Page 35 of Quarterback Crush
I had a restless night, not only from the pain but the seed of doubt that Sammy had planted in my mind. Yes, I conceded that quite possibly Savannah was peeved that I was dating Oliver, but surely not to the extent she’d want me injured. Their breakup had nothing to do with me, I hadn’t caused it, so I shouldn’t be the one she was angry with.
I woke up the next morning to find a clear but crisp day. Typical. The weather had been a bust yesterday, but today was a glorious fall day and I’d be stuck inside. My agenda looked to be movies, movies and more movies with a copious amount of popcorn. Dad had to work and Mom retreated to the spare room/office to do marking. And Sammy said she’d be over after her shift at the grocery store.
I must have dozed because the next thing I knew, Mom was calling my name and tapping me. “Maya? Maya, darling, you have a visitor.” She leaned closer and whispered. “Oliver’s here.”
At the mention of his name, I was instantly awake, pulling myself up from my slouched position. I rubbed my eyes and could only pray that my hair didn’t resemble a bird’s nest.
“Come in,” Mom was saying as I pushed aside the blanket and Mom moved the ottoman in position so I could elevate my foot.
“Hi Maya,” Oliver said, stepping forward.
I drew in an audible gasp to see Oliver with a bunch of flowers and a gift bag in his hand. Surely this was over the top. A simple card would have been sufficient, but even that was unnecessary.
“Oliver, you didn’t need to bring me anything,” I said.
“I wanted to,” Oliver said, moving the pillow my foot had been on and taking a seat at the end of the couch. I took the bunch and sniffed at them, but in such a fluster, I couldn’t tell if they were scented.
“Thanks, they’re gorgeous.” I didn’t want to tell him, but they were the first flowers I’d ever been given. “I love them.”
“You’re welcome,” Oliver said, handing me the silver gift bag, “And this is for you too.”
“A gift? Aww.” I smiled, feeling a little guilty. Fake dating didn’t require real gifts. “You shouldn’t have.”
I opened the bag and peered in. I pulled out a small plastic container and opened it. Nestled in a kitchen paper towel were four small truffle-like balls. They looked home-made. And that’s when it clicked.
“You made these? These are your protein balls?”
“Yep,” Oliver said, lowering his eyes shyly and pointing in the container. “The white ones are coconut and almond and those are peanut butter and chia seed. Your favorite flavors.”
“Oh, wow!” I was touched he’d remembered.
“Try one,” he said, and I delicately picked up the peanut butter one and popped the whole thing in my mouth. The flavors swirled around my tastebuds, tantalizing my tongue. “There’s seven grams of protein in each one. I eat them after training for a recovery snack, but who knows, maybe they can help with your recovery.”
“They are seriously good,” I said, licking my lips together.
“There’s more,” Oliver said, pointing to the gift bag.
A smile swallowed my whole face as I brought out a Mason jar filled with M&Ms. The candy had been layered so that at the bottom there was an orange layer, then a green one, followed by the other colors, with brown on top.
“It’s in order from worst to best,” Oliver said, “so you get to eat your favorites last.”
Staggered that he’d remembered the order in which I’d ranked the different colors on our first date, I could only gasp and said, “Well, I don’t like to call any M&M the worst, more like least preferred.”
“You’re right. There’s no bad M&M.”
I held the jar up, in complete awe. “How many bags did you have to buy to do this?”
“Never you mind,” Oliver said, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “Let’s just say I had to eat quite a few blue ones to make things even.”
I giggled. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” I said. And then I bit down on my lower lip because that sounded...too real.
And none of this was real. Well, not for him.
“Hey, do you want a drink? A juice or soda?” I asked quickly, heat rising up my neck. “But you’ll have to get it yourself, sorry.” I pointed apologetically to my foot.
“Sure,” Oliver said, standing up. “Can I get you something too?”
“Yeah, juice would be good. Thanks.” I wasn’t thirsty but I needed a moment to absorb Oliver’s gesture.
