Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (21 page)

“You don’t trust him?”

“Oh, I trust
him
. But I don’t trust them. I don’t want any of their hands or mouths or tongues on my boyfriend.”

I grimace at the thought and follow her to the dance floor, where she forcefully makes her way through the crowd of girls and lays a huge kiss on Luke’s mouth.

If girls are acting like this around Luke, knowing his girlfriend is
here
, how are the girls of New Orleans acting around Adam?

Adam

On Saturday, I wake up at 4:00 a.m., fifteen minutes before my alarm is supposed to go off.

I guess I’m excited to catch my plane to Columbia.

As predicted, Coach told us at the end of practice yesterday to take a long, relaxing weekend and that he’d see us on Tuesday. Which is good for me since I had already booked my flight back to New Orleans for Monday.

After talking to Courtney for a few minutes last night, I feigned exhaustion, got off the phone, and then checked in with my mom to make sure that everything is ready for the surprise engagement party. She swore that it is, and after hanging up with her, I texted both my brothers to make sure they’re coming (they are); Sophie, Willa, and Kate to make sure that none of them had told Courtney (they all separately swore they hadn’t); and Luke to make sure that he had a ticket for me to the Mizzou game (he does).

I considered emailing the athletic office to get a ticket, but then realized that the athletic coordinator will want to show me off to alums and donors and probably have me walk out on the field before the game or something. This week, I want to be more discreet than that. I just want to surprise my fiancée, tailgate for the first time in years, watch a good game, and hang out with my friends.

Luckily, Luke has access to tickets since he’s technically press, and I knew he’d give me one without any strings attached to it.

After taking a quick shower, getting dressed, and making myself a cup of coffee, I sit on the couch, anxiously waiting for the cab to pick me up. At 4:30 on the dot, the cab pulls up and as my phone rings, I’m out the door, suitcase in hand.

Six and a half hours later, including a stop in Chicago—where I made a point to take a photo of myself in front of the bagel place Willa and Dan met—Luke picks me up at the airport.

“Hey, man,” he says, as I throw my suitcase in the bed of his truck and climb into the passenger seat.

“Thanks for coming to pick me up. I know it’s early for a Saturday,” I say, looking pointedly at the clock, which reads just a little after 11:00 a.m.

“Not at all,” he says. “When you’re the editor-in-chief of the newspaper, sleeping in becomes a thing of the past.”

“How’s all that going?” I ask.

“Good. I mean, I really miss writing and reporting and not having to worry about the entire issue all the damn time. But, it’s good.”

“And you and Sophie?”

“Going strong.”

“Glad to hear it, man.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m guessing you’re excited about surprising Courtney today.”

“I can’t fucking wait.”

“Did Sophie send the picture to you last night?”

I shake my head and he says, “Check Sophie’s Facebook.”

I grab my phone, open the app, and scroll until I find the photo.

“Whoa,” I say, taking in the photo of my fiancée, Sophie, and Kate. Courtney looks
gorgeous
.

She and I video chat pretty often, and though I’ve been able to tell that she’s lost weight—even in just the couple weeks since I saw her in Kansas City—I haven’t seen it like this. The angle of the camera shows more of her body than I usually see when she’s sitting at her desk or in her bed when we chat, and with that red dress on she looks like a brunette Jessica Rabbit.

“Yeah,” he says. “Everyone was freaking out about how great Courtney looked.”

“I can see why.”

“I think a couple of your former teammates hit on her before they realized who she was.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, feeling both jealous and amused.

“Yeah,” Luke says, “And no, I’m not going to tell you who it was.”

As we merge onto the interstate, I text Courtney.

Tailgating?

Not quite yet
she texts back immediately.
Waiting for Willa to get off Skype with Dan
.

I smile at the text. According to Courtney, the only times Willa isn’t talking to Dan on Skype are when she’s in class or asleep. Which seems like overkill to me, but those two have had a rough go of things and I’m not going to begrudge them a clingy relationship via Skype.

