Next, her sharp blue eyes turn to me, and I wonder what lecture I’ll receive. She gets close—closer than close, and narrows her eyes like she’s looking into a crystal ball.
“You’ve been kissing Nathan.”
I gasp. “How did you know that?!”
She waves me off. “I’m a mom, honey. I’ve always known everything, and I always will. It’s called motherly intuition.”
Lily cackles and then yells, “Bologna! It’s called Twitter! She signed up for a dummy account a few weeks ago and didn’t tell us. She saw your red carpet kiss.” Mom looks affronted. “Yeah, thought I didn’t notice, didn’t ya? Well I did, Mrs. Brightstone!”
“You didn’t,” I say, looking at my guilty mother. Mrs. Brightstone was the name she’d always use when we played dress-up growing up. She was a very wealthy woman—always going to balls in her mink coats. （Don’t throw paint, they were really only scratchy wool blankets.）
“I didn’t think you’d remember! And I had to! I knew you’d start filtering your content if you knew I was following you.”
“What? No way, Mom. You’re cool, and we’ve always known it.”
She smiles and turns with her oversized purse whipping against her hip as she saunters into the kitchen, at which point Lily and I both show each other our wide eyes and crossed fingers.
Mom yells from the kitchen like some sort of supernatural being, “Uncross those fingers, ladies, and gather the boys! It’s time to TikTok!”
At that moment, Dad emerges through the front door, loaded down like a pack mule with enough luggage to last them a month, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead, and a casserole tin clamped under his arm. “Please tell me Nathan is here too. He’s the only one who will be able to talk your mother out of the costumes she brought for the dance video she wants to do.”
I highly doubt that, but still, I throw my dad some hope. “He said he’ll be here.”
I’m almost to Bree’s sister’s house and I’m two hours late. After practice, I was already set to be an hour late, but then I sat on I-605 in traffic for another hour. I’m exhausted. Frazzled. And really wanting to bump the minivan in front of me to get it to go faster even though I think the stick family wearing mouse ears on the back windshield is supposed to deter me. It doesn’t.
Probably should have had my car service bring me, but…I don’t know. Sometimes when I’m tired and I think it would be great to take a nap, I feel the need to push myself harder. Plus I hate taking the SUV to personal events. It feels like I’m showing up with a blinking sign that says, LOOK AT ME I’M SPECIAL!
I let go of the steering wheel to rub my chest. It’s tight, and my heart rate is still high from practice. Bree was probably right—I should have gone home tonight. I couldn’t though. Things finally seem to be happening for us, and I want to demonstrate to her that I can be there for her and have a career in the NFL. I don’t want her to feel overlooked or put aside. I know she values family and events like this, so I want to show up for her. Maybe it’s just because I’m feeling deliriously tired, but during that brief kiss on the couch the other day （and definitely the one in the hallway that I’m still thinking about）， I could have sworn she wanted it just as much as I did. Wanted me.
My wooing is working, and I can’t believe it. All this idiotic stuff the guys told me to do is freaking working. Bree and I are…I can’t even let myself think about it yet. Until I hear the words “Nathan, I don’t see you as just a friend anymore” come straight from her mouth, I’m not going to be able to accept it.
Finally, around eight PM, I pull into Lily’s driveway. It’s dark, but the lights in the house are illuminating the windows, and occasionally a little shadow darts past. After opening my truck door, I can hear absolute mayhem inside. I smile to myself because growing up as an only child, my house was always quiet. I love this. I want this.