Page 80 of Heart of Gold
I can tell by the look on Gavin’s face he’s worried. “You want me to come with you? It’s like four hours?”
“No,” he quips. “You have practice on Monday.”
Gavin doesn’t argue with him, knowing damn well it wouldn’t do any good. Levi isn’t going to let him skip practice.
“Well, I think we’re heading out. This place is a shit show.”
Levi nods again, but this time he doesn’t look up from his phone.
When we make it back to Gavin’s truck, he opens the door for me and I slide inside.
“I want to take you somewhere,” he smiles. “You hungry?”
I smile, “Depends on what you are trying to feed me.”
His boyish grin that I love so much returns, and I want to melt into a puddle on this floorboard next to him.
Grayson would have never arranged a special drink for me at a game, or left an after party early. It just solidifies everything I already know. I’m making the right choice by putting myself out there and seeing where things go with Gavin.
chapter thirty-three
Gavin
After driving fifteen minutes, and a million questions from Quinn about where I’m taking her, we pull into the parking lot of a tiny diner on the outskirts of town. Quinn’s face glows under the giant neon road sign.
“What is this place?” she asks, squinting her eyes up at the sign with some of the bulbs burned out.
“It’s the best. Come on.”
She opens her door and follows me inside, a giant smile takes over her face when she notices the servers are on roller skates. We slide into a small booth in the corner, and when the server comes over, Quinn is still taking everything in.
“Hey Gavin. Haven’t seen you in a few weeks. How is football?”
My usual server, Bridget, grins at me. She’s probably in her late fifties and has the curliest hair I’ve ever seen. “Football is football. This is Quinn.”
She smiles, and grabs Quinn’s hand. “Lord honey, you’ve got your hands full with this one. What do you kids want to drink?”
“You have Coke products?” Quinn asks.
“No ma’am. This is a high class establishment. We have the finest. Pepsi. Mountain Dew. You know? All the southern staples.”
Quinn’s face lights up as she looks at me. “I’ll have Pepsi.”
“What about you, hotshot?” Bridget asks, tapping her pen on the notepad.
It’s still midseason, so Pepsi is out of the question. “I’ll take some water.”
Bridget stalks away, and Quinn leans across the table eagerly. “You know the waitstaff? How often do you come here?”
“Ah, I came a lot over the summer. Most of the college kids don’t know about it so it’s just far enough off campus where I don’t have to deal with anyone.”
“Bridget is nice,” She states.
“Yeah,” I nod. “She takes care of her grandson full time. Her daughter made some mistakes and ended up in jail.”
“That’s awful,” Quinn whispers, right as Bridget comes back with our drinks.
“You know what you want or you need a minute.”
