“I don’t have a sitter until next weekend.” I stop and wait for him to connect the dots – I’ve already checked and next weekend is no good – he has a game. “You have a game, so…”
“Let me take care of the details.”
Unease settles in the pit of my stomach. I’m sure he thinks he can just ask some random person to watch Christian, but that’s not going to work. I can count on one hand the people I’d trust with Christian and most of them live too far to pop over for a date night.
“Don’t worry,” he says as if reading my thoughts. “I have someone in mind that I think you will approve of, but I don’t want to say until I check. In the meantime, show me what you’re wearing?”
He moves his head like he’s trying to see past the bottom of my screen. I laugh but angle it out and down so he can see the leggings and Valley basketball t-shirt I’m wearing.
“I’ve got team spirit,” I say and wave my hand around with an imaginary pom.
“Screw team spirit as long as you’ve got Joel Moreno spirit.”
God, the way he says it sounds so hot and dirty my sex clenches.
“What’d you do tonight?” he asks, leaning his head back on the headrest, his black hair still wet from showering.
“Christian and I watched the game and ate pizza. He crashed early because he missed his nap two days in a row, so I was working on stuff for the play.”
“How’s that coming along?”
“Good. I think the script is just about finalized. They’re letting me sit in on rehearsals which is amazing.”
He stifles a yawn.
“I think you’re tired.”
He shakes his head in protest.
“I should go anyway. Christian doesn’t understand weekends are for sleeping in.”
We hang up and I lie in bed watching thirty minutes pass, then an hour. Then two. I’m tossing and turning and just about to give up on sleep altogether when a text lights up my phone.
Joel: Open your front door.
My heart pounds quickly and I sit up and fling back the covers. He can’t be.
I move through the house quietly without turning on any lights. When I reach the front door, I look through the peephole and inhale sharply.
“Open the door, Kitty.”
I step back quickly and hear him chuckle. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and stare at him, certain the surprise is written all over my face. My eyes scan up and down taking in the way his athletic pants and long-sleeved t-shirt make him look like an athletic god. “What are you doing here?”
“I realized something, and I had to come see you.”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I stay firmly on my side of the doorway and don’t offer to let him in. I haven’t really thought this through, but I know I don’t want Christian to wake up to someone he doesn’t know in the apartment. “What’s that?”
He steps forward and grips my hip, pulls me to him and leans down until I can feel his breath on my cheek. He smells of mint and leather and cold and the combination makes me shiver into his touch. Instead of answering my question, he brushes his lips over mine softly. So much softer than I ever would have thought Joel Moreno capable of. I can feel him smile on my lips and then he presses harder, beckoning me to open. His tongue sweeps in and I melt into him, thankful he’s got a tight grip on me because I feel ridiculously shaky.
He pulls back and leans his forehead against mine only loosening his hold on my hip slightly. “Tonight was our third date.”
17
Joel
“Got a favor.”
Blair narrows her gaze. “I’m not setting you up with any of my sorority sisters.”
“I don’t need your help getting a date, but thanks for thinking so highly of me.” I roll my eyes and grab one of the donuts from the two boxes she brought over. “Can you babysit Thursday night?”
“Can you repeat that?”
“You heard me, weirdo.”
“Who would I be babysitting?”
“Uh.” I rub my jaw. I haven’t mentioned to Blair that I’m talking to Katrina partly because she’s the only one that seems to know her, and I already know how highly Blair thinks of me by her constant reminder that I’m not good enough for her friends. “Katrina’s son, Christian.”
“Why?” She crosses her arms and damn, I feel like I’m about to get Blair’s wrath. All five foot nothing of her is making me more nervous than I care to admit.
“Katrina and I have been talking, and—”
“Oh no. Jooeeel,” she whines, and I grind my teeth because I can tell by her tone that she doesn’t approve. “Katrina is not someone you can screw around with.”
“Again, thanks a lot for the vote of confidence. Can you watch him or not?”
“She’s agreed to go out with you?”
I sigh. “She’s worried about a sitter. From what I gather, she doesn’t have a lot of people here she trusts, but I think she’d trust you.”
She bites at her bottom lip studying me carefully.
“Please?”
“I have stipulations.”
Of-fucking-course she does. “Such as?”
“I want to talk to her first.”
I roll my eyes again. “She’s very well aware of my reputation. You don’t need to warn her off.”
“Yet, it appears she’s still willing to go out with you.” She shakes her head. “That’s non-negotiable. I’ll stop by the café and talk to her.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, actually. Gabby is moving down next month.”
I smile. “Yeah? That’s awesome.” I’ve only met her a couple times, but from what I know of Blair’s best friend Gabby, it’s no small miracle that she’s finally moving to Valley. “She gonna take classes this semester?”
“She’s going to finish out the semester with her online classes and then take a couple summer classes to help get settled before next year.”
“That’s awesome,” I repeat.
