The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(12)

Like the man that he is, Crew lifts the pizza off the plate and takes a large bite. He chews and swallows before nodding and saying, “Yup, it’s good. I think it might be the altitude affecting us.”

“That or we have immature palates, and we should be ashamed.”

“Maybe a little of both.”

“How about we make a pact for the trip?”

“Another pact?” he asks, one brow lifted.

“Yeah. How about, during this trip, we step outside our comfort zones and experience the essence of all things German? I say we try all the food we come across that we’ve never had before.”

“Immerse ourselves in the culture.”

“Precisely.”

“Okay, I can agree to that.” He winks and takes another bite. “But when we’re in the air, we eat what we want.”

“Agreed. There’s an ice cream sundae calling my name and there’s no way I’m passing that up.”

“Same.” He chuckles. “Now, are you going to ask me your question, or keep me waiting in suspense?”

“Keeping you waiting sounds like fun.”

“Or, we can ask each other two questions while we eat.”

“Umm, how is that fair? I won the game.”

“Fine. You ask two, I ask one.”

“I still don’t see how—”

“Humor me, Hazel,” he says in a pleading tone, with those brown puppy-dog eyes of his. Ugh, the devil himself would relent to those eyes.

“Fine. I’ll go first,” I say, giving in with barely a fight.

“Lay it on me.”

“What ever happened with Pearl? All you said was you broke up, but I don’t believe there wasn’t more to it. You were infatuated with her.”

“Why did I know you were going to ask about her?” he practically growls in frustration.

“Because you know I’m nosy and I’ve been holding on to that question for years, waiting for the right moment to ask you.” I stab my fork through my salad. “You know, Pops never liked her.”

“I know,” he says softly.

Pearl was Crew’s high school girlfriend. She came to visit with them one summer, only for a few days, not the entire time that Crew and his family came to visit, and she was freaking awful. Wouldn’t get dirty and help with the chores, refused to brush the horses, and didn’t even attempt to eat the food Pops prepared. She was insulting, to say the least.

“So, what happened with her? All I know is one day Pops came barreling out of the main house, arms waving in the air, yelling in excitement about the breakup.”

“Of course he was a showman about it.” Crew dabs his face with his napkin. “Honestly, I thought she was going to be the girl who waited for me while I went through college. She wanted me to stay somewhere local in California when it came to college, but I wanted to go wherever I got the best education and a chance at growing in my sport. When she found that out, she said she wouldn’t wait for me, and I told her not to. That was that.”

“After four years, that’s how it ended?” I ask, surprised.

“Yup. Although, I think it was starting to go sour before that. My senior year was fun without her.”

“I could have told you she wasn’t the one after her visit to the farm. She wasn’t really kind . . . to anyone. Especially to me.”

Crew rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s one of the reasons why I started to see the real her, because who couldn’t like Hazel Allen?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” I pretend to primp my hair. “I’m an absolute delight to be around.”

“Especially after a hard day shoveling horse shit.”

“If I could bottle up that smell, you know I’d give you a lifetime supply.”

“Thank God you can’t.”

I butter my roll. “Okay, your turn. What’s your question?”

Turning toward me, he forces me to look at him by pressing his finger to my chin and turning my head. “Are you mad at me?”

See, this is why I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to his terms. He presses until he gets what he wants, and that’s what he’s doing now.

“Mad at you? For what?” I ask, playing nonchalant. I was hoping he’d ask me something stupid and simple like I’ve asked him, something about the past, something that didn’t have much substance behind it. But he goes and asks the hard-hitting question.

“Don’t play with me, Hazel.” His voice booms with authority. Reminds me of Pops. “Are you mad at me?”

I nibble on my lower lip while I set my silverware down on my tray. I fold my hands in my lap and tear my eyes away from his. He won’t drop this. I know he won’t, so there’s only one thing to do. Tell the truth. “A little,” I answer.

“Why?”

I shake my head. “You only get one question.”

“Hazel.”

“I’m serious. One question. That’s it.”

“I’m serious too. I’m not about to go on some crazy unknown journey through Germany with you while I know you’re mad at me.” He tugs on a loose strand of my hair playfully. “Come on, Haze, talk to me.”

“I don’t want to do this here, on an airplane.”