Complications

19|crush

Tyla Bradley

The entire event went on without a hitch. Zoey came back with Cafe Rio and we ate while watching all the other booths get set up. She pressed only slightly for details concerning the tattoo. My blush gave me away. I'm still feeling as though I've transported myself into an alternate reality. One where love in one look hits you like a train. I feel like I've gotten hit by a train. I need time to get my head in straight , but Waker comes back within an hour with a hose and the key to get water into it. He seemed off, I didn't say anything. His eyes kept straying to my cheek and he'd shake his head, as if he was embarrassed. It makes me smile, thinking of it now.

He acted weird the rest of the night, paying more attention to my booth than the tank. He'd grab almost every soul and urge them to buy tattoos and stickers.

"Official merch of the team right here!" He'd say pointing to his cheek. He was astonishing me, I'm still in shock I think.

I got to meet Alex later that day. He looked like he'd gotten in a fight recently, matched somewhat with Walkers battle scars from a couple days ago. That still has me thinking.

He thanked me for the tattoo on Walkers face and that was the extent of our conversation.

About an hour in, still a couple hours before the game starts Walker got pressured into being the one to get dunked. He was still wearing the same outfit from earlier. Wrinkled green shirt, black pants and two different shoes. He had been plying off the pressure for hours but finally he gave in. First his shoes came off and than he stopped his shirt; tugging it over his head and tossing it in my direction of all places. I catch it with one hand, raise an eyebrow while I try—and fail if I might add—to keep my eyes off his chest. He is sculpted. His abs are firm and defined. I'm ogling as many others are too I'm sure. He knows he's hot as he flex's for everyone, and than to make it worse he drops his pants too so he's in nothing but his boxers. A crowd has gathered. He looks like a Calvin & Klein model and theirs lots of cat calling and whistling happening.

"Are you serious?" I exclaim as he passes me.

He smirks and shrugs, "you're loving this admit it."

I don't say anything, I can't. It be lying either way. I settle for, "honestly I'd prefer you put your clothes back on."

He gapes, "do you know how awful wet jeans are?"

"Do you plan to sit in your underwear after tell it dries."

He nods and shrugs, "I'm confident."

Whatever that means.

You know who gets him dunked? Silver, he puts him right in the water first try. There was some heat behind that throw. I hadn't seen Silver in a bit, it was actually nice, mmmmm ended too soon.

Walker came out of the water, sputtering and flipping his wet hair like a Greek god. He always seems at ease, perfectly happy in every condition. Even as he comes out of the tank, gives Silver a slap on the back—which seriously pissed him off (Silver I mean)—he was oblivious of the googly eyed girls and the very irritated Silver. I was laughing in the corner or the booth, something he asked me about later. Guess he was watching me and not them?

When things started to die down Mrs. Corn stopped by. The tank had been the most popular thing but Walker kept telling Corn that these tattoos and stickers of mine should be sold at every football. She obviously didn't know how to respond to that. I laughed at that too.

"Do you laugh at everything?" Walker asked.

I just shrugged, "basically. You're kind of hilarious."

"I can be serious though. Just so you know."