The Billionaire Bull
Page 44
Back in my bed, watching Anne meet the Cuthberts for the first time, I thought about my plans with Troy.
Why did I agree to go out with him?
Of course, after I told Marsha, she congratulated me for my wise decision, but then why was I confused by the whole thing?
I watched in amusement as Anne, in her endearing melodramatic ways, lamented about being sent away. She chattered on about destiny and her dreams. When she said, “Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.” I agreed with her.
I had already agreed to a date with Troy. If this was a mistake, I’d soon see.
Jett
I attacked practice again like a wild beast. It was all I could do to get Laney out of my head for a while. I was thankful I had something to do. Otherwise, I knew I would just stare at my phone anxiously until she called.
The trainer had secured a bag of ice on my right shoulder. The ice had begun to melt streaking my right arm from elbow to hand with icy cold rivulets. With my left hand, I dug into my workout bag, feeling around for my phone. I pulled it out hopeful.
Nothing.
“Gun, you ready to bounce?” Ox asked me, toweling off as he headed for the locker room.
“Nah. I’m going to stick around. Run some stadiums for a while,” I answered while unwrapping the co-band from my right shoulder.
Carl nudged me with his elbow. “Let’s go, Gun! We’re going to Orlando’s for pizza.”
Hammer yelled, “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!” while dancing a goofy jig.
Orlando’s pizza was my favorite. Crisp crust and fresh ingredients. But I had too much on my mind.
“I am starving!” Hatchet groaned.
“You guys go ahead. I got some…” I pointed to my head. “Stuff up here to work out.” I tossed the co-band and ice bag into the trash. Then worked my shoulder joint back and forth. It felt good. I wasn’t injured or anything. Our team’s sports physician believed ice prevented just as much as treated shoulder injury.
Hammer teased, “Is this about that girl? She hasn’t called you yet?” He looked shocked.
Hatchet made kissing noises with his mouth. He closed his eyes and puckered his lips. I just laughed. “Shut up. I just have some stuff on my mind. That’s all.” Hatchet’s face relaxed, and thankfully he stopped smooching the air.
In fact, all the guys stopped horsing around. They suddenly looked concerned walking closer to me. Their faces were drawn and worried.
Ox said, “Man, if you need to talk…” His eyebrows furrowed.
I cut him off. “Nah. I’m good.” I looked at all their faces. They weren’t buying it.
“You guys go ahead. Have fun. Get fat on pizza. It was an awesome practice today. You all deserve it.” I clapped Ox and Dylan on the back pushing them towards the locker room willing the other guys to follow.
“You sure?” Hammer asked.
I nodded. “Oh ya. I’m fine!”
“Alright, man. Talk to you later. Call us if you need anything,” Ox said. He turned away reluctantly and walked away.
Carl feigned yawning and said, “Except for me. You know, we ain’t cool like that, right?” His face broke out into a smile. He then tapped me on the shoulder to let me know he hoped I was okay.
My friends were goofballs, but they were great friends.
I ran up and down the stadium steps, finding myself a wreck, waiting for her call. I told myself that I was going to keep going until the Campanile bells rang alerting me it was seven o’clock. My legs felt leaden, and my lungs burned, but I kept running until I heard the chimes.
Sighing with relief when I heard the first bell chime, I kept going and counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Here was the moment of truth. If Laney hadn’t called by now, I’d have to deal with an entire night of anxiously waiting. I stopped running and raised my arms up, resting my hands on the top of my head catching my breath.
I noticed a girl across the field running the steps on the other side of the stadium. Her ponytail bounced as she climbed each step. Ponytail. Laney. I hoped she called.
I walked back down to where my workout bag was in the stands. I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone. There were no missed calls or text messages from her. Just a text message from Dylan, checking to see if I wanted him to bring home pizza from Orlando’s.
I texted Dylan back: “Orlando’s Special. Large. Muchas Gracias, mi amigo.” Then I sat in the stands dripping with sweat, feeling brutally rejected. Then I tossed my phone back into my workout bag.
