6. Holy Shit, That’s Huge

6

HOLY SHIT, THAT’S HUGE

USE SOMEBODY, KINGS OF LEON

Alex

We walk in silence to the end of Sixth and Magnolia. I open the glass door to Ronnie’s, our local diner, and let Livie go in first. When I told Nick I was going to the Market to see Nat and Bella, I didn’t think I was going to run into Livie. What are the odds that I would see my hook up from last night in my hometown? Last night was both a blur and a dream. I sound like a poet even thinking about it, but the connection I shared with her was nothing I’ve experienced before. Hooking up with women is not new to me, but there was something different about her that screamed more —but then one thing led to another, and I followed what I wanted. I shouldn’t have, but I did.

“Welcome to Ronnie’s! Anything to drink?” the waitress asks. I eat at Ronnie’s a lot, but I usually choose to pick up rather than dining in, so I haven’t learned all the employee’s names. But there’s something oddly familiar about this waitress.

“Hey, Nells,” Livie greets. “Can I get the usual starter please?”

“Livie! I haven’t seen you since forever. Sorry, I didn’t notice it was you and yes, yes you can. What about you, Alex?” the waitress asks and now I feel like a douche for not remembering her name.

“Water for me, thanks.”

“You got it.” She walks to the back of the restaurant, disappearing through wooden doors.

“So, Alex,” Livie starts, both elbows on top of the table, linking her fingers together under her chin. “Do you live in Baker? First Hailey, and now Nellie know you by name. And that’s odd, considering I’ve never seen you before.”

Nellie. Of course she looked familiar—her sister Cara is one of my closest friends. I forgot her little sister is not so little anymore.

I clear my throat. “Born and raised, but I could say the same thing about you.”

“Not born and raised, but I moved here a few years ago. I grew up in Magnolia Springs, just an hour south of here, but Hailey loves Baker Oaks. So after college, we moved here. I love it and never want to leave.”

I wish I could say the sentiment was mutual, and truth is I used to love living in Baker, but tainted memories have made it very difficult to have a life here. A slow-paced life. A comfortable life. My house is what some people dream about, and I like it, but it’s missing something. Mom thinks it’s missing holiday cheer and grandchildren, and maybe she’s right. I’m afraid I might never give her what she wants, since I’m almost thirty and have not had a steady relationship with pretty much anyone .

“Back to you being famous, though. Am I going to have to Google you? Holy shit, if I Google you, am I going to find a bunch of dirt on you?” Livie asks and I flinch. A bunch of dirt on me is exactly what she will find on the Internet and I don’t want her to see any of that. I want her to see who I am now. Who I’ve always been, when I’m not trying to recover from a life-changing injury.

“You can, but I can just tell you. I used to play football, and you know people in the South and their football. They make it a bigger deal than it is, I promise.” I grab my water from Nellie’s hand as she stands right next to us, welcoming the distraction. She places a plate in front of Livie with fried green tomatoes and ranch.

“How big are we talking, though? High school, college ball? Ah, thank you, Nells. You’re an angel.”

“More like he was the QB for the Rhinos,” Nellie adds and Livie’s eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, that’s huge! Well, congrats on retirement,” she spits out before turning back to Nellie and ordering her entree. I order mine quickly and then stay quiet, hoping she doesn’t make a big deal of this and waiting for the conversation to continue. When it doesn’t, I look up and find Livie watching me with tenderness in her eyes.

“Did I say something wrong?” Livie asks, her dark wavy hair cascading over one shoulder as she studies me.

“No, why?” I reply, trying to shake off the heaviness that has settled in.

“You got really quiet , and I can’t pinpoint when or why. Was it because I didn’t know who you are? I’m sorry, Alex, I don’t watch much TV. And my family follows baseball, not football, so I don’t hear much about it.”

“It really is nothing to worry about,” I answer, the lie sliding off my lips like a knife over butter—smooth but sharp. It’s not a complete lie, just a partial one. I don’t talk much about football, but everyone around me does. When are you going to talk about your injury? Are you going back to football, even if you don’t play? What happened at that party? Did you really kill a man over a photograph? Is it true that the American Football Association paid you to quit the team?

