Game On (13 page)

“I thought your dad was the one who insisted I come over?” Maya asked.

Travis smiled sheepishly. Busted. Maya didn't think he should feel weird about it. On the contrary, it made her swoon.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Travis said, eager to move on from the subject.

“I'm not sure. Probably practice. The usual,” Maya replied.

“I'd love it if you'd take a quick trip off campus with me,” he said. “If tonight didn't scare you off.”

Maya didn't hesitate. “I'd love to.”

“Great,” Travis said.

Travis drove Maya back to campus and dropped her off. But not before kissing her again.

As Maya climbed the humble steps of Watson back to her room, she didn't know how she'd done it. Not only had she survived dinner, she'd scored her third date with Travis Reed in three days.

If dating were a sport, she'd be a world champion.

Maya didn't know what kind of quick trip Travis had in mind, but somehow it involved picking her up in front of Watson at six in the morning. He'd offered to come upstairs and retrieve her like a gentleman, but she was afraid Cleo would've swung a nine iron into his face for waking her up when it was still pitch-black out.

“Where are we going?” Maya asked as she got in his car. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, though it was really for dramatic effect, as she'd been up for an hour making herself look flawless.

“It's a surprise,” Travis said.

“I just have to warn you, I have a really bad track record with surprises,” Maya informed him. “There have been injuries.”

“What kind of injuries?” Travis asked as he turned onto the highway ramp.

“Let's just say there's a reason my father never had any more children after me,” Maya said pointedly.

He laughed. “I'll take my chances.”

Travis took an exit, the sign for which Maya was convinced she'd read wrong.

“The airport?” Maya asked. “What's at the airport?”

Travis grinned. “Airplanes, of course.”

Travis parked, and in a whirlwind Maya found herself standing outside something that never even crossed her mind: the Academy's private plane.

“Okay, you think I'm joking,” Maya said. “But I'm not going to be able to stop myself from crippling you if you don't tell me what's going on this instant.”

“Mr. Reed,” the pilot said as he opened the door of the plane. He lowered the steps.

“Travis,” Maya said, “I'm not getting on that plane unless you tell me what's going on.”

“You have serious trust issues,” he said.

Maya had serious moving issues. As in, she wasn't moving off that spot unless Travis told her what was happening.

Finally, having no other choice, he told her. “I'm taking you for a lesson.”

Maya scrunched her face. Lessons. She hadn't expressed any interest in flying. This was just some other random rich-people activity she didn't get at all, like eating cucumber sandwiches or going to horse races just to wear the stupid hats. But it could be cool. So she relented.

As they ascended, Maya waited for the pilot to call her up to the cockpit. Five thousand feet. Ten thousand feet. Fifteen
thousand feet. Patience wasn't Maya's strong suit, either, so when they hit twenty thousand feet, she turned to Travis, who flipped lazily through a magazine.

“When am I grabbing the wheel?” she asked him.

“What are you talking about?” He flipped a page.

“The wheel, the stick, whatever you steer this thing with,” she said. “When does my lesson start?”

Travis laughed. “Maya, I'm not giving flying lessons. I'm not suicidal.”

Now she was really confused. “What are we doing, then?”

“I told you,” he said. “We're taking a quick trip.”

Maya's eyes went wide. “You're taking me somewhere? Like, away? Where?!”

“If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise,” he said.

“And if you don't tell me, it's kidnapping,” she said. “How can you fly us anywhere? We didn't go through airport security. I didn't show a single person my ID.”

“Remember that guy with the clipboard?” he asked.

Maya vaguely remembered Travis sharing all of five words with a guy when they came in. “That was it?”

“Different rules for different people, Maya.” It was the exact same thing Cleo had said when Maya got kicked out for the Great Framed-Poster Heist and Nicole walked away scot-free. Maya was the “different people” now, and she kind of liked it.

But she was still on a plane going who knows where.

“Do you trust me?” Travis asked.

She thought about it. “You won't even give me a hint of where we're going?”

He mimed sealing his lips.

She considered. “You're lucky I don't know how to work a parachute.”

Travis smiled. They continued on to destinations unknown, Maya wondering what she'd gotten herself into until the early-morning hour caught up to her and she fell back asleep.

“Maya, Maya, we're here.” Travis was leaning over her.

Maya woke up slowly. “How long was I out for?” She suddenly became acutely aware of her breath and did everything to avoid talking in his direction until she could locate a piece of gum.

“Not long,” he said.

The pilot opened the door and ushered them onto the tarmac, where a limo waited. Maya had never stepped foot in a limo. The driver greeted them cheerfully.
“Bem-vindo,”
he said.

Maya looked at Travis, alarmed. “
Bem-vindo? Bem-vindo
's not English.”

“No, it is not,” he said, a devilish look in his eyes.

“You took me out of the country?!” Maya blurted. “How did you do that without my passport?”

Travis held a copy of her passport up.

“The Academy keeps everyone's on file,” he said. “You know, because of all the traveling we do to international competitions.” All she could do was shake her head.

“Shall we?” Travis helped her into the limo, and they drove off. Maya should've been studying everything inside, but her eyes were darting everywhere outside looking for the smallest clue to where they could be.

The farther they got from the airport, the more beautiful the view. By the time she saw beaches, she knew. The Bahamas was a quick plane ride away—kids talked about taking flights over all the time. It was obviously her turn, and she couldn't be happier.

“You know where we are, don't you?” Travis asked.

She didn't know what to say. “Travis, you're too much.”

And then she saw it. It was a road sign with three little words that blew her mind to pieces.

Rio de Janeiro.

“Rio de …?” When she could think again, Maya whipped her face to Travis's. “Rio de Janeiro?
We're in Rio de Janeiro?
”

Travis beamed.