Maybe she really is done with me? Maybe Maggie’s flower magic fell flat with her.
I groaned as I heaved my bag onto my shoulder. Had I really screwed up with this girl?
I tried to cheer myself with the thought of warm, crispy, delicious pizza waiting for me when I got home. Then I heard my phone ring from inside my bag.
Throwing it down, I shuffled through my towels and clothes to find my phone. On the screen, it was a number I didn’t recognize. I answered it hoping it was Laney.
“Hello? Jett?” It was Laney’s sweet voice with her soft Southern twang.
“Laney?” I answered even though I knew it was her.
“Hi,” she said quietly. I sat down. My heart was beating fast. Was she calling to let me down?
“Hi,” I said back expectantly. She didn’t sound angry. That was a good sign.
“Jett, I wanted to thank you for the beautiful flowers and the chocolates.” I took a deep breath. She was politely thanking me before she let me down. I braced myself for the next blow. “It was awfully sweet of you. Very thoughtful.” She paused. Here it comes. “And… I would love to go out with you.”
I jumped up happily. She said yes! She wanted to give me a chance! Although I was a joyous mess, my words came out calm somehow, “That’s great news, Laney.”
Laney took a deep breath before she said, “But, I have to tell you something.” I stopped jumping, bracing myself again.
“Okay,” I said trying to sound casual even though my heart had stopped and I couldn’t breathe.
There was a long pause. A very long pause that had my stomach knotting up. Then she finally spoke, “I’ve also agreed to go out with Troy tomorrow night. So, you and I will have to go out on another night.”
Just like that, my elevated mood plummeted. It nosedived and crashed into splintered pieces.
Troy? I hate that guy! How is he always in my way?
“Okay. Sure. Whatever works for you,” My voice sounded agreeable, but my teeth were clenched into a snarl.
“Great,” her voice sounded lighter as if telling me about Troy was a heavy weight off her shoulders. Unfortunately, that weight transferred onto mine. Knowing she had a date with Troy the next day, suffocated my joy. I told myself that she was, at least, giving me a chance too. She wanted to give both of us a chance.
“I guess Troy is my competition?” I asked her, immediately regretting it. I sounded too needy and cringed from my blunder.
Laney answered breezily, “It’s not a competition. I’m giving you both a chance to see if we have any chemistry or not.” She sounded jovial, so I wasn’t going to push it.
All I could say was, “I see.”
“But, I need to be honest about something else,” she said this with hesitation.
Oh, God. Another but. What now?
“I want you to know that I’m not easy. There will definitely be no kissing or anything physical at all on this date. This date is just for us to get to know each other.” She paused. “Are you still interested in going on a date with me?”
My reaction was immediate, “Of course! All I want to do is get to know you, Laney.”
She exhaled into my ear sounding relieved. I imagined what it would be like if she was next to me, breathing into my ear. The thought gave me goosebumps. “Okay. Cool,” she said.
I felt my lips curling into a smile as I imagined her holding the phone to her ear, smiling too. At least, I hoped that’s what she was doing.
Instead, she said, “Okay. That sounds fun.” There was a spring in her voice. I noticed while we were on the phone, Laney slowly warmed up to me. All I needed was some time with her alone, without Troy around, then she could really get to know me.
“Now, it’s my turn to tell you something,” I said.
“Okay,” she said, suspiciously.
“I’ve never been this interested in a girl before. I think you’re not only beautiful but fascinating. I’m looking forward to spending time with you,” I could hardly believe these words were coming out of my mouth, but it was how I felt.
With a soft sigh, she said, “Thank you, Jett. Those are kind words.”
I thought about Troy again. His date with Laney was before mine. What an asshole. But, as the saying goes: Save the best for last.
I added, “Brick House has some serious competition. I’m not going down without a fight.”
