But of course, we know I don’t.
“You look good, Mandy,” he says, his voice low. Sexy. “I like your hair.”
I flip my long, wavy hair behind my shoulders so he can’t see it anymore. “Thanks.”
“Nice shirt.” He sounds amused and I glance down at myself. I’m wearing a silky oversized shirt with a deep V-neck, and wouldn’t you know it, there’s a hint of cleavage going on. Not too much because I wasn’t going for obvious, but just enough so that Cade would catch a glimpse and hopefully be…what? Intrigued?
Looks like I intrigued the wrong person.
“You’re a perv,” I mutter, bringing my hair back forward with my free hand so I can cover my chest.
He chuckles, and the sound ripples along my nerve endings, making me shiver. It’s like he’s actually with me, but he’s not. It’s weird. It feels…normal, talking to Jordan like this, even though it’s been years.
“I have to go,” I tell him when he still hasn’t said anything.
“Where’s your date?”
“Waiting for me.”
“Where are you at?”
I almost swing around and show him the restaurant, but decide against it. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I would.” He’s very serious. “Talking with you like this is…strange. But nice. I’ve missed you. Our friendship.”
Ah. The two words that are like a splash of ice cold water in my face. Just the reality punch I need to get me out of this confusing conversation, so I can escape staring at his stupid gorgeous face. He just misses me as a friend. Nothing more. Gotta remember that.
“Right. I’ll talk to you later, Jordan.”
I end the FaceTime call before he can say anything else and hurry back into the restaurant, smiling at Cade when he spots me heading his way. I try my best to ignore the frustration building up inside of me. And the unease. Seeing Jordan like that unsettled me, and I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
JORDAN TUTTLE DATING GIGI HADID!!
The headline on the gossip site is in all caps and uses two exclamation points, which I suppose makes it true?
As I read the short article that’s filled with very few details, posted yesterday afternoon, it claims Jordan was spotted with Gigi on Saturday night at a very small, very exclusive restaurant in San Francisco.
Um, I FaceTimed Jordan Saturday night, and it looked like he was at home. Not that I’ve ever been there, but from the shadowy background I saw, I assumed he was in his living room. And seriously, I don’t think he’d be talking to little ol’ me if he had a chance to go out to dinner with a beautiful supermodel.
I’m also pretty sure Gigi is going out with someone even more famous than Jordan. Like one of those One Direction dudes, right? Maybe? I can’t keep up.
None of that matters. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it. About her.
About him.
“So you had fun with Cade?” We’re out to lunch, Lena and I, at a tiny hamburger joint not far from work. She’s been dying to talk about my date since this morning, but we’ve been so busy with clients, we haven’t had a chance. She made me promise that we’d chat during lunch so now here we are.
“We had a great time.” After the annoying call from Jordan, I went back into the restaurant and apologized profusely to Cade for temporarily abandoning him. We ate our dinner and it was delicious. We went to the movies and were entertained. He took my hand as he walked me to my front door and he gave me a sweet, simple goodnight kiss before I slipped inside my apartment.
Confession time: I thought of Jordan when Cade kissed me. I dreamed again of Jordan that night. I threw myself into cleaning my apartment all day yesterday and fell into bed a little after nine o’clock, totally exhausted. I purposely wore myself out so I wouldn’t dream, but yeah. That didn’t work.
Had yet another dream about Jordan last night. A rather vivid one involving naked body parts. I woke up in a sweat, irritably turned on.
No way am I telling Lena any of this.
“I bet you did. I think he’s dreamy.” For the quickest moment, I think Lena’s talking about Jordan. But she’s not. Of course she’s not. “I like his hair.”
“He has nice hair,” I agree. There’s no denying Cade is attractive.
“And eyes. Dark brown eyes get me every time,” Lena continues with a sigh.
Wait a minute. “Are you crushing on Cade?”
“Me?” She rests a hand on her chest, her eyes wide. “No. Absolutely not.” She takes a giant bite out of her hamburger…maybe so she doesn’t have to say anything else?
Hmmm.
