14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Tripp

The wine's been poured and our orders placed: chicken piccata for me and pasta Bolognese for Willow. I usually don't drink when I have practice the next day but I figure tonight is the perfect exception.

Asking her to bring a jacket was the move. Wind blows through the rooftop, making Willow's hair a bit wild, dark strands flying around. Her cheeks are tinged pink from the cold, bringing out the pink of her lipstick.

"I'm impressed. I have to say this is a first for me... a first date on a rooftop," she says.

I'd be lying if I hadn't agonized about what we should do tonight. I landed on a classic. Hearing her say "impressed" and "first date" in the same sentence feels like a win.

"I thought this was a safe bet. Far enough outside of the city and not anywhere too busy. Plus, I'm sure you're always going to all the newest restaurants and things… thought you might like something different." She doesn't respond right away, which immediately makes me want to fill the silence.

"Still public enough in case you want to run..." I take a long drink of wine. There's nothing about her that makes me think she might actually want to escape but sometimes we all need some validation.

"I don't want to run. Not yet at least," she says playfully. "You've put some thought into this. "

"Definitely have. I knew what I was getting myself into, sort of, when I opened my mouth after practice." The look on her face, cheeks pinched with a smile, her eye contact, it makes it impossible to look away.

"You also seem to know quite a bit about me. Like my favorite flower."

I knew this was going to come up. Just didn't know when.

"I remember an interview you did a while back." I try to sound cool and collected. "And to just get this out of the way, I've been a fan for as long as I can remember. I played your first CD in the first car I bought. I can probably sing most of your songs, word for word, and I'm not at all embarrassed." I clap my hands and rub them together.

This might be the fucking worst thing to say. It's not like I date a lot, especially not someone like Willow. Is it gross to admit to being a fan? No clue. I already said it and can't take it back.

I can't tell if it's the candles reflecting in her eyes or if she's processing what I said. She tips her chin a little closer to her chest and runs her tongue over her lip.

"You like my music?" she quietly responds, smiling—not what I was expecting. My stomach flips because I have no chill. Plus, I'm still thinking of her tongue on her lip.

"You're sweet for pretending I wasn't blaring a live version, one that I had to scrounge the internet for, when you got in my car."

Willow's cheeks blush, and she looks down at her hands in her lap. She slowly blinks and shakes her head, still grinning.

"What, like you didn't google me?" I joke and give her space to bypass my confession of being a legitimate fan.

Her chestnut eyes snap up. Busted. And she knows it.

"Guilty." She jokingly puts a hand up, like she's claiming responsibility. "In all fairness, there wasn't much to find. Your record seems to be squeaky clean... minus a rowdy post-championship Champagne incident a few months back." She takes a slow sip of her wine, not losing eye contact. "Not a mention of a single girlfriend. You really threw the paparazzi for a loop with your after-practice shenanigans."

"To be fair, there really hasn't ever been a girlfriend, besides someone back in college." I lean back in my chair. Willow skeptically tilts her chin up, wanting more. "Bailey. She's great." I smile as I share details. "We were close friends and would throw in the benefits when it was needed. She always had my back, and in all transparency, we're still friends. I know it sounds like a line, but it's the truth—there wasn't anyone besides her."

"Or you're just very good at keeping secrets." Her voice drifts.

"That isn't it. Too many people would use the word impulsive to describe me. I don't have the capacity to keep things like that under wraps, and I'd never want to make anyone feel like they were being hidden."

The second the dumb words are out of my idiotic mouth I know there are things she works hard to keep quiet. For example, the home where I picked her up. This was a key mention from her security team. Also, I don't want to feel like I'm giving her shit for her ex.

"But I can keep a secret when it counts. I had one of my assistants take my car for the night. They pulled out of the parking garage first, and when I knew all the paps followed them, I got into my new car. The one no one has seen me in. The one I bought yesterday." The words fall out too fast in a panic.

Willow pauses and nods her head up and down in understanding.

"Are you serious? There's no way you bought a new car for this," she asks with a small giggle, light bouncing from her eyes.

"One hundred percent. I knew it was important to you. So, it was important to me. It was time for an upgrade anyways." The last part is complete bullshit, but she doesn't know that .

The dealership was thrilled to get me in a car, especially because I had to take what they had. It was a done deal before Zack and I walked in the door. I usually prefer white cars but the only Tesla they had, ready to go, was black. Nothing like a little spontaneity paired with a substantial signing bonus from the Cosmos.

"Wow. Thank you." She fidgets her hands in her lap. "Let's get back to the zero-dating history. I feel like there's more to this..." She leaves the door open. Not sure if this is approved for first date territory but we're jumping right in.

She's right. And if I want this to go anywhere, I need to give her something.

"It's always been football. When it wasn't football, it was me and my mom. Making it to the NFL wasn't supposed to happen for someone like me. But I did it and I want to show up and be my best every day."

"What do you mean someone like you?" she asks.

There it is.

"I wasn't a high school phenom. I barely had any scholarship offers. Graduating from college was always part of my plan because I was prepared to have to give up football. There was nothing about me that screamed success. And then, good things happened and continued to happen. I knew I had to pour myself into this if I wanted to do it."

"Your parents must be proud." She smiles and it makes me smile right back.

"My mom is proud. My dad isn't in the picture."

"Oh, Tripp. I'm sorry." She reaches her hand over and grabs mine that's resting on the table near my wine glass. Her touch is warm.

"Don't be. He left one day and never came back. That's on him. He tried to get a hold of me for Super Bowl tickets, and that's the extent of our relationship."

"His loss," she says with a snap .

"That's what my mom always told me."

We're both leaning forward on the table. Willow holds my hand and rubs my palm with her thumb. It's like we're magnets, and I want to pull her into my chest across the table. Hold her to me.

Before I have another second to think about it, the door opens to the stairwell and our server heads to the table with a tray full of food.