Rumors, lies, bullshit—that’s what I don’t want, so I mostly stay out of conversations about it. Football is dead to me; but as much as I want everyone to forget I ever played, it doesn’t look like it’s happening any time soon. I can’t even get volunteer opportunities because people are afraid that I’m volatile or a liability. I don’t blame them, but I need to figure out who I am now without it.

“Then we don’t have to talk about football at all,” she says, shrugging her shoulder as she takes a bite of the fried green tomato on her plate. It’s a simple gesture, but I can tell she means it.

“Thanks,” I reply, trying to muster a smile. “I appreciate that. It’s just…a lot.”

Livie nods, her gaze softening. “We all have our baggage. What do you want to talk about instead?” She leans in with her soft smile and her pretty brown eyes.

I pause, contemplating my response while I sip my drink. “I guess I’m still figuring that out. But I’d like to know more about you. What’s your story?”

Her eyes light up in amusement as she raises an eyebrow and answers, “Well, I guess a change of topic is what you wanted. Okay, I’ll bite. You already know I live here and that I grew up in Florida. You know my best friend is Hailey and you know my taste in men is outstandingly different from my mother’s, considering she hasn’t been able to set me up with a proper date in forever…but it still led me to a man watching me sleep. Then you end up being the best company I’ve had in a while. Is that sad?”

I lean in snickering and add, “Sad for her, for sure, but for us it sounds like it was meant to be. I happen to enjoy your company too, and I don’t enjoy many people. What do you do for a living?”

“I work at the children’s hospital, offering support to children in hospice or in long term hospital care. Nothing teaches you to appreciate life, and what you have, more than seeing how fragile it can be.” Livie smiles softly, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Sounds like you’re a good person,” I say, feeling both sad and happy, I guess. I can tell by the tone of her voice she loves it and she makes a difference, but it’s probably so damn hard doing that as a job.

“Oh no, no, don’t do that! Don’t look at me with those puppy eyes, like I’m broken or a masochist. It’s hard, yes, but I truly enjoy being there in the hardest part of their lives. I don’t want a dark cloud looming over us, though. What do you do now that you don’t play the sport everyone loves?”

“I’m still trying to figure it out.” My voice trails off as I look down at my plate, and I push around the food with my fork. The truth is, this topic causes more turmoil inside of me than I’d like to admit.

“Aren’t we all?” she replies, her tone light but her eyes searching mine for something more.

Just then Nellie arrives, balancing our entrees on a tray with ease. She sets down our plates, the aroma wafting up like a warm embrace. “Enjoy, you guys! Holler if you need anything.” She beams at us, her energy infectious, but I can’t help but feel a shadow hovering over my thoughts.

As I take a bite, I steal a glance at Livie. She seems at ease, her features softening as she eats her food. “What are you trying to figure out, Livie? You seem pretty content.” The words come out easily. She’s easy to talk to, funny, and beautiful as hell too.

“I am. Content, that is. I’m actually happy. I love my life. I enjoy my job and I have a solid friendship with Hailey. My mother doesn’t seem to think being content or even happy is enough if I’m still single, and I’m a little tired of it.” Her voice has a slight edge, revealing the frustration beneath her bubbly personality. It’s funny to see her share so much with me, a near-perfect stranger. She’s so open, but her mom—who is supposed to know her—doesn’t see she’s not helping.

“What are you going to do about it?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant, but I can feel the urgency creeping into my voice. I know damn well I need to do something about my own problems, and the thought hangs heavy in the air between us.

She shrugs, her smile faltering for just a moment. “Short of showing up with a boyfriend to Christmas Eve dinner, I don’t think there’s much I can do.” She takes a bite of her food and tilts her head to the side, looking at what she just ate. She frowns as if it tastes bad.

“What?” I ask, wondering if there’s something wrong with her meal.