“The girls are starting their pre-gaming at Kate’s sorority tailgate, right?” Luke asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I don’t even actually know where they normally tailgate.”

“Oh,” Luke says. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t. Last year they’d come to the
Maneater
tailgate, actually. Now they usually go to Kate’s sorority’s for a bit before bouncing elsewhere. I need to be at the Delta Tau house for a while to hang out with the brothers and alums before I go over to the
Maneater
tailgate myself.”

“Okay,” I say, digesting all of this. Since most of my friends from campus are all playing today, my best bet is to hang out with Luke until we know where the girls are. I feel like asking Courtney where she’s tailgating would be suspect since I’ve never asked before. “Is it cool if I hang with you at the house?”

“Of course,” Luke says. “But you do realize who you are, right?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Just checking,” Luke says, taking the exit to campus. “I’m pretty sure this campus will explode when they realize you’re here today.”

I groan.

“Haven’t embraced the celebrity yet?”

“I’m much more of a celebrity here than anywhere else,” I say.

“I’m willing to bet that’s going to change in a couple months,” Luke says.

“I just don’t know if I’m cut out for the attention,” I say. “The occasional article or interview, whatever. But being recognized everywhere you go and not being able to just go buy groceries because you’ll be mobbed? That sounds awful.”

“Is it like that for your brothers?” Luke asks, turning into campus.

“No,” I say. “They get recognized, sure. But I think that they’re still able to lead at least sort of private lives.”

“I’m sure that once the newness wears off, you’ll be the same way,” Luke says. “But the media does love a shiny new boy toy.”

“Dude. You just said
boy toy
.”

Luke grimaces. “I edited a gossip article last night because I couldn’t go to sleep and the phrase is now lodged in my brain. Sorry, man.”

I laugh. “Just don’t do it again.”

We pull into the parking lot of the fraternity house and Luke says, “I only need to be here for an hour or so. But feel free to head out whenever.”

“I’ll hang here. Give Courtney and the girls time to start tailgating before I show up.”

“Sounds good to me,” Luke says, as he punches in the door code and opens the back door. As we step in to the kitchen, a couple guys say hello to Luke, and then there’s silence.

“Hey,” one guy says. “You’re Adam Kistler.”

I smile and say, “Yep. Hey, man,” as I extend my hand to him.

“Guys, this is Adam. He’s here to surprise his fiancée, so please, don’t post anything on social media until the game starts, okay?”

I see a few heads nod, but a couple phones come out anyway.

“I swear to God, guys, if one of you leaks that he’s here and ruins the surprise, that brother will be on toilet cleaning duty for the rest of the semester.”

The phones disappear.

“That’s what I thought,” Luke says. “Now, one of you get beers for me and Adam, and then start acting like normal people instead of starstruck idiots.”

It takes a lot for me to hold back a smile until the guys all return to a semi-normal state of existence.

“Thanks, man,” I say to Luke.

“Of course,” he says. “I hardly ever wield my presidential authority like that. It was kind of awesome.”

Two beers are handed to us and Luke introduces me to the beer wrangler. As we move through the house, me flanking him as he talks to his brothers and greets the alums who are already at the house to knock back a few brews before the game, I can’t help but notice how differently people are treating me now.

Last year, people recognized me around campus, and every now and then I was asked for an autograph or to pose for a photo, but it was never like this. Now I’m very aware that people are watching my every move out of the corners of their eyes. It’s weird.

I have a feeling that walking through campus later is going to be a shit show.

Courtney

“You seriously want me to meet you at a sorority’s tailgate?” my brother asks through the phone.

“Yes.”

“What do they even have at a sorority tailgate? Wine coolers and celery sticks?”

I snort and say, “There are celery sticks here. But they’re sitting beside the tray of hot wings they ordered from Hooters.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I say. “This sorority is very nonjudgmental. And supportive of a woman’s right to choose to work at Hooters.”

