Page 49 of Quarterback Crush
Dad hesitated, waiting for Mom to leave. He sat on the side of the bed and sighed. “I feel bad that you could never tell me, son,” he said, the threat of tears stinging his eyes. “And I’m sorry that I put that pressure on you. Whatever you decide to study, whatever college you choose to attend, I’m backing you a hundred percent. Like I did with your brothers.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” I mumbled.
“You’ll never be a disappointment, Oliver. In fact, I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” We both pretended our eyes weren’t watering.
He rose and stood at the door. “Hurry up and get well. I think there’s only about half a dozen protein balls left. We need you to get back on your feet and make some more!”
I waved as he left and picked up my phone and texted Maya:Just so you know, I’ll be home all day, hint, hint.
MAYA DROPPED BY AFTERlunch. By that time, Mom had assisted me into the shower by wrapping up my cast in a waterproof liner. It wasn’t fun, but I felt much better afterward.
Maya brought a bunch of flowers, a card and a gift bag.
“Hey, this is original,” I joked.
She smiled and I opened the bag. In it was a Mason jar filled with M&Ms, layered in colors, but in reverse from what I’d done for her.
“Okay, so I did favorite colors on top because I’m nice,” she said sweetly, opening the jar. “I’m not being mean and making you wait till the bottom of the jar to get your favorites.”
“Yeah, but after I eat the orange and green ones, I have to force myself to keep eating down to the brown layer.”
“Such hardship,” she stated with a sarcastic smile. “But if you are struggling, remember I’m willing to help.”
“Oh, you are, are you?” I teased, popping the candy into her mouth.
“Absolutely.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, swallowing one myself before touching her chin and facing her toward me. “You really are the real deal, aren’t you?”
“You betcha,” she said, our noses nuzzling together, the tips teasing as my fingers fluttered across the nape of her neck. Our eyes locked as we were so ridiculously close to one another, and her hand threaded through the back of my hair and down to my shoulders like a caress. Our smiles joined, a cackle of laughter escaping before our lips pressed together, soft and sweet and tasting of chocolate, hearts beating as one, our true authentic selves.
Epilogue
OLIVER
6 months later
I’m at Maya’s house, practicing my presentation for my Senior Project. My portfolio is done, I’ve got my cover page, research essay, documented my timeline, written my summary and now I’m just rehearsing the speech to align with my video. I’m presenting to the evaluating committee on Monday.
My leg healed ahead of schedule. My cast was off in eight weeks and I was walking normally a month later. Apparently my superior fitness and my dedicated physical therapy did that. Plus, I’ve ben spending a lot of time in the gym. These days you wouldn’t know my leg had been broken, well, apart from the scar.
Penny Adlam’s mentorship has been incredible in more ways than one. Apart from helping me with my project, she’s been guiding me on my little business enterprise, Protein Boost Balls. I’ve created a base of four flavors and have been experimenting with ingredients and learning about nutrition, and George is assisting with the groundwork for branding and marketing, which is his expertize. So far, I’m just making them for friends (and Mom and Dad) but once school’s out, I’m going to kick into production (using Penny’s commercial kitchen) and see where it takes me. I’m keen to travel to farmers markets around our area.
And I’m holding off on college for now and will work at Penny’s restaurant to get experience and see if a culinary career is the path I want to take. That will keep me in Snow Ridge, which I don’t mind—it keeps me close to Maya while she finishes high school.
Maya’s lying down on her bed, a captive audience, while I’m standing on the other side of the room.
“How was that?”
“Yeah, good, just remember, strong, clear and confident,” she says, reading from the evaluation rubric. “And express your enthusiasm.”
“I’m out of enthusiasm,” I say, having gone through it twice already, bored of hearing the sound of my own voice.
“What are you wearing? It says dress and grooming must be professional.”
“What? I don’t have a dress,” I say, acting shocked. “Am I going to have to borrow one of yours?”
