Looking to Score(38)

He smiled—the nerve of him. Smiling when I was here showing how pathetic I was. “I’d like you as close to my ass as possible for the duration of the evening, Solver.”

That was such an odd statement that I didn’t know which part to pick apart first. “Was that supposed to be sexy?” I asked.

Oakley burst out laughing. “I’m trying here, Amanda.”

“Maybe try a balls joke?” Dale interjected.

“I, like, totally love your ass,” Kelseigh piped in. “I’m an ass girl.” The other two groupies nodded. This was officially awkward. We had an audience, and we were talking about Oakley’s ass.

“I’ll go,” I said. “Not for your balls or ass,” I then quickly added. “I will go because I’m your publicist, and I’m hella good at what I do.”

I stared down Kelseigh and the blondes with a forced grin, then stood up quickly from the table and announced that I had somewhere to be. Really, I was fleeing before this could devolve into something worse than it already had.

“Aww, Amanda, don’t go,” Oakley pleaded. “You didn’t even eat yet.”

“I’m sorry, I wish I could stay. But I have a meeting that I, uh, really can’t miss. Thanks for lunch,” I said as I was gathering my things and getting ready to go. “Bye!” I called and ran out of there like my creepy Uncle Joe had just spotted me at the family reunion.

I was halfway back to the apartment when I realized that the kegger was after the game. This weekend. The same weekend my loving and adoring parents were coming to visit to see how much better I was doing here than in California. Fuck.

Now I had to figure out how to juggle my parents, the game, and keeping them from meeting Oakley. And to top it all off, a freaking kegger to consume my every waking thought instead of the way those girls were hanging all over Oakley. And how much Oakley was loving the attention. And how much I hated how much Oakley was loving it.





18





“This is so exciting!” Mom yelled. Their flight landed at seven this morning, and ever since they got off the plane and smothered me with hugs, she’d been saying that.

“You’re not really wearing that to the game, are you, Tilly?” my dad asked, scrunching his brow. Mom looked like an older version of me, with faker boobs and bigger hair. Her tan looked flawless under the Texas sun, and the crop top she wore showed off her incredible physique. She wasn’t necessarily dressing her age, but she was enjoying herself. That was all that mattered.

“It’s hotter than a meth pipe on payday, Crosby. I worked hard for these abs, and I want to take enough photos for the Facebook. Lacey McGuire can eat my farts. This will get her to stop trying to sell me diet pills. Don’t you ruin this for me.”

Dad chuckled. Unlike Mom, he wore a Proud University of Texas Dad shirt tucked into dark jeans with a brown belt and black tennis shoes. I was so happy to see them, and other than a few comments about my weight loss and the large brunch I had to endure, I was surprisingly happy having them here.

“I got us really good seats, but I’m going to have to disappear after the game to make sure Oakley doesn’t go rogue during his interviews,” I said. The three of us were walking to the stadium. College students passed us by with beer cans in their fists and sloppy sways to their walks.

I had a very vague plan for keeping my parents busy tonight so I could keep an eye on Oakley. I had to find my old bangle flask in my closet and fill it with vodka—mom’s favorite. She wanted to relive the glory days, so I was going to get her very, very, very drunk.

“Are we going to get to meet the Oakley Davis? I sure do like his Instagram posts,” my mom said playfully as she gave me an overexaggerated wink. My dad chuckled and let out a dramatic sigh.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I straight up lied. “But Oakley is the star player, so after the game, he’s going to be very busy giving interviews,” I explained. It was better to let my mom think I was going to try than to tell her no. If I just told her no, she would never let it go. She’d already proven she couldn’t be trusted.

I had arranged to introduce my parents to Dr. Haynes earlier since his office was conveniently on the way to the stadium. We stayed and chatted long enough for Dr. Haynes to tell my parents how well I had been doing, but not long enough for my mom to embarrass the shit out of me. Just kidding. While Dad and Dr. Haynes talked about the industry, Mom looked my mentor up and down, biting her lip.

We had barely made it into the hallway when my mom turned and said a little too loudly, “Amanda! You didn’t tell me how cute he is, you’ve been holding out on me!” My mom had never really been aware of just how loud her voice was. I prayed to whoever was listening that Dr. Haynes hadn’t heard my mom. Or if he did, that he would never bring it up.

“Oh, look at the time, we’ve really got to hurry if we’re going to make it to the gift shop and get you guys all decked out before the kickoff!” I said while gesturing for my parents to walk faster.

“Look at you, Amanda! Using football lingo like it’s nothing!” my dad gushed. It was actually really cute seeing how proud of me they were.

We quickly went to the gift shop, where my parents bought tee shirts, hats, and foam fingers for the game and still made it to our fantastic seats on time. “Mom, do you want something to drink?” I asked innocently.