He laughs and says, “Okay, fine. I’ll meet you at the sorority tailgate. Why are you there anyway? You’re not in a sorority.”

“No, but my friend Kate is,” I say pointedly.

“Kate the hot friend?”

“Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes out of habit, but glad that he’s referring to her as hot. It means that my setting them up isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had. “But after you meet us we’ll probably go to a different tailgate.”

“Some guys from high school are tailgating,” Ryan says. “I should probably swing by and have a beer with them.”

“Okay,” I say. “Do you want to do that before or after meeting us?”

“Before,” he says. “I’ll need to be at least one beer in before going to a sorority tailgate. Even if they are cool enough to order wings.”

“It’s possible the wings will be gone before you show up,” I say. “Little known fact about sorority girls: they eat.”

“I’m sure I’ll score some wings somewhere.”

“If not, I’ll take you to Hooters.”

“Sounds good. See you soon, little sis.”

I hang up the phone and head toward my friends, who are chatting with Kate and her sorority house roommate, Priya.

“So Ryan is going to meet us here?” Sophie asks when I join them.

“Yeah. When is Luke done at the house?”

“In about an hour,” she says. “Then I’ll probably go to the
Maneater
tailgate with him. Do you think Ryan will be here by then?”

“Should be. He’s going to say hi to some friends from high school first.”

“Oh,” Sophie says, furrowing her brow before looking at Willa and Kate. “Maybe it’d be better for him to meet us at the
Maneater
. I mean, I’m sure he doesn’t want to come to a sorority tailgate, right?”

“Thanks,” Kate says sharply.

“You know what I mean,” Sophie says in a voice loaded with subtext.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Willa says too quickly.

“Uh huh,” I say. “Y’all are being weird. Why?”

“Can’t we know something you don’t?” Kate asks.

I look questioningly at Priya and she shrugs and says, “I honestly have no idea if they are keeping a secret or not.”

I’m pretty sure she’s telling the truth.

“The last time y’all kept a secret from me, Adam proposed,” I say. “Are the three of you throwing me a surprise wedding? Because there is no way in hell I’ll be okay with that.”

They all crack up and then Kate says, “I need a drink to keep this hangover at bay. And some food.”

We follow her to get in line for food, and it isn’t until after I have looked longingly at Sophie’s plate of wings at least six times that I realize I never did find out what the secret is they’re hiding from me.

Ryan calls me less than an hour later and says, “I shotgunned two beers and chugged a third. I think I’m ready for the sorority girls.”

“Just one girl,” I say into the phone before giving him directions to where we are.

“He’s on the way?” Sophie asks.

“Yeah, finally,” I say, before looking to Kate. “You sure you’re okay with me sort of setting you guys up?”

She shrugs. “It’s not like I’m a mail-order bride or anything. It’s just a setup. At a tailgate. It’s basically the most casual setup in the history of the world.”

“Okay,” I say. “But this is my brother we’re talking about.”

“Courtney, I know,” Kate says. “I won’t treat him like crap. Promise.”

I smile and say, “Thank you. And if you guys actually hit it off, you’re welcome.”

Sophie has been texting during this exchange and says, “Okay, Luke is on the move. So, when Ryan gets here, introduce the future couple and then let’s get to the
Maneater
tailgate.”

“What in the hell is happening over there that is so important?” I ask, but no one answers. “Sophie, the freaking hiring manager of the
New York Times
better be there or something.”

An amused look crosses her face and she asks, “What?”

“What other reason could you have for wanting to get over there so badly?”

“She has a point,” Willa says, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Maybe I’m just itching to network!” Sophie says, making us all laugh.

“Whatever,” I say. “But this better be good.”

“Hello, ladies,” Ryan says from behind me.

The girls chorus their hellos and I turn around to give my brother a hug.

“You remember my friends from when you met in New York, right?”

