Page 21 of Quarterback Crush
“Hey, c’mon guys,” he said as Darwin wanted to relive his three touchdowns yet again, “we can go over all that tomorrow at Coach’s. You can see I’m on a date.”
Oliver smiled at me with a wink and Darwin immediately patted Oliver’s shoulder and said, “Gotcha, boss.” And they retreated with a laugh.
Huffing out a sigh, Oliver rolled his eyes. “I thought they’d never leave.”
“Well, I guess this was the plan, you know, to be seen,” I said.
Oliver pressed his lips together, conceding with a nod. With our food delivered, Oliver seemed to have no interest in conversation, only scoffing down his burger and fries as fast as he could. I presumed that he’d decided we’d been seen by enough people, that Pippa had probably spread the word back toSavannah and he was now in a rush to end the date. I tried to hurry with my macaroni and cheese but the sticky, creamy pasta refused to digest quickly.
Shifting in his seat with impatience, Oliver scanned the room before glancing down at my half eaten plate of food. I swallowed a clump of pasta and pushed the plate aside.
“You’re done?” he asked with a look of sheer joy.
My mouth twitched as I noticed the large diner clock on the wall. The movie didn’t start for another hour, so was Oliver abandoning the date early? Was this a world record for the shortest date ever? Would I have to sit in the movie theater on my own to avoid the embarrassment of being homehoursbefore my curfew?
“Sure,” I muttered as the humiliation of a failed first date loomed. With Oliver pushing back his chair, I excused myself for the restroom. It might add a few minutes to the date at least.
Thankfully the restroom was empty, so I fluffed at my hair and inspected my face, willing myself not to cry, Sammy’s words haunting me. She’d warned me about getting hurt—but I wouldn’t let her be right. I couldn’t get all sentimental over this.
You’re fake dating him, Maya, that means it’s not real. You knew the deal!
With a smile plastered on my face, I walked out, finding Oliver at the counter talking to Pippa.
“All good?” He unexpectedly swept his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.
Assuming Pippa’s narrowed gaze was one of suspicion, I played my role to the max, resting my head against Oliver’s chest. “Yep,” I squeaked, inhaling the fresh scent of his hoodie and savoring the closeness. Real or fake, it was happening, yep, beyond my wildest dreams, Oliver was cuddling me so I may as well enjoy it.
Oliver walked me out to his truck, his arm still around me even when we were out of sight of the restaurant and in the outer corner of the parking lot.
“I guess that did the trick,” I said.
“The trick?” Oliver asked as we buckled up our seat belts.
“I’m pretty sure I saw Pippa take a photo of us just now. I’m sure she’ll show Savannah.”
Oliver gripped the steering wheel, making no attempt to start the car. “Hey,” he said, turning to me, “would you be disappointed if we didn’t go to the movie?”
My chin involuntarily wobbled. How quickly one could go from cloud nine to rock bottom.
“No, of course not,” I said, knowing there was no other answer. I couldn’t demand that he take me to the movies! I was already thinking that I might save face if I asked him to drop me off at the corner to our street and walked around the block a couple of times before going inside and telling my parents that tickets were sold out.
“I just don’t feel like sitting in a movie theater with a bunch of other people,” Oliver said. “Would you mind if we took a drive instead?”
“A drive?”
“Sometimes I just wanna get away from it all,” Oliver said, his gaze pensive for a moment, before he flashed me a grin. “I brought a blanket and some snacks.” Leaning over, he popped the glovebox compartment and the sight of a bright yellow bag of M&Ms sent a wave of relief and pure joy washing over me. And it wasn’t because I was a candy lover, no, it occurred to me that Oliver didn’t want to end the date just yet.
“That’s a yes?” Oliver asked, his grin widening.
“I am an M&M fan,” I stated. “Peanut ones especially.”
“Whew, what a relief.” Oliver laughed.
“Isn’t everyone?” I asked.
“Uh, no, not everyone,” Oliver said, wrinkling up his nose.
Oliver drove up to the viewpoint at Paradise Peak and parked the car. He dragged the blanket and a black puffer jacket from the backseat and we sat down at a picnic table. Only one other vehicle, a camper van, was there, the area more popular in spring and summer and on cloudless days rather than on the gray overcast skies of November.
