. “WHAT was that?”
“I…” I play with the hem of Max’s sweatshirt. “Don’t actually know.”
Present
“Please don’t be a creep.” I say quietly to my glass of soda while waiting for this mysterious Mike to show up at the bar.
“Now, whatever did that drink do to offend you?” A deep, gravelly voice says from behind me, and I recognize it instantly. My attention pops up, locking with the richly colored irises of Maxon as he grins down at me.
Dang him and his height.
He leans against the bar beside me, cocking his head to the side with a questioning look, looking far more attractive than he has any right to in his white button up and jacket. I imagine he’s just gotten off of work, and that at some point he’d worn a tie around his neck that he’s now discarded, instead letting the top few buttons undone just to reveal a sliver of California-sun-tanned skin. “What are you all dressed up for?”
I almost laugh. I feel like a mess, although I know that I did put some effort into how I look tonight, despite not having wanted to come on this date in the first place. I glance down to my outfit that consists of a pencil skirt and deep blue blouse. My hair is curled because that was the only thing I could do in order to hide the fact that I didn’t wash it today and the heels I’ve slipped on are propped against the barstool.
“I especially like the beret.” He winks.
Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that.
I laugh slightly, my hand absentmindedly slipping up to touch it pinned in my hair. “Thanks.”
His eyes twinkle in that familiar way before he drops his gaze from mine. “So, what’s the occasion?”
I straighten slightly. “I am on a date.”
He stiffens ever so subtly, eyes darting back to me. “Oh?”
I nod. “Yep, Mrs. Bennett set it up.” I say before I can stop myself. “She’s determined to set me up with someone.” Why am I telling him this? This is not something that I need to be telling him, yet my mouth won’t stop. “She’s been arranging dates for me for over a year now and I swear I’ve gone out with almost every man in Buffalo at this point.”
Paige. Just. Stop. Talking.
In a desperate attempt to stop the word vomit and not go into more details about how I don’t even know the man I’m about to have dinner with, I grab my drink and take a long sip.
“I see.” He says slowly. Now he’s scanning the room, looking for my date. “Well, I probably shouldn’t keep you then…” He begins to move away from me when I catch sight of the person who’s just entered the bar.
“Oh no.” I breathe out, as my ex-boyfriend Mike, the sleazy one from high school, looks around the place. I have a sinking feeling in my gut that he’s the same Mike that Mrs. Bennett set me up on a date with.
Panic seizes me as I turn toward Max, grabbing hold of his jacket and pulling him towards me. Surprise flashes across his features in the millisecond before our lips collide and suddenly I am kissing Maxon Grant.