could figure out how to get there? At the window, I asked Dobbs, “What do you want?”
He gave a me a quick glance, then said, “Just a venti coffee with a little cream.”
I turned to the order kiosk where a sleepy-sounding voice recited, “Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get you?”
I said, “A venti coffee with a little cream and a venti chai latte.”
Dobbs squeaked, “Wait. What?”
I looked at him. “I’ll pay for it if it costs too much.”
“You drink freaking chai lattes?”
“Uh, yeah. Problem?”
“A running back of the Badgers drinks—”
“Fuck off, Dobbs. The spices are good for you. For, uh, blood flow. You know, the cardiovascular system.”
I started to turn my head, and he said, “Wait!”
My nostrils flared as I glowered at him. Was he going to make fun of my drink choice again? Could he not at least wait until we’d gotten through the drive-through line?
He looked sheepish. “That, um, sounds good. Change mine to a chai latte too.”
I blinked and turned back to the kiosk, “Make that two venti chai lattes. No coffee.”
“Pick up your order at the window.”
As I drove slowly forward, I was glad he couldn’t see my face too well because I had to be turning red trying not to laugh. Dobbs handed over twelve dollars; I paid the woman, told her to keep the change, handed Dobbs his chai, and put mine into the cup holder.
We got back to the freeway a lot easier than we’d found the Starbucks, and I pointed the car toward home.
We’d gone several miles in silence before Dobbs, sipping his drink and staring out the windshield, said, “Wow, I can feel my blood flowing better already. Good call.”
I sprayed latte all over the wheel and dash as I burst into a laugh, and then we were both howling. Dobbs grinned at me. “One advantage of being gay. You’re allowed to like froufrou drinks. No excuses necessary.”
That stopped my laugh. A reminder from the horse himself that he was gay made my nerves jangle and my belly tighten.
I could tell he was looking at me, and I didn’t want to give him the idea that I was homophobic or anything. So I said, “Hey. Athletes drink froufrou drinks too. You can quote me. So how about some more questions?”
Yeah, I was that desperate to change the subject.
Dobbs figured out he could use the light on his phone to read the Quiz Bowl cards, and we went through a bunch on random topics. I knew answers for maybe a quarter of them, but, crap, I had a lot to learn.
Finally, we both got tired of it, and Dobbs nodded off. I entertained myself for another hour glancing at his face every time we passed a highway lamppost and he was lit up enough to see. It was the first time I’d caught sight of him without glasses since he’d set them aside, and the nighttime fluorescents washed him in shades of gray like an old-time movie.
With his floppy hair, full, wide lips, and the poindexter clothes he affected—lots of wool sweaters and button-down shirts—he was painfully cute. Strong nose, sharp cheekbones, and a sculptured jaw… Add the naughty professor look and my insides did flips. What a freaking shame.
Buildings got farther apart and stretches of snow-bordered road grew longer and lonelier. Finally, I called, “Dobbs. We’re here. Wake up.”
He started and then fluttered his thick lashes. Too pretty. Finally, his eyes opened as I navigated the ruts on the drive that led to the farmhouse. He put on his glasses, stared forward, then out the side window. “Crap. It’s so dark out. Where are we, the moon?”
“Pretty much.”
I pulled up in front of the two-story house my family had occupied since shortly before I was born when my small-town parents had decided to try their hand at farming and way before my brothers came along.
Even though it was one in the morning, my mom opened the front door. She was tall, almost as tall as my father, blonder than me, and wiry. Almost fifty, she looked both younger and older than her age. Younger because she was pretty and fit. Older from way too much stress.
I bounded out of the car and hurried over to give her a hug. Dobbs followed at a tentative pace.
My mom wiped a hand over my face. “You look well but tired.”
I smiled. “Hey, I could say the same about you.” I turned. “Mom, this is my friend, uh, Dobbs.” Jesus, I had no clue