“Lena…” I draw out her name, sending her a look. I hope my suspicions aren’t true, because if they are, this makes me feel like crap. Maybe she’s been into Cade all along and she thinks I swiped him from her? If she did like him, I didn’t have a clue. Like not one clue whatsoever.
“Oh my God.” Lena buries her face in her hands, her voice muffled against her palms. “Please don’t make me say this.”
“I’m totally going to make you say it,” I tell her firmly, curiosity getting the better of me. I have to know. The thing I like about Lena is she’s always honest with me. We tell each other stuff straight up. “Come on.”
“Fine.” She drops her hands, her gaze meeting mine. “I’ve liked him from the very moment I saw him walk through the door, okay? He caught my eye, and I was totally interested. We started talking, I started flirting, he flirted a little bit back and then…he starts asking me about you.” The disappointment on her face is painfully obvious.
“Oh, Lena.” I feel terrible. Awful.
Especially since Cade isn’t on my mind at all. Instead, I’m consumed with thoughts of Jordan.
“He’s totally into you, and he just sees me as a friend.” She shrugs. “Guess I missed my chance.”
She’s obviously miserable, and I’m miserable too, because honestly? I’m not that into Cade. He’s kind. Funny. Good looking. Easy to talk to. I have nothing against him. He’s a perfectly nice guy. We had a good time on the date, but there weren’t really any sparks. Do I want to continue dating him? Can I imagine—having sex with him?
Um, that would be a no.
I’m about to tell her she can have Cade when my phone starts an incessant buzzing, rattling against the table where I left it. I glance at the screen to see it’s the same number Jordan texted and FaceTimed me from on Saturday night.
For real?
I ignore it, flipping my phone over so it rests screen down on the table.
“You going to get that?” Lena asks. We’re always worried we’re going to get called back into work before our lunch hour is through.
“It’s a spam caller. I’ve probably won another all-expenses paid vacation to Orlando.” Perfect excuse. We gripe to each other about those calls from Elizabeth at Hilton Vacations all the time.
“Are you lying to save my feelings, Amanda?” I’m about to respond, but she keeps talking. “Was it Cade? Is he wanting to hook up for a quickie during lunch? I won’t hold you back, you know. I’m all about the lunch break hookup.”
“No, God, Lena, it wasn’t Cade asking for a quickie. Just…” I lean across the table, peering at her. “Do you really have a thing for Cade?”
“Of course not.” She sits up a little straighter. “Not anymore.”
She’s lying. I can tell by the tone of her voice, her body language. “I never knew—”
“I never told you, so don’t feel guilty, okay? You have no reason to feel guilty,” Lena says quickly.
“It’s just that—”
She cuts me off again, rising to her feet as she keeps talking. “It’s okay. Really. I need to use the restroom.”
I watch her take off, my appetite leaving with her. This is a mess. If she really likes Cade, I don’t want to ruin her chance with him. But does he like her? Or is he totally into me and won’t even give Lena a chance? And then there’s Jordan…
Grabbin
g my phone, I flip it over to find I have a voicemail. I immediately check it.
Hey Mandy. Wanted to see if you and your boyfriend wanted to come to my game tonight. I left suite tickets at roll call so if you’re interested, just give them your name at the window. Maybe we could catch up after the game? See ya.
I set my phone down on the table, my head spinning. Okay. I don’t think I want to keep dating Cade, but I am so bringing him to this football game tonight. I’ll just tell Lena I’m not into him later.
“You want to go to the game tonight?” Once we returned to work, I went in search of Cade and found him sitting in the break room, watching an old episode of Jerry Springer on TV and scrolling through his phone, an empty bag of snack-sized Doritos sitting in front of him.
He lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “You mean the football game?”
“Yeah.” I nod enthusiastically, flashing him a smile. I am a bad person for using him like this, but come on. He’ll want to go. What guy doesn’t love football? And once we go to this game, I’ll cut him loose. Maybe Lena and Cade can end up together and it’ll be a beautiful, magical thing. “The Niners are playing.”
