Collide Into You: A Romantic Gender Swap Love Story (13 page)

Nine Year Crush.

Now, however, after the game, as we walk to grab a beer and as Alec asks about my brewing path and how I came up with the name, I don’t tell this story. I tell another one.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, but I feel confident that there’s a woman involved,” Alec says with a small laugh.

“With Dillan,” Tanner chimes in, “there’s always bound to be a woman involved.”

For some reason, Keira glances at Stacey after these two statements, and Stacey also notices. “Oh, none of this bothers me,” Stacey says with a wave of her hand as she checks her e-mail on her smartphone. “God forgot to add the jealous bone when he created me.” What she doesn’t say is,
I have nothing to be jealous of. Look at me. Goddess Bernadine Stacey can have any man she wants.
Keira, on the other side of Stacey, smirks. I wonder if she’s thinking the same as me.
 

“Watch it, Nguyen,” I say to Tanner in my easy-going voice. “I want you all to picture a twenty-one-year-old college student. Sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but is he smart? Is he tenacious? Is he hell-bent on winning every single bet given to him? Absolutely.” Everyone laughs. Tanner opens the door to Preston’s Pub. The place is packed and we shift, dodge, and wiggle our way to a back corner with a stand-up table and no chairs. The smell of pizza punches me in the gut. I’m so hungry, I want two to myself, like right now.
 

“So,” I continue my story. “This great-looking, smart, ambitious kid enters a small beer competition. And loses big time. It crushes him. It deflates his soul. It makes him question his purpose in life. But mostly, it embarrasses him.” Keira watches me seriously. Can she tell I’m lying? “And avoiding embarrassing moments are what motivates the kid to keep trying. And he does. For nine years. When it came time to name the beer,
Nine Year Crush
seemed rather appropriate.”

“That’s a great journey,” Alec says and then orders a round of beers for our table. All the waitstaff and the owner stop by to say hi to Alec and Tanner. “Ever thought about expanding? Selling it to local pubs?” Alec asks me.

“Not really.” I laugh him off, but he asks the questions that I’ve been asking myself. I made the beer. It’s good.
Really
good. Everyone who has had it loves it. Now what? That’s the question. I can’t stop brewing it. Not now. And I can’t reveal the truth to anyone, not even Jon. Certainly not Keira. “I mean,” I say. “I only just got it right. I should probably make a few more batches before I self-congratulate.”

“Dillan’s a great cook, too,” Keira blurts out.

I’m nearly too stunned to respond. It might be the first compliment she’s ever paid me. And she said it in front of
other
people. I should ask Stacey to check Keira for signs of a fever. I stare at my roommate for half a second. “Thank you,” I say. I wonder if this is her way of apologizing for the other night.
 

“I concur,” Stacey says, leaning into me. She’s not one for a public display of affection, but she kisses my ear, whispering, “And a fine baker.” She leans back, saying loudly, “I’d call him a complete package.”

Tanner laughs, Alec grins into his longneck bottle before looking over to Keira, and Keira, after finding a few pair of eyes on her, shifts uncomfortably.
 

“I can neither confirm nor deny Stacey’s statement,” she says in a rush, her cheeks flushing.

Alec clears his throat. He looks ready to go. “Let me know if you change your mind, Dillan. About selling your beer. I’d need to grab a few samples from you, but Nationals Park likes to carry locally brewed beer. Tanner,” he adds, turning to his teammate. “Sorry, bro, but I can only stay for one beer tonight.” They shake hands. “It was really nice meeting you, Dillan and Stacey.” He shakes our hands as well. He pauses at Keira and this is where my stomach pulls. “I was wondering…” He hesitates.
 

“Yes?” Keira asks. At some point in the evening, her hair has come partially undone. She looks a little tired, like maybe she’s had a rough week. But the flush at her cheeks gives her a healthy, lovely glow.

“Can I offer you a ride home?” Alec asks.

Keira’s mouth makes an O, Stacey gives the pair a dazzling smile, and Tanner Nguyen, my best friend’s boyfriend, my good friend, the guy who’s setting Keira up with someone I cannot possibly compete with, decides to be helpful by adding, “I trust Alec with my life, Keira.”

Damn you, Tanner, and your awesomely amazing matchmaking skills to the stars.

With friends like these, who needs enemies?

Where was a two-story building and a swimming pool when you needed one?

