Would Britta be into this guy? An unexpected uneasiness settled in my gut.
“Wes.” I shook his hand, gripping a little tighter than I needed to. “I’m here with Britta.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh,” he said, surprise coloring his face. “I, uh, didn’t know she was seeing someone.”
I let his statement hang in the air, answering with only a flat expression.
He adjusted his glasses. “You guys been together long?”
“We met a few months ago.” I tried to keep my answers vague as a moment of doubt crept in, wondering if Britta actually wanted me to do this. He was sizing me up, and I stood a little straighter. In for a penny . . .
“We, uh, dated in high school.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I was hoping to catch up with her again.”
We neared the house, and Jon, Britta’s nephew, ran toward us, clutching the football. “Britta’s friend! Can you throw me the ball? My brother doesn’t think I can catch it, but I told him I could ’cause you taught me.” The kid’s face was red, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, and his smile, missing two teeth, was wide. He tossed the ball to me, and I told him to go long, motioning toward the expansive tract of land behind the house.
Calvin and I watched the kid run back to the stretch of grass near Britta and two other women. He cleared his throat. “This is a little awkward, but I’ve known Britta a long time. I still care about her, so if you hurt her—”
Jon reached a stopping point, and I threw what was arguably a perfect spiral pass. I was posturing for the guy beside me and the woman watching us, but I couldn’t help myself.
I turned to Calvin and raised an eyebrow. “You’ll hurt me?”
He laughed again, a genuine one this time, and his features relaxed. “Probably not, but I’d try. She’s a cool girl. A really cool girl, and always has been. So, just know I’ll be waiting in the wings.”
I glanced at the woman in question laughing at something Jon told her after catching the ball. Britta’s smile brightened, and she looked at me, a happy, curious expression on her face, probably wondering what we were talking about.
I felt bad for Calvin. He seemed like a nice guy, but I didn’t feel bad enough to step aside. “Sorry, man. I think you’ll be waiting awhile.”
I jogged toward Britta, catching a decent pass from Jon as I neared. She looked up at me skeptically, and I shrugged, leaning in to brush my lips against her ear, my arm snaking around her waist.
She stiffened against me, surely surprised by my sudden PDA. I’m doing what she asked and being a buffer, right? That was my excuse for pulling her to me and enjoying the way her curves aligned against my body as she relaxed. It’s allowed. We’re pretending. “It’s possible Calvin thinks we’re dating.” Because I basically told him we’re dating. “How do you want to play this?”
Her expression shifted in recognition as our eyes met. She wrapped her own arm around me. “You are a lifesaver,” she said in a low voice only I could hear, keeping her body pressed to mine, and I thanked God for Calvin.
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When I signed up for FitMi, I mostly did what my coach told me, and I had success. I planned to be more active and assumed I’d build some muscle, but I don’t think I really cared—I don’t think I really wanted it—until recently, when I admitted how much I love seeing what I can do, the goals I’m capable of reaching. You know that kind of wanting where you can see what you desire in front of you and can almost touch it? Where you just know the air will taste a little sweeter once you get it, and it feels like maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance it’s possible? The wanting. Wow. It gets you.
* * *
“YOU’RE SURE YOUR aunt Delia won’t corner me for a rematch?” Wes’s smile put me at ease before he slipped out of the room and walked down the hall toward the restroom.
He’d been a perfect buffer the whole day. It was a miracle they hadn’t brought up the Best Life posts. My aunt asked about it once when Wes was mercifully distracted, and I told her I was hoping to forget about work for the weekend. I hated lying, but I didn’t want to complicate the situation even more than it already was. Whenever Calvin and his family were nearby, Wes stood closer and made a point of touching me. I knew it was for show, that he was doing what I had asked, but it was still nice to feel like part of a couple.
The football game had turned into lunch had turned into games, and by the time it was nearing dinner, my mom insisted Wes stay overnight, that it was too late to drive back anyway. I saw through her thinly veiled ruse, and I was sure Wes did, too, but after some coaxing, he agreed.