“Willa, Sophie, and Kate?” he says, nodding at each of my friends, letting his gaze linger on Kate.

“Right,” Kate says. “It looks like you’re in need of some school spirit.”

She reaches over to a nearby table and grabs one of the enormous stickers that has her sorority’s letters on them and proclaims that they heart the Tigers, and sticks it on my brother’s shirt.

I assume this is an excuse for her to feel how muscled his chest is.

“Now that we’re all here,” Sophie says, “we have another tailgate to get to!”

Sophie begins walking in that direction, not checking to see if we’re following behind her or not. I let my brother walk with Kate, feeling a little like a Victorian-era chaperone attempting not to eavesdrop on a date, and am glad when Willa starts asking me about my next trip to New Orleans.

As we near the
Maneater
tailgate tent, I see that there is a larger than normal group of people there. There must be a celebrity there or something. But at the
Maneater
tailgate? Are journalists even celebrities?

As we squeeze our way into the tent through the throngs of people standing around, Sophie does her best to politely ask people to move, and when that doesn’t work, Willa barrels through them with her elbows bent and held slightly out.

I see Professor Thompson at the same time that he spots us and he says, “Oh good! You’re here!”

And that’s when he moves to the side and I see
Adam
standing in the tent.

“Wait,” I say. “Adam is who all these people are standing around and gawking at?”

“Hello to you, too,” he says, smiling hugely, before he moves to me and picks me up in a bear hug.

That’s when reality settles in. Adam is
here
.

“Surprised?” he asks when I’m back on the ground.

“Yes,” I say, realizing that I am, indeed, surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You and your surprises,” I say, shaking my head. He leans down to kiss me and I hear the sound of cameras clicking all around us.

I do my best to block out the sound of the shutters and the thoughts of the people watching and focus on the fact that Adam is here.

When we break apart, a few people ask Adam for autographs, some for photos, and some others just want to shake his hand and chat him up. Eventually, the crowd begins to disperse to make their way into the stadium.

“So this is tailgating?” Adam asks.

“Nope,” I say as our friends laugh. “That was a freaking meet and greet. Tailgating is when people stand around eating and drinking before going to a football game.”

“Speaking of,” Luke says. “The game starts in about an hour. When do you guys want to head in?”

I shrug and look around. Kate and Ryan are standing a little away from the group, laughing together.

“Do you guys mind going in soon?” Adam asks. “Not to be a noob, but I haven’t seen the pregame stuff here in the last couple years.”

“Of course,” Sophie says, and we all gulp down the rest of our drinks before refilling and having one more before the game.

Then we turn and head toward the stadium, Adam and I walking hand-in-hand to a football game for the first time.

When we pull up to Adam’s parents’ place the next day, there are cars everywhere.

“Are they having a party?” I ask.

Adam shrugs. “Maybe they decided to have a dinner party. I don’t know.”

I sigh, annoyed that they decided to have a dinner party instead of just having dinner with the two of us…and didn’t even let us know.

“I’m sure Mom just wanted to invite some friends over. You know how she gets.”

“Every casual get-together is a party,” I say.

He smiles and says, “I’m sure it’ll be fun. She probably just wanted me to see friends while I’m home.”

I begin to grumble about this, but hold my tongue. It’s the first time Adam has been home since he moved to New Orleans, so it makes sense that his mom would want to do something special.

“Come on,” he says, squeezing my hand.

“But I look like this,” I say, motioning to my jeans and plain gray tee. If I had known I was going to a dinner party, I probably would have tried to make my hair look a little better than the lazy half up–half down thing I have going on.

“You look perfect,” he says.

I can’t help but smile when I hear that, even if I don’t completely believe it.

“Okay, let’s go see what sort of crazy dinner party your mom has put together this time.”

We get out of the Jeep and head to the front door, which is unlocked. Because a dinner party in the Missouri suburbs equals an unlocked door so that guests don’t have to constantly ring the doorbell.