“Okay,” Keira finally answers Alec. “That’d be nice. Goodnight everyone.” She hugs Tanner and Stacey. Keira just nods at me and says something about seeing me back at the apartment. I’m back to being that twenty-one-year-old college guy trying to impress an eighteen-year-old girl who refuses to see him at all.

“Night, Keira,” I mumble at her passing figure. I watch as Alec takes her hand in his and walks her to the door. Everyone greets him on the way out, slapping his back and congratulating him on a great game. They make way for him, for her, and it just now dawns on me that there’s nothing I can actually do to get Keira to notice me. I’ll call it
The Nine Year Lesson
.

Keira

I
LET
GO
OF
HIS
hand as soon as we exit the pub. The air is thick with pre-summer heat, even at eleven at night, and the buzzing of bugs fills the gaps in my conversation with Alec. His car is at the stadium, so we have to retrace our steps.

“How long have you been in the Army?” he asks. It’s usually everyone’s first question. Men will go on to ask about my training, how well I handle weapons, my deployments, and wonder how long I plan to stay in.

Women sometimes ask the same questions, but add other touches. Am I ever sexually harassed? Are all men in uniform hot? And how do I manage to resist all of them? Have I ever been discriminated against? They wonder if I’ll ever have children and if I’ll stay in the military if I do. I have stock answers for most, but I keep the real answers deep inside.

“Nine years,” I answer easily. Some of the real answers: Have I been sexually harassed?
Yes
. Are all men in uniform hot?
Not normally.

I have been discriminated against a couple of times due to being a woman. During my last deployment, my former brigade commander told me that he didn’t think I could do as good a job as my predecessor—a male staff sergeant. His statement implied it was because I was a female, even though my work ethic and solid reputation preceded me.

I don’t know if I’ll have children. I don’t know if I
want
children, so this means I don’t have to worry about my military career ending. As if children somehow derail a woman’s career in the military. I can name at least four women Army generals who actively raised their children
and
served their country
and
were deployed multiple times. Not to mention plenty of other active-duty single parents who actively serve.

“How old are you? Twenty-seven?” he asks, and I nod. We’re now walking through cars in the lot. He stops at a svelte Corvette. It’s red, curvy, and gorgeous all over. “Do you plan to stay in until retirement?”

Please let this be his car. I love it already.
 

“I have no reason not to, to be honest. I love what I do. It’s extremely fulfilling. It certainly isn’t glamorous like Major League Baseball.” My insides rejoice when he unlocks the driver’s side door, leans in, and then opens the passenger side door.

“Hate to break it to you, Keira,” he says over the roof, staring at me as I stare at his beautiful car. “Pro ball isn’t as glamorous as you might think. Half the season, we’re on the road. Wrecks the hell out of families. Other half is here or in training or, in some cases, physical therapy and benched.”

I slide into the bucket seat. I haven’t kept a close watch on Alec’s career, but he must have recently finished physical therapy. Then I remember one of the tabloids reported he had been in rehab and the cover suggested it was for drug or alcohol addiction. Tucked in there was a story about a wild night with a Nats fan. Who knows what’s truth or not?

“You’re certainly painting a lovely picture for me, Alec.”

He turns the ignition. “I like how you say my name. Alec. Just Alec.”

“Oh,” I say for lack of a prepared response. “Do you go by another name? I have to admit that I only follow Tanner’s career. So you might have to cut me some slack on my not knowing your facts and figures.”

Alec turns to me, briefly, as we pull out of the parking lot.

“Ditto, Keira. With you, I only want to be Alec. Not a superstar, not a famous person, and not this perfect person fans have built me up to be.”

I return his smile. “So you’re not claiming to be an infamous player
and
playboy?” Hopefully he can tell I’m only kidding.

“Well, that depends on which Alec you want to meet tonight. Choice A is the real me. Choice B is the celebrity persona that fits the lifestyle of a MLB pitcher.”

The Corvette glides down mostly empty roads. It won’t take long to reach Dillan’s apartment.
 

“Do I have to choose? I think I’d rather enjoy my few moments with you, say good night, and have bragging rights by claiming that I not only met you but I had one beer
and
a ride in your Corvette.”

We pass Ellen’s Corner Bakery. A figure locks up and I can only assume it’s Ellen, but whoever it is is taller and thinner than Ellen. When I turn back, whoever it is is gone.

