Page 57 of Blitz

“Now, if you insist on matchmaking, I know Amir has a thing for your friend Fred,” he says slowly, and a smile spreads across my face.

“Yeah, I think I can make that happen.”

Tucker shakes his head. “Eat your dinner, baby.”

We make small talk through dinner. His brother is in the NBA—riding the bench, but in the professional league nonetheless. Micah is weeks away from declaring for the draft. My mom is doing well. My dad is up to his eyeballs in babies. His mom recently got a new job as a senior partner in a major lobbyist firm, fighting for improvements to the foster care system. His mama’s dental office is expanding; she had to bring on two new partners in the last three years.

It’s easy, being with him. He’s restful company. I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else; I can simply be myself with him.

When we finish our dinner, he clears our table and disappears into the snaking food line. He comes back a few minutes later with protein brownies topped with soft serve and chocolate sauce. A healthy sundae.

“For you,” he says, setting one down in front of me. He drops a kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you. You really went all out.”

Tucker lifts his shoulders in a self-conscious shrug. “I’d do anything for you, too, Princess.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it back.

We finish our dessert in a silence that’s more awkward than usual. When we’re done, he clears the table before I can. He stuffs the tablecloth and the candles into his backpack. Next to his suit and tie, I feel conspicuously underdressed in my leggings and sweatshirt.

He offers me his hand, and I take it. He slides his fingers into mine, and I have to swallow at the intensity in his eyes.

“Love you, baby,” he says, before he drops a chaste kiss to my cheek.

We’re doing this all backwards. We’ve said I love you, we’ve consummated the relationship, and now we’re having our first date. Do we really need to adhere to some arbitrary guideline about how our relationship is supposed to evolve? Our feelings aren’t clear cut. Our history isn’t perfect. I can’t erase our past.

He talks about his developmental psychology class and the group project they’re working on. He chatters the entire walk back to Athlete’s Village. I make the appropriate noises to indicate that I’m listening, but my mind is elsewhere, floating away into the ether.

The football house is warm and bright when we arrive. Tucker hangs up his coat and then takes mine, hanging it on the same hook.

“Come on in and see the guys,” he says, leading me into the open living room.

Wes is sitting in an armchair by the corner, a book in his hand. Amir is sitting across from him in another armchair. The sofa is occupied by Sam and Miles, canoodling together, and Barrett, who looks distinctly perturbed at the sight of them.

Tucker sits in one of the other armchairs, pulling me down into his lap.

“You’re late,” Greg says, appearing over us, and I jump.

“You’re early,” Tucker tells him.

Greg thrusts an enormous bowl at me. Popcorn. Yum.

“Nice to see you again,” he says. His guard is up.

I haven’t forgotten the warning he gave me at the party.

“You, too.” I relax into Tucker’s lap. He slings his arm around me, and I cuddle into him.

Greg passes out popcorn bowls to everyone else—everyone gets their own, except for Miles and Sam, who share. He takes the only empty armchair and nods to Wes, who closes his book and picks up the remote.

The Wheel of Fortune theme song plays and they all chant together: Wheel. Of. Fortune!

Tucker presses a kiss to my temple and tightens his arm around me.

We all call out guesses as more and more letters are revealed. Wes is quiet, his eyes intent on the screen. When he speaks, his voice is rich and thick, confident. He usually gets the clue right, too.

Sam and Miles spend more of their time making out than watching the TV. The only one who seems to care is Barrett, who has to sit next to them. Sam moans. He hugs the other end of the couch.