She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. “Have you ever taken a bite of something while looking at something else, and your brain can’t comprehend what just happened? Well, I was looking at your food while I took a bite of this, and I thought I was short-circuiting.” We both laugh now.

Her words keep playing in my head over and over again, even though she has changed the topic to something else. Short of showing up with a boyfriend to Christmas Eve dinner, I don’t think there’s much I can do.

“Can I ask why your mother is so focused on you dating someone?”

“Old-fashioned tradition of her homeland and me being almost thirty. It’s bullshit, to be honest. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not running away from a potential relationship. I would love nothing more than to date someone and maybe see if marriage and settling down is in the future. But it has to be someone worthy of my time and my heart. I have worked too hard to be where I am now, physically, mentally, and emotionally, to fuck it up with people like Frank from finance.”

I snort at that, which earns me another pretty smile from her. Livie’s smile is wide and bright with deep dimples in her cheeks. She has perfect teeth and they compliment her expression perfectly. She’s anatomically beautiful all the way to even the shade on the enamel of her teeth. She’s so pretty it hurts. It hurts to be sitting across from her and not drag her over the table and kiss her senseless again.

“I’m turning thirty next year and I feel like if I show up by myself to this stupid dinner, I will never hear the end of it. But I don’t want to string people along or give the wrong impression, so I might skip this year’s dinner.”

“Have you ever skipped one before?”

“Nope, not in my almost thirty years of life.”

Her words resonate with me more than I expected. I’ve been wrestling with so much uncertainty in my own life. But what sticks with me is that she’s willing to skip something that’s meaningful to her to avoid confrontation or being uncomfortable. My image—how I present myself to the world, how others perceive me—is not who I am. And after letting the media run wild with allegations, I have buried myself into disgrace. She doesn’t want to disappoint her mom. I want to stop disappointing mine.

“What if I come with you?” I ask, letting the words slip out before I can stop them.

Livie coughs, covering her mouth to keep from spitting out whatever it is she’s eating. “To where? To my mother’s house?”

“Yeah. What if you bring me and we can pretend we’re together for her sake?”

“Alex, I don’t even know your full name.”

“Alexander James Haddock.”

“Not what I meant.”

“That’s what you said.”

“Are you always this literal? You can’t mean it. My mom is part psychic; she would know immediately something was up and...what? I’m just going to show up with you and hope for the best when I don’t even know your favorite color?”

I open my mouth to answer but she lifts her finger in warning as she raises her eyebrow.

“Also, not what I meant. I barely know you,” she adds.

I shrug, trying not to smirk. “We can change that.”

“So…what? I rocked your world last night and now all of a sudden you want to go out with me so I can show my mother I’m dateable?” Livie scoffs. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“Well, not entirely that,” I reply, grabbing my cup and taking a sip. Getting Livie to help me could be a game changer. She’s got that effortless charm, a knack for turning heads. If I could tap into that, maybe I could reshape how people see me. If I could be seen with this ball of Christmas spirit, maybe people would finally let me be who I truly am and not who they want me to be .

“What if I have a way for you to help me, too?” I thought she would be game, but her expressionless face is making me second-guess myself. As I look at her, I wonder if she’d want to be part of any of it. Would she see my mess as a burden? Does she think I’m only talking to her so she can help me? The thoughts make my heart race, but there’s a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, if I open up, we could tackle our issues together. “I could use a little help on showing people I’m not who they think I am.”

Her expression shifts to curiosity as she folds both hands under her chin in her I’m listening pose, which I’ve noticed in the two short days I’ve known her. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, stirring my drink with a straw and mirroring Livie’s sudden movements. “I’ve been trying to figure out who I am now that football is…well, done. But no matter how hard I try, people don’t seem to let it go. The rumors are exhausting, and I feel like I need a fresh start. But no one seems to see me beyond the party boy. All they see is Alex the troublemaker.”

Livie nods, her expression thoughtful. “I get that. People can be quick to judge based on what they hear or what they think they know.”

“You have no idea,” I reply.

“Then enlighten me, Alex. I don’t work today and now that Hailey left, my agenda just cleared up.”

