Page 45 of Wildcat
And so it continues. He’s humble and polite and either a really good actor or genuinely excited to interact with fans.
He spends almost ten minutes with an old man who won’t stop talking, and even as I intervene, giving Leo an out and trying to move things along for the people patiently waiting their turn, Leo refuses to walk away until the man pats him on the back and wishes him a good season.
We’re playing catch up for the next half-hour. The end of the line is in view, and I shift on my feet, wishing I’d worn different shoes today. Leo, who doesn’t miss anything, glances at me, and a smile pulls at his lips. He signs a foam finger, takes a photo, and then pauses on his way to his chair.
“Sit,” he says and motions to his seat.
“I’m fine.”
“We have a few minutes. That’s Ash’s girlfriend and her friends.” He pulls the chair out. “Sit.”
My pride would really like for me to insist on standing, but my toes are pleading for mercy.
I sit, take off my heels, and let out a groan. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” He fidgets with a Sharpie.
If I’m going to be on a four-day road trip with him, I need to clear the air and make sure it won’t be awkward. Or less awkward, anyway.
No matter how much I want to dislike him or be angry at him for not telling me who he was that first night, or for kissing me and then leaving and then coming back and kissing me again, one thing is clear – Leo is a nice guy. It would be so much easier to forget about him if he wasn’t.
I decide to give him a peace offering. “He had food stuck in his teeth for an hour.”
“What?” Leo cocks his head to the side to look at me.
“My date last night. I couldn’t decide if I should tell him or not. Normally, I would, but first date, you know? I debated for too long, and I got really uncomfortable and nervous. I couldn’t even look at him. For thirty minutes, I probably didn’t hear anything he said.”
Leo laughs. It starts light and grows into a hearty, rich sound that breaks the uneasiness between us.
“That isn’t even the worst part,” I say.
He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for the rest.
“We sat at the bar after dinner, chatting and drinking. At one point, he leaned in like he was going to kiss me, and that’s when I finally decided to tell him. I held up my hand like this and cringed.” I reenact it, making a cross with my fingers like I’m warding off a dark spirit. “He recoiled back, and before I could explain, he’d paid our bill and called us an Uber.”
Leo is full-out laughing now, head thrown back.
“I don’t think I’ll be hearing from him again.” Not that I really want to. We didn’t really seem to connect, food-in-teeth disaster aside.
Movement beside us catches my eye. The line is moving again, so I stand and step into my shoes. Leo moves closer and takes my hand as I wobble.
His touch sends goosebumps racing up my arm. After I’m steady with my feet squeezed back into my heels, neither of us moves. It feels like there are a lot of unsaid things hanging between us, but neither of us speaks as I hold tight to his hand.
“Leo!” Someone calls to him, and I pull away and let out a long breath.
For the rest of the line, I keep my distance and take a dozen more photos of Leo with fans.
When the final person is through, Blythe thanks the guys, and Assistant Coach Peters lets them know they need to be at the plane in two hours.
“Busy day,” I say as we head back into the building.
“Yeah.”
The awkwardness has crept back in, and I don’t know what to say.
“Your car should be here by lunch.”
“Oh right. Thank you. I assume I can call and make a payment?”
