“You guess?”
Behind him is Luis, his attention drawn to our conversation, a similar look of shock that has his brow drawn and lips parted. “I’m not surprised,” he says after the shock seems to dissipate. “Poppy’s a gorgeous girl.”
Arlo nods. “She is. I actually was considering dating…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I tell him, not surprised that he considered dating her. Last year, when Poppy and Raegan started at Brighton, I told my friends to watch for them and make sure no assholes were trying to creep on them. Apparently, I hadn’t been specific enough to tell them the warning included themselves.
Arlo and Luis both laugh. “This is good,” Arlo says. “Poppy’s a nice chick. She’s smart, and she’s actually pretty damn funny.”
“Is that what your girlfriend says about you?” Luis jokes.
Arlo grins. “Hell yes. I’m telling you, the way into any girl’s heart is humor.”
“The President tests your logic,” Luis says, grinning as Lincoln comes in.
“Logic about what?” Lincoln asks.
Arlo reaches forward and ruffles Lincoln’s hair. “Nah. He just has all that smolder that makes the girls lose their minds.”
Lincoln knocks his hand away.
“I don’t know,” Luis says. “My girl would probably tell you the way to her heart is food and conversation. I’m telling you, nothing makes her hotter than when she’s talking, and I ask a question about what she’s telling me.” He snaps. “It’s like I turned on a porn.”
Arlo grins but doesn’t say anything, neither does Lincoln. The two of them used to talk about sex, but those details expired as soon as they stopped dating around and got serious. For Lincoln, I assumed it was because it was my sister, but then Arlo did the same, and I’m realizing it’s as much of a respect issue as it is privacy.
“Did you hear he’s dating Poppy?” Arlo asks, looking at Lincoln.
Lincoln’s gaze drops to me as I sit on the bench, lacing my shoes. “Yeah,” he says. “Rae asked me to deliver the same warning speech he’d given me when we started dating.”
I know the significance of him lying on my behalf, and sadly, it’s not the first time he’s stuck his neck out on the line for me. Only a few weeks ago, after a massive bender, Ian had suggested they bench me, and it was Arlo and Lincoln who convinced him not to, and he paid the price. Raegan was furious with both of us and wouldn’t talk to either of us for a full weekend.
“I’m happy for you, man. She’s a huge improvement from Candace,” Arlo says this too loud, his gaze directed at Paulson.
“Let’s get ready. I need the offense to look at some tape. Their defense is going to be tough.
Poppy
Paxton’s football number, thirty-one, is painted on my cheek in red paint—a tiny detail that has this whole façade taking a new turn. Whispers about our relationship are starting to spread. I’m still referred to as “the redhead,” which has been a familiar reference for most of my life, but being noticed is strange and exciting and also a bit intimidating. I was worried that everyone would judge and dislike me, but instead, people I don’t know are being friendly with me and making small talk or complimenting me on my hair and clothes and my smile and my voice and all sorts of random things that continue to surprise and shock me.
I dated Mike for two years, and few people cared, and no one ever paid additional attention to me. We were a pair of wallflowers who shined under the same corner of the sun, but Paxton Lawson basks under the entirety of the sun. People who don’t even like or follow football like and follow him.
“Gosh, that was a close game,” Rae says as we wander through the parking lot in the direction of my car. “They’re going to be in a foul mood tonight.”
“They still won.”
Rae’s gaze meets mine over the hood of my car. “But they should have won by more. I’m sure Coach Harris is giving them an ass chewing. Pax was slow on the release, and Derek dropped that pass, and…” She shakes her head. “It wasn’t pretty.”
The leather of my driver’s seat stings through my jeans. It’s cold tonight, and the loss of the crammed stadium makes it more noticeable. “Maybe we should just go home?”
Rae raises her eyebrows with a silent question.
“I mean, if they’re all going to be in a bad mood and things, it’s just going to be boring, right?”
“They’re starting a new tradition tonight with the bonfire. We can’t miss it.”
“Technically, we could…”
She leans her head back and laughs. “Are you nervous?”
“And freezing,” I add, hoping that’s a viable excuse. “I mean, what’s the statistical probability that I’m going to meet the love of my life tonight anyway?”
“I feel like that’s a personal jab because you know how much I hated statistics.”
I try to laugh, but it sounds more like a scoff. “Okay, I’m a little nervous,” I admit.
“Why are you nervous? I thought the whole point was to be social and mingle? You can’t mingle at home in your pajamas while watching Veronica Mars.”
“Like ten people talked to me tonight, and I had no idea who they were.”
Raegan grins. “Pax posted that picture of you on social media, which the interweb is taking and running with. You’ve been branded.”
“That’s an ugly term.”
“Accurate, though.”
I frown. “Why don’t I drop you off—"
“Are you feeling okay? You didn’t eat anything tonight, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you skip the concessions. Are you coming down with something, or are these just nerves talking?”
“I’m pretty sure fake dating is making me sick. Or giving me an ulcer. What do ulcers feel like?” I shake out my hands as the defroster hums louder, my car still in park. “I’m the worst liar. How are we going to go hang out with Rose and Olivia? They’re never going to believe that I’m dating Pax.”
She grins. “You’re not dating him.”
I cut my