“I know,” he says carefully, studying me like I might have a mental problem. “This game has been sold out for months.”
“Really?” I had no idea.
“Really. How did you get tickets?”
“I have a connection,” I hedge.
“Who’s your connection?”
Why is he asking so many questions? “Um, you’ll never believe who it is.”
“Try me.” He crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair.
“Jordan Tuttle—we, uh, used to date.”
Cade sits up straight, his mouth hanging open. “You dated Jordan Tuttle?”
I hate this. The notoriety that comes with dating a well-known athlete, even though it’s been years and we were together before he became a big deal. I wonder how all of Tom Brady’s exes feel. I find it a complete pain in the ass, if I’m being truthful. “It was a long time ago. High school stuff,” I tell Cade.
“And he just so happened to give you tickets for tonight’s game.” The doubt in his voice is clear.
“We’ve, uh, recently reconnected.” I’m not explaining it any further than that. I can’t tell him Jordan FaceTimed me during our date. That’ll sound crazy. “He offered me two tickets to tonight’s game. In one of the suites. They’re holding the tickets at will call. Would you like to go with me?”
His answer is immediate. “Sure. Definitely. Maybe I could meet Tuttle, or any other Niner who’s around.” He rises to his feet, smiling down at me. “You like football?”
“I love football.” This is not an exaggeration. I’ve loved the game since I was little. I watched so many games with my father, even went to a few live ones, but those were rare since they’re so expensive and we were a family on a budget. I swear I joined band just so I could go to all the games in middle school and high school.
“Great.” Cade’s smile grows. “We should leave from here then. We won’t have much time to get over to the stadium.”
Crap. Cade’s right, I know he is, but I wanted to go back to my apartment and change first, reapply my makeup and maybe even take a quick shower. I want to look damn good for my first encounter with Jordan after all these years. Not see him wearing an Atlas Wellness Center red polo and a pair of black pants I bought on clearance from Athleta. My hair is in a high ponytail and I didn’t wash it last night…
I am definitely not my best self right now.
“Yeah, okay.” I don’t have a car. Cade does, but do we want to deal with parking, or just take the BART?
“I’ll drive,” he offers like a mind reader, and I nod.
“Okay, yeah. Sounds good. Can’t wait.” I offer up a wan smile. I really should be more enthusiastic about this, but now I’m just a bundle of anxiety. “We’ll leave around five then?”
“Yep. I’m really glad you asked me to go with you, Amanda.” He leans in and drops a quick kiss on my cheek, smiling at me. “I’ve got to go. I have an appointment arriving in five minutes.”
“See ya,” I say softly just as I spot Lena standing in the distance, watching us with a hurt expression on her face.
She leaves before I can say anything.
I am a nervous wreck.
No, seriously, I feel all hopped up on caffeine and I haven’t drunk a drop since this morning’s first and only cup of coffee. Cade has been a perfect gentleman during the entire sometimes-frustrating-because-of-awful-five-o’clock-traffic drive to the stadium, not asking me any questions about my past with Jordan, which I appreciate. He’s accepting of the entire situation, though he did express worry as we approached the will call window.
“You sure those tickets are going to be there for us?”
“Yes,” I say with as much positivity as I can muster. Deep down, I’m scared the lady at the window is going to laugh when I give her my name and tell me, “As if.”
But she doesn’t. I say my name, show her my ID and she hands over an envelope with my name handwritten on it in an unrecognized scrawl. “Go through that entrance,” she tells me, and points toward a gate that has hardly anyone near it but two big burly security guards.
I show one of the burly dudes our tickets and he gives me a skeptical look, even though his eyes are covered by mirrored sunglasses. Cade doesn’t say a thing, and I’m thankful he’s not making a big deal out of this.
But oh my God, it feels like such a big deal. I haven’t seen Jordan in the flesh since we were nineteen. We’re twenty-five now. It’s been six years. Six long years. And though I saw him for a few minutes on that FaceTime call and I see him pretty much every Sunday or when I’m watching ESPN, which is more often than you’d think, it’s not the same as actually being with him.
