“Yes, I cook. Do you cook?”
“No. I’m the worst cook.” I ate cereal and salads. Anything with more directions and I would burn it.
“Then good thing you met me. I’m basically a chef. Should have gone to culinary school.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He chuckled. “There’s not as much money in whipping up a mean pasta as there is in catching a leather ball.”
“I keep forgetting.”
“I like that you forget. You don’t give a shit I play football, do you?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“And you know I don’t care you’re on a dance team, right?”
“I do know that.”
“Good, because it doesn’t matter to me. But I was thinking about something today after you left.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I want to see you dance.”
“You’ve seen me.”
“No, not like that. The way you love dance. I want to see the ballerina Natalia.”
He took my breath away. I had old dance videos and piles of audition DVDs, but that wasn’t what he was talking about.
“You really want to see me dance?”
“Yeah, I bet you’re beautiful out there.”
And I knew he didn’t mean the same way as when I was a Goddess, shaking my ass for everyone to see.
“I’ll dance for you.”
I was already choreographing something in my head to show him.
“I have to go pick up the film for tonight. But I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, Natalia.”
“Good night.”
I hung up and stared at the phone. I had no idea this was going to happen, but I felt as if we had officially waltzed right into a relationship.
21
Sam
The drive to Austin wasn’t bad. It gave me ninety minutes to crank up the music and drive. Texas roads were wide and the speed limit let me go almost as fast as I wanted.
There were a lot of things to think about other than the lyrics blaring from my speakers. Two nights with this woman and I had decided to break my first rule of the season. But it seemed better this way. Since Sunday night, I’d had incredible practices all week. I hadn’t dropped a single ball or missed any tackles. Even Wes commented on my concentration.