She smiles. “It is, and I want to throw a party in her honor.”
“Sure, that’s no problem.”
“A big party. Think prom meets foam party. Gabby missed senior prom and she’s got it in her head that we have foam parties every weekend.” Blair scrunches her face up. “I don’t know where she got that from, but it doesn’t matter, those are my terms.”
A prom slash foam party? Both of those sound super lame. Combining them doesn’t help. The things a guy will do for a good lay. Shit, that’s not even true. I could get laid right now if that’s all this was.
“Fine. We can work out the party details, but it has to be after the season.”
She nods firmly like she’s CEO of the party planning committee.
“You’ll talk to Katrina today?”
“Oh yeah.” She laughs. “I have so many questions for her.”
* * *
Katrina
“Hey, Blair, it’s so good to see you,” I say as I untie my apron and step out from behind the counter.
“You too,” she says with a tone that tells me she knows about Joel.
It’s not completely surprising considering Joel and Wes are roommates, not to mention my run-in with Vanessa.
“You have time to chat for a few minutes?”
“Of course,” I chirp cheerily despite the sweat now beading up between my cleavage.
She holds up a finger. “I just need to get some muffins for the guys first.”
After she orders two dozen muffins, we settle into a table in University Hall.
“So, how’s the new job?” I ask of her new job working at the tutoring center.
She smiles. “It’s going really well, I miss the café some days though.”
“We miss you too. It’s not the same without your quotes. Garrett tried to take over the quotes on the evening shift but quickly gave up when people started correcting his spelling and grammar.”
She laughs. “And you, anything new with you?”
; “I’m assuming you’re referring to Joel by that look in your eye.”
Her eyes get large and her smile larger. “How and when? And how?!”
“He came in the café last semester and asked me out.”
“You’ve been seeing him since last semester?!”
“No.” I shake my head. “I turned him down, but he kept coming back every week.”
“Seriously? That sounds… so unlike him.”
“I’m pretty sure his ego wouldn’t rest until I said yes.”
“Well, obviously you finally did because he’s asked me to babysit Christian for you on Thursday.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
She places a hand over mine. “I’d love to watch him. Honestly, that’s no problem. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t lost your mind. Joel’s great, don’t get me wrong, but…”
As her words trail off, I can only nod.
Her fingers squeeze mine. “You must like him a lot.”
“I do. I mean everyone likes Joel – he’s easy to like, but he’s different than I expected, too.” I meet Blair’s eyes and she’s grinning so big I feel like I need to backtrack so she doesn’t get the wrong idea. “It’s just one date.”
“One date that he’s going to a lot of trouble to get. Something tells me he might have met his match in you.”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m really not his type.”
“Joel’s type is beautiful women. You’re definitely his type.”
“Thank you.”
“So, let’s talk details, you want me to come to your place? A sorority house probably isn’t the best spot to babysit.”
We make plans for Thursday and I finally let myself feel the thing I’ve been putting off – excitement.
18
Katrina
Joel takes it all in. His long legs stretch out in front of him and he props his head on one large palm. I should have just written a story about Joel Moreno. He’d look hella good on stage with a spotlight on his ridiculously chiseled face.
I hear Brody and Tabitha, but it’s Joel I watch as they embrace and recite the words I’ve written. It’s surreal to have written something in the silence of your apartment and then poof! watch two people make it come alive.
When the scene ends, I leave him to chat with Brody. The expression he wears tells me he’s not quite feeling it yet and I want to make sure I capture any insights he has.
“Do you think the scene needs more dialogue?” I ask when I approach him.
“Nah, I don’t think that’s it. It’s missing something. The connection isn’t there. Why is Imelda so drawn to me? And vice versa? I’m not saying we necessarily need to tell the audience the backstory, but I want to know, so I feel it in my bones. Ya know?”
Nodding, I swallow a lump in my throat. I let my shoulders slump feeling inadequate and like a total fraud. Why did I think I could do this? I don’t know anything about all-consuming love.
Brody walks off, the rest of the cast and crew already packing up, and I return to Joel.
“It’s a killer story,” he says.
I check his expression but only find sincerity. “Thank you. Brody wants me to help him understand the connection between Hector and Imelda. That first scene is critical.”
It’s the only intimate scene with both Imelda and Hector in the entire play. We breeze past the happy courtship and then the entire second act is told through a split stage. Imelda living her life taking care of Coco while missing Hector and then Hector touring the world writing songs. It’s a unique way to show their life together and powerful, I hope too, but it means this scene where they meet has to be amazing.
“Hey.” He leans down to catch my line of vision. “You’ll figure it out.”
“It needs more angst and passion. It sets the tone for the entire play. If the audience doesn’t buy it here, they won’t feel the pain and anguish later.”
“Pain and anguish, huh?” His lips twitch. “I thought this was a love story.”
“It is… but uhh… it doesn’t have a happy ending.”
“Don’t love stories typically require a feel-good ending?”