Laney’s voice tightened, “I abhor violence, Jett. There’s no reason for fighting. Especially over me. I’ll be honest with you. I’m not even sure I’ll get along with either of you. Jocks have never been my first choice in men.”
My mouth dropped in frustration. “I’m more than just a jock, Laney. I promise you.” I hated to be pigeon-holed into one persona. I was so much more than just a jock. I had to prove that to Laney. I added, “I also promise you that my intentions are genuine.”
“I hope so,” she said softly. She sounded wistful.
I was determined more than ever to win her heart. I would not let Troy win. I planned to leave Brick House in the dust in this competition that wasn’t really a competition.
“Oh and Laney?” I fidgeted with the buckle on my workout bag.
“Yes?” she asked.
"Wear a nice dress for our date. Thursday night will be something you've never dreamed of. I fully intend to sweep you off your feet. So get ready to be swept."
She giggled. “Okay. I’ll be ready, but I’m warning you. I’m not that easy to sweep.”
A grin plastered on my lips, I said, “I know. Challenge accepted.”
“Good night, Jett.”
“Good night, Laney. Thank you for calling.” I pulled the phone away from my ear, vowing to myself that I would sweep the un-sweepable girl off her feet, come hell or high water. It was my new mission.
Laney
Troy picked me up in his red pickup truck. I decided to wear jeans, a t-shirt, and my purple Tom’s on our date since he wasn’t specific on what we’d be doing. I figured with Troy’s temper it was best to wear comfortable shoes in case I needed to take off and find my own way home. If Marsha wasn’t so persistent, I probably wouldn’t have even gone on a date with Troy.
I climbed into the passenger seat of Troy's truck. He beamed from ear to ear and seemed relaxed. I noticed he was cute when he wasn't worked up over something.
His smile was on the devilish side. “I bought us tickets to ‘It’”
I cringed as I wasn’t into scary movies. “The Stephen King horror movie?”
“Yup. You’re going to love it. It’s supposed to be absolutely terrifying,” he chuckled.
I hated horror movies, especially in movie theaters. I felt paralyzed in the darkness of a theater, surrounded by strangers without a pillow or blanket to cover my face. “I’m not really a horror fan,” I protested.
“Sure you are,” he said, looking straight ahead. “I’ve already bought the tickets anyway. You’ll be fine. You’re a big girl.” He looked over at me in what looked to be a patronizing smile.
I’m a big girl? Okay. Whatever that means.
I said nothing as he drove to the Cineplex in Emeryville on Bay Street. At the concession stand, he ordered Raisinets, Sour Patch Kids, a Coke and Diet Coke for me. I hated the taste of aspartame. I never drank diet drinks, but before I knew what was happening, Troy spouted out his order to the high school kid at the register.
Troy handed me the Diet. “I don’t drink Diet drinks,” I said. My face frowned as I held the giant extra-large cup.
“Oh. Well, it’s just like regular,” he said flippantly taking a big slurp of his soda.
I looked at my drink doubtful. Noticing my expression, he said, “You can have some of mine if you’re that picky about it.”
“No, that’s okay,” I said taking a tiny sip of the soda. It was gross. Not to mention, I never ate Raisinets or Sour Patch Kids. I began to wonder if anything would ever really work out with Troy if those were his movie theater snacks of choice.
I was a Reese’s Pieces and Twizzlers girl. I took bites of Twizzlers and popped Reese’s into my mouth. The combination was a magically fruity, peanut buttery yumminess. But, I wouldn’t be having any of that yumminess that night it seemed.
In the theater, Troy wanted to sit in the very first row. I never sat that close to the screen. “You like the front row, right?”
“Not for movies. This is a bit close,” I remarked, looking at the immense screen looming over me.
“Front row. Not the front row.” Troy laughed. “You’re a girl who can’t make up her mind,” he said shaking his head.
“Can we sit a little bit further back? I might get sick sitting this close,” I said looking behind me for empty seats.
