The Quarterbacks Kiss

19 | Porch conversations

"Your my end and my beginning."
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Eve

The hum of the car engine blended with the faint tunes of Carson's playlist, filling the silence between us. Seven hours. Seven hours to Carson's family estate, and I wasn't sure if the butterflies in my stomach were from the journey or the thought of meeting his family.

I shifted in my seat, glancing at Carson. His hands gripped the steering wheel casually, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. His gray eyes stayed fixed on the road, but the corners of his mouth tilted up like he could feel my gaze.

"You okay over there, Angel?" he asked, flicking a glance in my direction.

I nodded, playing with the hem of my sweater. "Just... thinking."

"About?"

"Your family." I hesitated. "What if they don't like me?"

He chuckled, reaching over to rest his hand on my knee. "First of all, my dad will adore you. And as for my mom..." He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. "Don't worry about her. She just needs time to warm up to people."

"Time?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "How much time are we talking here?"

He grinned, giving my leg a reassuring squeeze. "Let's just say she still isn't fully warmed up to my sister's husband, and they've been married for three years."

I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat. "Great. Just great."

"Relax, Eve. You've got me, okay? And if she says anything out of line, I'll handle it."

His words were comforting, but the knot in my stomach didn't completely loosen. I distract myself by watching the scenery blur past, autumn trees painted in shades of orange and gold.

The car rumbled to a stop at the gas station, the midday sun casting long shadows across the pumps. Carson stepped out, stretching his arms over his head, his gray eyes scanning the lot. I stayed in the passenger seat, scrolling aimlessly on my phone and trying not to dwell on how awkward meeting his mom might be.

"Need anything?" he asked, leaning down to my window.

I shook my head. "I'm good."

He gave me a quick nod before heading inside, his confident stride drawing the attention of a few passing customers. I watched him for a moment, my lips curving into a small smile despite myself.

The sound of a nearby car door slamming broke my thoughts, and I glanced up. A sleek red convertible had pulled up to the pump beside us, and stepping out was a girl who looked like she belonged in a fashion magazine.

Blonde hair cascaded in perfect waves down her back, and she wore a tight white tank top and designer jeans that hugged her frame. Her large sunglasses perched atop her head as she rummaged through her purse, seemingly oblivious to the world around her.

And then I saw her face.

Lola.

Of course.

She didn't notice me at first, too busy fiddling with the pump. I considered sinking down into my seat and pretending I didn't exist, but before I could act, she glanced my way and froze.