Page 71 of Play Fake
Me:Okay? What’s up?
Olivia:It’s Waylon’s birthday. Need a cake. Can you grab one and bring it to the party?
I set the phone down like it’s a snake. I haven’t even spoken to the man since we had sex and he’s made no attempt either. If I show up to a party with a birthday cake for him, I’m definitely going to look like I don’t understand the meaning of casual hookup.
Me:I feel like there has to be someone, anyone better suited than me?? Please?
Olivia:Everyone is here or busy. You are my last resort.
Me:You realize it will make me look psycho.
Olivia:Or really sweet?
Me:…..
Olivia:If you text me when you get there, I’ll come out and get it. Then you don’t have to walk in with it.
I sit back again. As much as I don’t want to be involved, I know the birthday rituals the guys put on are important to them. And win or lose, they’ll probably want cake. Shit. Are they winning or losing? I look up at the TV I have on mute just in time to see Liam launch a ball down the field to Easton. He catches it in his arms effortlessly and runs it into the end zone; the crowd goes absolutely wild as they take the lead in the game.
I grin at the TV, but my eyes search the field for him anyway, and I watch as the man in question runs up to Easton and slaps him on the ass before they slam chests together. I laugh, thankful they’re back up.
I need to be reasonable. Waylon and I are friends. I’m the football mom’s second-in-command half the time, anyway. It won’t be weird for me to fill in and bring a cake for once. If it was Liam or Ben or Easton, I’d do it without even thinking about it. So, I need to just get over myself and do the damn thing.
Me:Fine. What kind of cake?
Olivia:One you pop out of?
Me:I changed my mind.
Olivia:I’m KIDDING. Geez. I get them half choc/half van with van icing. If you grab ice cream too, they will all love you for life.
Me:I’ll let you know when I’m on my way.
An hour later I’m dressed up and standing at the grocery store waiting for them to write happy birthday on two cakes. I’m too late to get the ones I wanted, so these will have to do. The late shift bakery worker is also kind enough to do the icing work for me, and I thank them profusely before I run to get the ice cream.
Out the corner of my eye there’s a little display of T-shirts though. Part of the promotional stand for various things and I see a Thor T-shirt. I smirk. It’s not underwear, but it would be a funny gift. Except I didn’t even want to get him cake, and now I’m getting him a gift?
I kick my foot up on the rail of the grocery cart, rocking it back and forth with my heel while I contemplate it. If this was all happening before last weekend, I would have gotten him the shirt. It would have been a joke between friends. And I wouldn’t have second guessed myself about it. So why am I now? It’s just a silly little gag gift, nothing meaningful anyway.
I flip through the display and find a shirt that might just fit him, even if it’ll probably have to stretch to accommodate his chest. I let myself imagine it for point two seconds before I hurry off to grab the ice cream and the rest of the things needed for tonight’s party.
* * *
When I pullup to the house Liam lives in, I thank my lucky stars I’m there early enough I have a spot to park out front and not halfway around the block. I shoot Olivia a quick text and then hop out to get things sorted and ready to get out of the car. I grab the packaged shirt off the passenger seat and stuff it in my purse. I’ve decided I’ll see how things go to know whether to give it to him.
The cakes are huge because football players post game love their fucking carbs. I will absolutely need Olivia’s help getting them in and opening doors, so I lean against the open door of my car while I wait for her to emerge from the house, hoping it won’t be too long because the October air is biting at my bare legs.
I lean back and close my eyes, taking in the smell of the fall leaves mixing with the aromas of the restaurant just down the street. I can hear the sounds of car doors opening and closing and people laughing as the party picks up steam. And then I hear a car pull up just across from me and realize it sounds more like a truck. I freeze, afraid to look because it would be just my luck that it would be him.
Female laughter pours out of the cab as I hear them jump out and I glance over, and yup. Just my luck. Not only is it Waylon, but it’s Easton, Lauren, and another gorgeous little blonde who must be Lauren’s friend. No wonder I haven’t heard from him.
I pull my jacket tighter around me and duck a little, hoping he just won’t look over this way and I’ll be spared embarrassment. That hope lasts all of a fleeting second.
“Mac? Is that you?” I hear Waylon call from across the street and then hear his boots hitting the pavement.
Shit.
“Uh.” I choke on the syllable and clear my throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”