“I played for the NFL, right? All good, except I was a little reactive. I partied too much. I got into a couple fights. I was caught screaming at the paparazzi more times than I can count. I got injured, which is why I don’t play anymore; the recovery was brutal for both my physical and mental health. I said things I shouldn’t have and I caused a scene in a couple public places. Bar fights, screaming at paparazzi, leaving places drunk—I was a mess and I’m not proud of it.”

“Okay but you clearly are not an asshole. So what changed?” she asks.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“I can’t promise but I’ll try,” she answers, softening her features.

“I went to therapy and learned how to cope with a lot of shit. I do yoga once a week and I go on daily walks at the farm.”

She smiles at me, and this time her whole body seems like it’s melting as she grabs my hand and says, “So you are a public grump who is really a closeted hippie?” I nod and she continues, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, about any of that. I’m glad you found what helps. It takes courage to try new things. I can’t imagine how much people judged you when you showed up to yoga with all those giant muscles.”

I let out a soft laugh and reply, “Not too harsh, but I still haven’t had any luck showing people I’m not that angry kid anymore. And I think you could help me. If you’re willing, of course.”

Livie tilts her head, intrigued. “How?”

I hesitate, then say, “What if we pretended to date? It could work in both our favor. I’d help you get your mom off your back about settling down, and I’d get a chance to redefine how people see me.”

She raises an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in her eyes. “Fake dating? Also, what do I have that would help people see you differently?”

“The media is used to seeing me with different girls—not my finest moment—and nobody like you. ”

“What? Chunky and short like a cupcake?” she whisper-shouts.

I’m wide-eyed as I shake my head at whatever bullshit she thinks I meant. “You’re not chunky, Livie. You’re beautiful.”

“Oh my God, please don’t be this person. I said chunky, not ugly, and I am. I don’t have a problem with it—do you?”

How the fuck did this conversation turn into this? “Wait, wait. I don’t think you understood me, and I’m so sorry if I said something wrong. I just… fuck. Sorry. What I meant by girls like you is sweet, kind, bubbly girls. You were actually dressed like an elf on a random Friday. You work with sick children. And your smile… Well, your smile can light up a whole room, Liv. It had nothing to do with your body. I fucking love your body.”

She lets out a breath and says, “Okay. That makes sense, I guess… sorry I snapped. I’ve also worked hard at loving every inch of me, but I’m used to people who just see me as the fat sweet girl, but not the whole me, you know?”

“It’s okay. Sorry it took a turn.”

We stay silent, waiting for some words to magically appear.

“Did calling myself chunky make you uncomfortable?” Livie offers. “I’m ripping the band aid off now.”

What do I say? Yes, it did, and risk her thinking I’m superficial? Or do I lie? “Honestly, Livie, I’m not sure. I think so ,but I think it’s because I feel like girls hate that word and I’ve only heard it in negative ways. I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, please. It’s okay to not know. But just so we’re clear, I love my body the way it is and I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m chunky, curvy, fat, plus size—it’s fine. It’s part of who I am, not all that I am.”

“I like your body, in case it wasn’t obvious last night,” I reply, smiling softly at her and reaching for her hand across the table. “But I also like you, all of you. I know it sounds crazy because we just met, but I had such a good time last night. It doesn’t happen often.”

“Thanks, boo. Now tell me more about your plan. Do you really think it could work?”

“Why not?” I chuckle. “We could pull it off. Just think of it as a fun little project.”

Livie takes a moment to consider, then smirks. “Okay, but only if you promise to be charming and not a total disaster. Also, no more freaking out over words—we’re both adults and we can talk.”

“I can do charming,” I reply, the corners of my mouth lifting. “I can do honest, too, and I can also talk. Just don’t expect me to wear matching outfits or anything.”

“Deal,” she laughs, shaking her head. “But I can’t promise my mom won’t start planning the wedding as soon as she sees us so you better get ready.”

“Guess I better brace myself,” I say, feeling a genuine connection between us. Now all that is left is figuring out what to do next.