The football players are so full of themselves, and they are going to be very stinky on the way home after the games. I am cringing just thinking about it. Well, wish me luck, I have to get to bed, goodnight!
Love,
Maybelle Mason
Trey snorted while I grimaced as I finished reading the last line of the passage. Little Maybelle was trying a little too hard for theI’m not like other girlsfaçade with that one.
“I’m trying not to take offense to how fourteen-year-old Maybelle felt about my kind, but it was pretty ruthless.”
Refusing to let on that, I agreed with him full-heartedly, I rested back, my shoulder brushing his. “Fourteen-year-old me was a smart girl. Football boys are loud, trouble andverystinky.”
He glared. “Take that back.”
“Can’t,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, not missing the mischievous glint in his eyes.
He set the book off to the side, and I tensed with anticipation.
“Tell me, May.” He turned toward me, his broad chest taking up my view. His sweet, minty breath clouded my common sense. “Do the sweet, nerdy boys still do it for you?”
His tease was stupid and childish, but I still swallowed hard, losing all sense of self-preservation as I held his stare.
“Absolutely,” I croaked, the lie coming out as unsteady as I felt.
He shrugged, his grin skeptical as he pulled away, leaving me feeling cold with his absence. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” He opened the book back up and was reading through another page when I finally gained my composure.
“Trey,” I began, but he didn’t look at me. “Are we good?”
His head cocked sideways. “Why? Whatever do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb, Turner. I mean since last week. We haven’t talked, and I wanted to make sure we’re good.”
He reverently closed the journal and put it back in its place on the desk before turning to me. “If we’re going to talk about this, then I need to say a few things with no interruptions. Can you do that for me?”
I rolled my eyes but proceeded to nod and wait for him to continue. Satisfied, Trey straightened, locking eyes with me. “First off, my middle name is Tory.”
A strangled quiet fell between us, held together only by my tightly pressed lips, but I couldn’t contain it long.
I erupted with jeering laughter. “Excuse me?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want.”
And that I did, shamelessly.
“Trey Tory Turner,” I said, testing the sound. “Yikes.”
He playfully shoved at me. “Now you know why that wasn’t the first piece of personal information I divulged to you.”
Yeah, I understood the hesitation.
He got a faraway look in his eye before he continued. “It’s an old name. Mom said it was the name of a great uncle that served in some war. I didn’t care to remember the specifics because I was too busy feeling betrayed when she signed me up for my first high school football season using my full name.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth. “She didn’t.”
He tilted his head to me, brown waves falling over his green eyes. “Oh, she did. My team got real kick out of it.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t let me live down the shame—until Liam…” his voice trailed off as he faced forward. “Your brother gave me the nickname, Triple Threat. Said that even if my name was the cruelest joke he ever heard a parent play on their kid, it didn’t mean it had to be something I had to be ashamed of.”
“That’s sweet,” I sputtered out lamely, a little lost in his eyes. “That’s what you needed to tell me without interruption?”
“No, but out of all the things you had to yell at me about last week, not knowing my middle name seemed to mean a lot to you.”