He sighed heavily. “Okay. If it means that much to you.”
He got up and marched to a seat in the middle of the third row. He gestured with his palms up. “Any further back, we won’t be able to see the movie.”
I looked at the gigantic screen. “Okay. This is great. Thanks,” I said, sitting down next to him.
I spent the entire movie with my hands covering my eyes. Troy was what I would call an active audience participant. He hollered at the screen, laughed loudly at the funny parts, talked during the movie, and screamed louder than anyone in the theater. The movie was terrifying. At least, the little bits I saw between my fingers were.
I was relieved when it was over. The credits rolling onto the screen were a balm for my shaky nerves. I was never going to be the same around clowns again.
After the movie, I assumed we’d go to dinner somewhere. My expectation wasn’t for a grand fancy dinner, but I was starving for a full meal. Instead, Troy drove us back to campus.
He parked on College Avenue that ran along the eastern edge of Cal. I was disappointed we weren’t going somewhere a little more off campus. I was dying to see the rest of Berkeley. I hadn’t had a chance to see much aside from the Haas, Clark Kerr, and Sproul.
I followed him to Caffe Strada, which was right across the street from Boalt Law School. We were minutes from Haas. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve studied many times at Strada. They had plenty of outdoor seating for when you want to study out in the cool evening air.
But, we weren’t studying. And I was starving. All I’d ever had at Strada were baked goods: scones, croissants, and banana bread. My stomach grumbled sadly. I needed real food.
We walked by dozens of students with their laptops open, pouring through notes and books. Seeing them, I wanted to get back to my room to study. I wanted to curl up with my reading material and bliss out information ingestion.
When we walked up to the register, I scoured the menu hoping to find something to eat with a little more substance. Troy ordered right away not asking me what I wanted. “I’ll get two peach ginger ice teas, a blueberry muffin, and a cranberry orange scone,” Troy told the tattooed guy behind the counter. He had a tattoo sleeve of fairies and sprites fluttering up his arm.
I was bummed, but I hoped he would give me the blueberry muffin simply because it was huge, almost twice the size of the scone.
Troy picked a small table in the back corner. I hoped we would go outside and enjoy the fresh air. I thought to say something about it, but after my supposedly picky requ
est for other seats in the theater, I sat down at the table without saying anything.
Unceremoniously, Troy handed me the cranberry orange scone. My stomach screamed. I thought I could hear it crying in agony. He pinched the top off the blueberry muffin and crammed it into his mouth. The muffin top alone was heaps larger than my tiny scone.
“Do you normally order for your dates?” I asked cautiously. This was something I needed to know about him if we were going to hang out. Did I want to date someone who never asked me what I wanted?
I took a bite of the scone. It tasted delicious. The cranberry and orange flavor had a tartness from the cranberry and a slight bitterness from the orange. I wished I had four more to scarf down.
His mouth widened into a huge smile. “Sure do. I take care of my girls.”
My eyes narrowed. Girls? How many girls?
On my look, he added, “I mean, not that I’ve had lots of girls. I just mean I love to take care of the woman in my life.”
I take a sip of my peach ginger tea. The ginger was thankfully not earthy like ginger can be, but more citrusy. I wouldn’t have ordered peach ginger tea if I had my say.
“This is good,” I said nodding to the tea. “But, I always order coffee here.”
Troy looked at me like I’d said something ridiculous. “Coffee? At this hour. I don’t think so.”
“What?” What was he talking about?
Troy leaned into the table looking me in the eyes. “That’s just what I’m saying, Laney. I take care of my woman. You shouldn’t be drinking coffee so late. It’s not good for you.”
He was being ridiculous. I could drink coffee whenever I wanted. Annoyed, I let him know a thing or two about myself, “Troy, I can take care of myself. I really don’t need someone to control everything. It’s unnerving.”
He ran his fingers through his bangs. “You should just sit back and let me take care of you. You’ll come to love it in time. I know what’s best.”