“No, not in every case. Phantom of the Opera, The Fault in Our Stars, Me Before You, and basically everything Nicholas Sparks has ever written.”
The stage clears off leaving Joel and me alone. We walk to the front and I rest a hand on it. A tactile reminder of what is at stake. My words, my vision will be brought to life. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.
“Close your eyes,” he says, linking our fingers on one hand and reaching for my other on the stage.
“Why?”
“No questions. Just do.”
I snort. “Okay.”
“You asked for my help. This is me helping.”
I let my eyelids flutter shut. Sensations overwhelm me – he overwhelms me.
My skin pricks and I feel his warm breath on my cheek before he speaks.
“Tell me how you see it. Don’t try and make the words pretty just tell me everything. What do you see?”
It takes a moment for me to focus on the scene and not the way it feels to be this close to Joel. What do I see?
“They’re standing away from the crowd, the festival is in the background – lights, laughter, music – but they’re oblivious to all of it.”
“What does Hector see?”
I shift my focus, imagine myself staring down at Imelda from Hector’s point of view. “He sees a young woman that is fiery and determined. He’s drawn to her beauty and spirit, wants to write music about her and the way she makes him feel.”
“And how does she make him feel?”
“Alive,” I whisper. “Like life never really mattered until now.”
“And Imelda?”
My mouth pulls into a smile as I picture the lovable Hector. “That’s easy. Imelda is drawn to his charm. He makes her lighter and reminds her to stop and smell the roses.”
I open my eyes, feeling the magic of the extraordinary world I’ve created colliding with real life. Joel’s smile is exactly how I picture Hector’s in this first scene and if my insides match the outside, then I’m looking at him just like Imelda looked at her man.
The lights on the stage dim breaking the magic. “Looks like they’re closing up for the night.”
He drops my hands and steps back. “It’s gonna be great, Kitty.”
We gather our things and he leads me through the theater and outside.
“Thank your mom for me. The questions she answered were really helpful.”
He waves me off. “She was happy to do it.”
We’re quiet for a moment as I struggle to stop thinking about the play. I want it to be perfect. Something that I did all on my own and against all odds.
“I know you said you got the idea from your son, but what was it that inspired you to write a tragic love story? Aren’t chicks into happily ever after?”
I smile. “The scene in Coco where Imelda sings. Their story is tragic, but it’s also so beautiful to think that love can conquer anything. Even death.”
“That’s beautiful.”
I shrug. “Well it’s just a story, but it’s nice to dream about.”
“You don’t believe love can conquer anything?”
“Let’s say I’m skeptical. What about you?”
“Love conquering death? No.” He shakes his head. “But I try and live my life in a way that makes conquering death unnecessary.”
Such a Joel answer. Yolo. Except that expression only works when you’re brave and cocky enough to go after everything you want.
“Is Christian excited about the play?”
“He doesn’t totally understand, but he’s excited that I’ve allowed him to watch Coco a handful more times this month while I was trying to get the script just right.”
Talking about Christian, even in passing, feels so strange. I can’t remember the last time a guy my age made any effort to ask about him. And I never bring
him up because that scares guys off faster than I can get his name out.
“And Christian’s father, is he the reason you kept turning me down?”
A laugh filters out into the night as we reach our cars, parked side by side in the lot. Mine reliable and practical and Joel’s Tesla flash and arrogance. Tonight I get to ditch practicality and pretend I belong in his world.
“No.” I tilt my head up and watch the way his face reacts to the news. Is it delight or surprise that I see? “We aren’t together. Never really were.”
“I see.” He runs his tongue over the front of his teeth and looks out over the deserted parking lot.
“Well—”
“So why then?”
I know exactly what he’s asking, but I play dumb. “Why what?”
“Why did you turn me down thirteen times?”
My insides warm. I don’t know if his tally is accurate, but the idea he’s tracked the number of times he asked me out makes me giddy.
“Because you’re Joel Moreno.”
He smirks. “That’s usually a point in the pro column.”
“Don’t act like you tried all that hard to convince me to change my mind.”
His mouth drops open. “Hell if I didn’t. I asked you out every week for nearly five months. I’ve combed through more pickup lines than a fourteen-year-old boy. I had to resort to helping you with your play, which I’m enjoying, don’t get me wrong, but just know I’m doing it to get in your pants.”
“Oh my God.” My outrage is unconvincing as I laugh at his earnest statement.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Just being honest. This is going to end with us naked.”
I want to jump him. Tell him I’ve wanted to sleep with him since the first moment he flashed me the Joel Moreno smile, but I chicken out.
“So, what’s next?”
He leads me to the passenger side of his car and opens the door. “Next, I feed you.”
When we pull up to Araceli’s, the parking lot is packed and there’s a line out the door.
“I really don’t mind if we go somewhere else,” I insist as he opens my door and takes my hand.
The Fadeaway: A Smart Jocks Novel Page 11