Drive(77)

I nodded.




“GO!” I screamed at the top of my Latina lungs, jumping next to Nate, who was on his feet yelling the same.

“Oh my God, this is so exciting!” I yelled at Nate, who watched me with gentle eyes. We’d been tailgating all day with a group of his friends, including Marcus, who I met at the concert. We watched from nosebleed seats in the sea of burnt orange. I was buzzed from the shared nips of whiskey and a few beers, and stuffed from the grilled buffet they’d provided. I got introduced to his smaller circle, which consisted of Gabe and Marcus, who sat to Nate’s right. They enlightened me on all things Butler. They told stories that consisted mostly of revealing Nate’s weaknesses. Nate took it in his stride. I felt like one of the guys, and Marcus and Gabe were just as driven and direct as Nate. It felt like I had found my tribe, and oh how I celebrated.

After the Longhorns scored against Kansas State, I shared a fist bump with Gabe, who was within celebratory distance, then wrapped my arms around Nate’s stomach and squeezed.

I felt his chest rumble. “So, today you like football? Because last night I didn’t think you were sure.”

“This. Is. Awesome!” I want to come to every home game,” I stated as I pulled away.

He gave me his sexy signature wink before he slid his sunglasses over his eyes and I studied his profile.

We’ll make our own story.

It was the best thing he could have said without a script of “Things to say to Stella to make her feel unforgettable.” The idea of us drifted through my head briefly before I sank back into the game, enthralled and screaming like a banshee.

“I needed this so much,” I yelled toward Nate before I took a fresh beer Marcus passed down. I pulled ten dollars from my pocket and Marcus shook his head adamantly.

“Hell no, you pay when you get a real writing gig away from this slob,” Marcus protested as Nate gave him the finger without so much as looking in his direction. My teeth were freezing from the perma-smile on my face.

“Thank you!” I took the beer and absorbed my surroundings. I was a journalism student at the University of Texas. I was working at a city paper. The Longhorns were my team. Classmates surrounded me and I hadn’t bothered to interact with a single one.

This is where you move on, Stella.




After the game, Nate carried me over his shoulder as I giggled, completely giddy and a little drunk.

“I can walk, you know,” I protested as the beer sloshed in my stomach with Nate’s every step. I smacked his butt with the foam finger I’d confiscated from Gabe.

“Yeah, well, you were getting a little fucking feisty back there, Stella.”

I laughed. “You don’t like it when I show my Latina.”

“Oh, I promise you,” he slapped back, popping both my ass cheeks as I let out a squeal, “I like all your sides, but you almost got my ass kicked back there.”

“He did look like Bushwick Bill from the Geto Boys.”

“Bushwick Bill is a midget, not a four-hundred-pound man with prison tattoos.”

“In the face, I meant in the face. I don’t know why he found that offensive. And the correct term is little person.”

“He’s three feet tall with a jacked-up eye, that’s why it was offensive. Bushwick is a midget.”

His truck beeped and he set me down in front of it. My face was frozen. I was sure my eyelashes were stuck together and my nose was running. I wiped it away with the cuff of his shirt.

“That shirt now belongs to you.”

“I was planning on keeping it anyway.”

“Butler!” Gabe said, approaching us. “You leaving, man?”

“Yeah,” he said as he smiled down at me like I was shameless. He was right. I was warm all over, especially under gentle blue eyes.

Gabe let down his tailgate and cracked a fresh beer from his cooler, and Marcus appeared out of nowhere, a woman by his side. We barely had time to meet her before Nate was stuffing me into his truck.

“You ashamed of me?” I prodded Nate as I fought him, standing on the running boards of his Tahoe to blow a kiss at Gabe before I pointed my extended foam finger at Marcus. “You the man!”

They laughed as I was stuffed into the seat and Nate managed to strap me in.

“I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself. I’m not inebriated, Butler. I’m passionate!” I laughed at my own inside joke as he lifted one side of his mouth and let out a heavy breath.

Rolling down the window, I decided I wasn’t done with my finger or my farewell. “You kids have fun.” I pointed in their direction. Nate gave them man hugs and soon we were off. I turned on Nate’s radio and “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga echoed out the speakers mid-song.

“Oh, she’s good,” I said, shaking my shit in the passenger seat, playing maestro with my finger.

Nate looked over at me. “You really needed to get out.”

“Right,” I said, pointing our way through the parking lot. I pressed the tip of my finger into his face. “You’re going to take a left up here.” I barked out a laugh as Nate turned the heat up, his laugh echoing mine. Nate sped out of the parking lot in an attempt to miss traffic.

“Why are we in such a hurry?” I asked as he easily navigated us out.