Football and Ballet - Jason Collins Page 0,11
usual classes at the youth center, too, so our little one-on-ones aren’t the only time I spend here, Hunter. Newsflash, you’re not the only person in the world who has shit to do.”
“Okay, okay, we’re both busy,” Hunter calmly replied. “But… are you too busy to go out to dinner tonight?”
“Are you serious right now?” I couldn’t believe Hunter’s suggestion. “Why the hell would I want to go to dinner with you, Hunter?”
“So, I can have a chance to explain everything,” he pleaded. “So I can at least get some time to give you my side of the story. Plus, buying you a nice meal is the least I can do after the circus I caused today.”
“Hunter, I don’t think I—”
“Please?” Hunter asked again. “Come on. I’m going to feel like such an asshole if you don’t at least give me a chance to make up for what happened today.”
“Maybe I want you to feel like an asshole.”
“You’d rather make me feel like an asshole than have a free pass to anywhere you want to eat in the city?”
“Anywhere?” I hummed. “Would you be able to get us into Madame Gigi’s?”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. Tonight.” I knew what I was asking for was impossible. Madame Gigi’s had a waitlist that was months-long, people reserving their tables eons ahead of time. What I really wanted was to see Hunter revoke his offer to have dinner together, coming up with some excuse about suddenly remembering he was busy tonight, instead of admitting that he just didn’t have the right pull.
But instead, Hunter shot a wide smile in my direction. “Okay. Madame Gigi’s tonight. Meet me there at seven.”
“But their waitlist is months-deep,” I replied, my jaw daring to drop right on the floor. “How could you… how is that even possible?”
“I’ll figure something out.” Hunter shrugged, still smiling at me. “Like I said, meet me tonight at seven, and we can go from there.”
This wasn’t happening.
How was this even happening?
I stood in the lobby of Madame Gigi’s while a woman in a colorful kimono held a tray of sushi out toward me. The sushi pieces looked like little balls of rice with a variation of shrimp and salmon on top, the fish resting against the rice.
“Salmon? Or Ebi?” The woman’s smile was as bright as her outfit.
“I don’t… I don’t know…” I admitted, my thoughts still in a haze. I glanced around the room, taking in the dark maroon walls, each one meticulously painted with powerful scenes.
I never thought I’d get a chance to be here, much less enjoy a meal. I’d put in my own request for a reservation months ago, just like everyone else, and I was still waiting to hear back about the guestlist.
“Well, just let me know when you make up your mind.” The server smiled again before she walked away from me, heading over to a ritzy-looking group, with the women wearing their tallest heels and the men impatiently checking their Rolexes.
“Hey. There you are.” Hunter grinned at me as he walked up to me in the lobby. “Glad to see they let you in at the door. I was worried about using the whole name system. I thought a place like this would’ve been really shitty about letting people in without seeing I.D. or something.”
“How did you do this?” My question came out accusatory. “Seriously. I’ve been on the waitlist here for months, and you got in in one afternoon?”
“All it took was a few phone calls,” Hunter explained. “Turns out, the owner’s husband is a huge football fan. All he wanted was a few tickets to one of our sold-out games later in the season, and in exchange he said he’d keep a table open for us tonight.”
“That’s…”
“Incredible?”
“Yeah, incredibly privileged.” I tried to pretend like I wasn’t impressed with Hunter’s ability to snag us a table at the hottest restaurant in town.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Hunter beamed before he nodded toward the front area of the restaurant. “Come on. Let’s go get our table.”
“You’re not eating anything,” Hunter remarked, sitting across from me in the booth. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” I murmured, staring down at the spread of food on the table. “It’s just… I’m supposed to be in training for a role, so I’m not really supposed to be eating any carbs.”
“What about the fish?”
“Yeah, that might be okay.” I let out a heavy sigh. “Goddammit. If I would’ve known you’d actually be able to pull this off, I would’ve saved my calories from