“Tuttle’s been the quarterback for only two seasons,” Cade says as we make our way to the private suite where we’re going to watch the game. The hallway is mostly empty, and I know we missed the start of the game, which bums me out. “He replaced Drew Callahan when he was picked up.”
“I remember Drew Callahan.” Gorgeous. Excellent QB. “Did the Niners trade him?” I am totally faking. I know exactly what happened. I just don’t want to seem like a total Jordan Tuttle stalker.
“No way. Callahan was amazing,” Cade says wistfully. “Had a couple of injuries and he decided that was enough. He retired early, and now he’s a commentator on the Football Network.”
“That’s awesome,” I murmur as we keep walking, drinking in our surroundings. Our footsteps echo down the hall and I can hear the roar of the stadium crowd in the near distance, the announcer telling them something I can’t quite make out.
“Do you come and watch the games?” Cade asks, sending me a suspicious look.
Right. If I went to the Niner games all the time, I would totally look like a Jordan Tuttle stalker. But luckily enough I can answer…
“No. My dad took us to a couple of the games when they were still at Candlestick Park, but that was forever ago.” Back when he would get free season tickets from one of the guys he worked with who didn’t want to go to the “boring” games. We made a day trip of it, Dad taking us kids while Mom stayed home since there were only four tickets. It was a lot of fun, but we were only able to do it twice.
“That’s cool, that you were able to go to Candlestick,” Cade says. The stadium had been torn down years ago.
“It was a lot of fun,” I agree, feeling nostalgic. Everything about the last few days has me feeling nostalgic, like I’m taking a stroll down memory lane.
“Oh look, here’s the suite,” I say, my voice coming out high pitched. I’m terrified, my hands shaking as Cade pushes the door open for me. I walk in first, gazing around the cavernous room filled with people. There’s a table to the right covered with food, a bar set up to the left with two men serving drinks.
And ahead of us, a giant window that looks out onto the field, stadium sea
ting directly in front of it.
“Wow,” Cade says with a low whistle as we both stop and stare. The first quarter is almost over, and we can see the players out on the field. He’s staring at them in wide-eyed wonder, looking like an excited little boy, and I can’t help but feel the same way.
I’m going to see Jordan tonight. Face to face. In the flesh. We’ll be in the same room. Sharing the same air.
God, I feel a little faint.
“Hello, are you guests with us tonight?” A very tall, very pretty blonde woman stops in front of us, a friendly smile pasted on her face. “May I see your tickets, please?”
“Yes, we are.” I hand the envelope over and the woman checks our tickets, then hands the envelope back over, which I stuff in my purse.
“Perfect. I’m your suite’s 49er Ambassador for the evening, and I’m so happy to have you. As you can see, we have our buffet.” She waves her hand like a game show hostess showing off the prizes. “And there’s plenty to drink, including alcoholic beverages. All of it is complimentary.”
“Thank you. It looks great,” Cade says with an enthusiastic nod.
“Don’t forget to check out the stadium seating so you can watch the game up close. We hope you have a great time,” she says, her smile growing, showing off a straight row of perfect white teeth. “Enjoy your evening!”
The moment she walks away, Cade has his hand on my elbow, guiding me toward the buffet table. “Let’s get some food,” he suggests. “I’m starving.”
I’m too nervous to eat, but I grab some crackers and cheese, a little dab of hummus and some carrots. We head over to the bar and the cute bartender hands me a glass of white wine with a wink and a smile. I go and stand with Cade in the corner of the room, watching as he downs chicken wings slathered in buffalo sauce and dipped in ranch.
“Are they any good?” I ask, wincing when he almost drops the half-eaten wing on his shirt.
“Delicious,” he says, setting his beer on the table beside us so he can wipe his mouth with a napkin. At least he grabbed a napkin. The last guy I dated—and we went on exactly two dates—was anti-hygiene. As in, he didn’t believe in deodorant because it was poison, he confessed to me he rarely bathed, and he basically lived in a dump with five other guys. He was a total dirt bag.