“We, huh? I guess that means I’m invited.”
“You go where I go.” He leans forward and touches his lips to mine.
“A night out sounds fun, actually.” I watch his expression carefully, but he’s stoic. “And I don’t have to be to the rink Saturday until ten so I’m good until at least midnight, when I turn into a pumpkin.”
A small smile tips up one side of his mouth.
“I thought you’d be more excited about it.”
“Excited about a night where I have to dress up and mingle with alumni and boosters?” He cocks a brow.
“A night celebrating with your friends. Since you didn’t get to the night you won.”
He doesn’t respond and goes back to watching his phone.
I set my book aside and scoot closer to him. “Are you doing okay with all this? Really? I can’t tell and I want to be here for you.”
“You are here for me.” He smiles and pokes me.
“Emotionally. You’ve barely said two words about Carrie or the funeral.”
He drops his phone to his lap. “What do you want me to say?”
“Anything.”
“It sucked and I feel awful about what happened. That help?”
“Does it help you?”
“No, which is why I haven’t said anything. It’s over and done, and I’m moving on. Talking about it is the opposite of what I want. Okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Being with you makes me feel better. You’re here for me—physically and emotionally.”
I kiss him. “I’m hungry. Want something to eat?”
“Mmmm.” He hums, kisses me again and mumbles against my lips. “And mentally. I was just thinking about food. You read my mind.”
“Want to go out?” I stretch my legs out.
“Nah, let’s just order something.”
30
Sienna
“I’m worried about Rhett,” I confess to Dakota the next night as we get ready for the party.
“Yeah, the guys are too.”
“Really?”
She nods. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything.”
The pit in my stomach grows. “I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and he isn’t doing anything wrong. He just wants to stay in his room and make out.”
Dakota laughs. “Most girls wouldn’t consider that a problem.”
“I know. I know. The last thing I want to complain about is my boyfriend wanting to have sex too often, but I just have this terrible feeling that he hasn’t dealt with the loss at all.”
“Maybe it isn’t something he can just deal with in a week. I know they were broken up, but he was with her for a really long time. My mom died when I was fifteen, and it took me years to really deal with all the emotions I was feeling.”
“Oh my gosh, Kota, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. I got through it, but there’s still moments where I miss her so much I can’t breathe.”
“I’ve never lost anyone that close to me.”
“He’ll be okay,” she promises. “Give him time.”
She stands from the vanity in Reagan’s room. “How do I look?”
“Hot. The shoes are a nice touch, too.”
She kicks up one leg behind her, showing off the red Converse. Somehow paired with a short black dress, it works. Very Dakota.
“Reagan, hurry up in there!” Dakota yells toward the bathroom.
“My hair is not cooperating.” She emerges, spraying hairspray as she walks. “Is Ginny here yet?”
Dakota shakes her head. Her red hair is at full volume, framing her face in big curls. She plays with a strand, twisting it around her finger. “No, she’s meeting us there. Somehow she got roped into helping set up.”
“All right, then, I think we’re ready,” Reagan says and smiles, looking from me to Dakota. “We are some serious eye candy. Let’s take a photo.”
We cram together, cheesing at the camera, as Reagan snaps a dozen photos of us.
The party is thrown in front of University Hall. A large open tent is set up with a buffet line and bar. The Valley U dance team and cheerleaders are in attendance, as well as the roadrunner mascot. It has a whole Friday Night Lights vibe that I have to wonder isn’t more about the alumni and boosters than the team that just won a national championship.
The guys are set to make a grand entrance so Reagan, Dakota and I grab a drink from the bar and stand as far away from the cheering and dancing section as we can.
Servers in white tux jackets bring out hors d’oeuvres on shiny platters. Old guys stand in groups laughing and talking loudly.
“This is…” I start, not easily coming up with the word.
“Excessive,” Dakota says. “I feel like I made a wrong turn into a fortieth reunion class.”
“You guys.” Reagan stands taller in her red heels. She and Dakota nearly match with their red shoes and black dresses, but their styles are so different, no one would ever notice. “They won a national championship. They deserve excessive.”
“What they wanted was a kegger with drunk girls in skimpy outfits, not shrimp cocktail with old dudes.” Dakota downs her champagne.
“We should do that for them, then,” I say quickly but the more I think about it the more I like the idea. A do-over for Rhett to celebrate with his friends. I know it won’t change what happened, but maybe he’ll at least feel like he got one last hurrah in with his teammates.
“There they are,” Reagan says.
The three of us watch, along with everyone else, as they walk in. Music plays and the cheerleaders and dancers move into action making a path for them to a podium with a microphone.
“That’s Maverick’s dad,” Dakota whispers when a man steps up and welcomes everyone. “Or, I guess he’s Maverick Senior. Mr. Maverick. Weird.”
We chuckle together.
“How do you know?” I ask. “Have you met him?”
“Are you kidding? Just look at him.”
The man introduces Coach Meyers and then Dakota’s assumption is confirmed when Coach comes forward and thanks John Maverick for hosting the party tonight.
As he goes on thanking everyone, Ginny steps up beside us. “I thought they’d at least be in their jerseys.”
“You made it.” Reagan hugs her.
“I was on confetti duty.”
“Confetti?”
“You’ll see,” she says as the first pop sounds. Each of the cheerleaders has a confetti cannon in their hands and they go off each time a player is introduced.
“Look at Maverick. Holy crap,” Ginny says as his name is called. They’re all dressed similarly in dress pants and shirts, but Maverick is striking in a white button-up with rolled sleeves showing off some of his tattoos. His dark hair is styled, and he has a hard set to his jaw. Sophisticated and pissed is a good look for him, even if it makes me sad to see a unsmiling Maverick. His dad squeezes his shoulder with a proud look on his face.
“He does not want to be here,” Reagan says.