“I don’t know what to make of you,” Alec says with a chuckle. “Most girls would be climbing on me by now—not that that’s what I hoped would happen,” he quickly amends when I shoot him a dark look. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll say it like this: you’re sort of straight-laced, but I don’t mean that in a bad way. You’re like a police officer.”

Dillan’s apartment rises before us and Alec parks in a spot half a block down from the main entrance.
 

“I’m a soldier,” I say. “There’s a distinction.”
 

“I would agree, but I’ve never met a soldier like you. In fact, most get a little crazy. Not all the time, of course. But you…” He hesitates. “Do you ever get crazy? Like, is the craziest thing you’ve done is sleep on mismatched sheets? I mean, do you even put sugar in your coffee?” I can tell he joking by the huge smile plastered on his face.

Keira Holtslander, you could do with a bit of disorder.
It’s only because we passed Ellen’s bakery that her voice has jumped into my head.

“The craziest thing I’ve done is jump out of thirty-three perfectly good airplanes.”

“That’s definitely crazy.”

“I should be going.” I reach for the handle. “Thanks for the ride.”

“I want to see you again.”

My heart stops. Why does this happen? The man is gorgeous. Nice. And by all accounts, a really decent guy. Spending time with him for a few weeks wouldn’t be so bad, would it? He isn’t a soldier, so that’s a plus in his favor.

“I don’t know, Alec.” I keep my hand on the handle. “I might only be here for a few weeks before I go back to Fort Bragg. It’s probably not a good idea for me to get involved.” Sometimes, even
I’m
too rational to myself.

“Whatever you’ve read about me is wrong. I’m not like that.”

I search his eyes. Even in the dark, I can tell he’s being truthful. I sort of thought so the entire time. Besides, Tanner indicated as much, and I trust him a whole lot more than I trust my instincts when it comes to men.

“I believe you,” I say.

“Then say
yes
. Or, rather, don’t say
no
.”

“Normally, if I can’t say
yes
, then I say
no
. However, I can’t say
no
, but that doesn’t mean
yes
.”

“Okay, I’m sort of confused now. I don’t know if you’re saying yes, no, or a maybe so. Let’s put it this way. I’m up to bat and you’re pitching me the ball. By the way, it’s a perfect, gorgeous curve ball. Have I struck out or do I get a base run?”

Smiling, I ask, “You really want to use
bases
for your analogy? Because it normally means something else entirely.”

Alec laughs, and I like how it sounds. Normal. He probably likes me for the same reason I like him. We’re just different enough from the other to keep it interesting.
 

“I know, I know,” he pleads with his hands. “Sorry. Been hit too many times in the head.”

My own hands itch at the door.
Disorder. Disorder. Disorder.

“Yes,” I say, finally. “I’ll see you again, but under one condition.”

On a scrap piece of paper, I write down my cell phone number, but I do not hand it over yet.
 

“Okay, what’s the condition?” Laughter coats his words. He’s happy. I smile stupidly in the dark and hope to God that he can’t see it.

“Would you visit our wounded soldiers at Walter Reed Medical Center in Bethesda? I think the soldiers would love to meet you, take pictures, and have you sign autographs. I can put you in contact with the right people.”

For a split second, I wonder if I’ve asked the wrong thing. No doubt Alec Huffman is inundated with these types of requests. If it wasn’t soldiers, it would be other charities or foundations or schools wanting his presence to elevate their cause.

“Normally,” he says, slowly, “if I can’t say no, I must say yes.”

“So it’s a yes?”

“I think we’re both saying yes.”

“Here.” I hand him my number, smile, and climb out of the car. “I had a fun time. Good night.”

“Me, too.” Alec calls a good night, waves from the car as he drives off, and I stand there longer than necessary. Footsteps click behind me. Turning, I find Dillan watching me with a guarded expression. Sometimes I just can’t seem to understand him. One minute he’s carefree Dillan, the next he’s thoughtful and considerate.
 

I don’t do drama. Stacey’s nowhere in sight. Just Dillan. He holds two cups of iced coffee. I recognize the logo on the sleeve. Ellen’s. Lucky him got coffee before she closed. Silently, he moves in step with me, hands me one of the cold cups, and we head to the apartment together. Silently. It feels off.
He
feels off. Normally, I would welcome his silence.