weakly. She grunted and shook her head while calling the next player into the room.
I drove back to my apartment and frantically got ready. I showered and shaved my legs, but decided I didn’t have enough time to wash my hair. I teased it out with my curling iron until it was somewhat presentable by my standards.
Then I wondered what to wear. The feeling of being under-dressed at Darryl’s party was fresh in my mind, and the stakes were higher for a one-on-one situation. Fortunately, my phone buzzed on the bathroom sink.
UNKNOWN: Hey Coach Betts! It’s Rafa. Hope it’s not weird that I got your number from the team directory. I realized I offered to pick you up but I don’t know where you live. So send me your address when you have a minute.
I breathed a sigh of relief, saved his phone number in my contacts list, and replied.
Me: 112 Colleyville Blvd. I’m apartment 12, on the first floor. By the way, where are we going? I don’t want to be surrounded by girls in cocktail dresses again if I’m just wearing a sun dress!
Rafa: We’re not going anywhere fancy. Wear something comfy. A sun dress would be perfect. I promise you won’t be under-dressed.
Me: I don’t believe you. What are YOU wearing?
Rafa: I’m wearing a sun dress too. Does that make you more comfortable?
Me: That image is going to be stuck in my head!!!
I rushed to get ready in record time. I finished applying lipstick at 7:59, and when I looked out the front window of my apartment I saw a dark Mercedes pull into the spot next to my car. I grabbed my purse and met him outside. He was wearing jeans and a tight-fitting polo shirt.
Rafael winced when he saw me. “You’re wearing that?”
I playfully slapped him on the arm. “Don’t even joke.”
A huge smile split his handsome face. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He opened the passenger door of his car, then waited until I was inside before closing it carefully. The seats were dark leather and it still had that new-car smell.
“That was a date-like gesture,” I told him. “Opening the car door. Picking me up at my place, too.”
He shrugged innocently and started the engine.
“This car is nice,” I said. “I thought you said you were still on a minor-league contract until next year.”
“I am, which is keeping me from buying a big expensive house,” he replied. “But buying a semi-nice car is a different ballgame.”
We drove north-east out of Colleyville until we reached the Grapevine neighborhood. Rafael pulled into the lot next to a bar and grill called the Ice Box. I chuckled as we parked.
“You been here before?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact, I used to come here in high school,” I replied. “The bartender was the older brother of my friend Lizzy, and he served us even though we were underage.”
“I’ve never been, but I heard the food is good.”
We went inside. It wasn’t a dive bar, but it wasn’t super fancy either. A nice in-between place where you could go to have a drink and watch the game. It had a good crowd even though it was a Tuesday night. Based on the signs on the wall, they had a bunch of opening day specials with baseball-themed drinks.
As the hostess led us to a table, I couldn’t help but notice that people were staring at us. One guy at a table we passed nudged his friend and pointed. A table of kids on the other side of the room gawked at us. “I’m sure that’s not him,” their mother said dismissively.
I had to admit: I kind of liked it. It felt like I was famous, too.
“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess said after seating us. She was oblivious to Rafael’s fame.
Rafael picked up the menu. “What’s good here? Since you’ve been here before I’ll trust your recommendation.”
I was still eyeing the table of kids across the room. All of them were turned around in their seats watching us now.
“Um, the burgers are great,” I said. “So are the chicken tenders.”
He looked at me, then glanced over his shoulder. The kids all quickly looked away.
“I think you have some fans,” I said. “I bet you hate getting recognized in public.”
But to my surprise, he twisted in his chair and waved the kids over. “Come on. Come here.”
They nervously got out of their seats and approached us. “Are you really him?” one of the boys asked.
Rafael furrowed his brow.