“This is a little trip? You took me to Brazil!” Though the roof of the limo was a mere foot from the top of her head she managed to stand. “Travis, I have school. I know you can do whatever you want, but I can't. I'm on scholarship; scholarship kids can't fly down to Brazil—”

“Maya, you're with the son of the Academy owner,” he said. “I don't want to sound like a schmuck here, but, you know … you'll be fine.” She wasn't totally convinced. “I have this all planned out. We're overnighting it back. You'll barely miss a thing, I promise. Enjoy yourself. You're in Rio!”

She was. She was in Rio. And it made absolutely no sense to her whatsoever. In this moment, she might as well have been on the moon.

“Admit this is cool,” he said. “Admit it or I'll take you right back to the airport this minute and we'll fly home now.” It was
like he needed her to be blown away. When she couldn't leap on it, he rolled down the windows and motioned to the gorgeous beaches as they drove past. Music filled the air as people went about their daily business flashing unbelievable amounts of skin. There was a guy jogging in a Speedo, a woman pumping gas in a bikini and flip-flops.

Travis motioned toward the mountains above them, where a giant Christ statue held its arms open wide, embracing the entire city.

“Okay,” Maya said begrudgingly. “It's cool.”

“It's like pulling teeth!” Travis said.

Finally, Maya broke. “Yes! Okay, of course it's cool—are you kidding me?” Maya said. “This is amazing, it's just … Travis, it's too much. Too much for me. I don't …”

“Deserve it?” Travis asked.

“I'm not saying that,” Maya said. But she was kind of saying it. “It's just more than …” She didn't know how to say it. “Travis, I'm not used to this.”

“Don't worry,” he said, calming her. “We're just going to see one little part of Rio. Nothing too crazy.”

“What part?” she asked.

“This part,” he said. The limo pulled over in front of a storefront dance studio. A woman with a deep tan and a long dress was waiting for them.

“What is this?” Maya asked.

“I told you I was taking you for a lesson,” he said. When she didn't say anything, he continued. “You said it was your dream to learn how to samba, to walk into a room and be,
like, ‘bam' with your hips. …” He did the little move she did at dinner. “Flavia de Souza is the best samba teacher in the world. She's going to teach us.”

Maya stood there. “You brought me to Rio to give me a dance lesson?”

“No,” he said. “To give
us
a dance lesson.”

Rio suddenly paled in comparison to this moment right here.

“Shall we?” Travis asked, reaching for her hand. She smiled as he led her to Flavia, and their lesson.

Flavia was the most emotional woman Maya had ever met. Every breath she took was dramatic. Every step filled with passion. But it was all completely elegant. Maya was not born with elegance, so Flavia made it her mission to draw it out of her.

At first, Flavia danced with Maya alone, leading her through the steps of a samba. Somehow, dancing with this strange woman seemed like the most natural thing on earth. Maya went from plodding along the floor to gliding with the music.

“Look at you!” Travis beamed. He was going through the steps with Flavia's assistant, and doing okay. He was perfect at a lot of things, but dancing was something that seemed to require his total concentration.

“You are doing the steps,” Flavia told Travis. “But you are not feeling them. Come.” She stepped aside and handed Maya to him like an offering.

Travis and Maya clasped hands.

“She's not a rake. You are not doing, how do you say, the
yard work,” Flavia said, moving them closer. “Hold her like this.”

Travis and Maya started to dance. With the wild music and the wilder hip swings, Maya felt so out of her element. By the look on his face, she suspected Travis did, too. But they were out of their element together.

“Feel the steps,” Flavia said, dancing with them from behind Maya. “Don't worry about being perfect. Perfect is boring. Perfect is death!”

They continued to dance.

“I'm sorry,” Travis said. “My hips aren't on hinges.” He was genuinely apologetic.

“We can be awful together,” Maya said. She liked that Travis had a flaw. And that, while he might not have been the best, he seemed to be doing his best to enjoy it. It made her enjoy it.

“Now what?” Maya asked.

“Now,” he said, “I have a little business to do down here.” He took off his shirt and dried himself with a towel.

“Business?” Maya asked, looking away as if he were flashing her. She still sneaked a glance or five in the mirrors that lined the walls.

“My dad has a hot prospect down here,” Travis said. “A sixteen-year-old soccer player from the slums.”
The slums
? Maya thought.
Are they allowed to say that?
“I'm supposed to meet up with him tonight, schmooze him a little.”

“Who'd need schmoozing to come to the Academy?” Maya asked.

“His name is Diego,” he said. “His family is poor, so some
lesser academies are throwing a ton of cash at him. But they're not going to do for him what we can do for him. I need to let him know that. Over dinner, so I hope you're hungry.”

“Wait a minute,” Maya said, taking a second for the truth to sink in. “This trip wasn't about me; this trip was about him.”

“Couldn't it be both?” Travis asked.

Travis really was wily. But Maya could only be impressed. And, frankly, a little relieved this wasn't all about her. But he wanted her there, which was really all she needed to know.

“I don't have anything to wear for dinner,” Maya said. “This was all I brought, and it's drenched.”

“Leave that to me,” he said, smiling.

They said good-bye to Flavia and left the studio, but instead of getting back into the limo, Travis walked her a few blocks down the road, to a high-end boutique on the corner.

“Have you ever seen
Pretty Woman
?” Travis opened the door, then ushered her inside, where the owner waited.

“She's even taller than you said she'd be,” the woman marveled.

At first confused, Maya realized what he was planning. “You're not taking me on a shopping spree.”

“Of course not,” Travis said. “The Academy is.” He whipped out a credit card. “It is a business trip, after all.”

The woman and her assistants swooped in and took all of Maya's measurements.

“Travis, no,” Maya said.

“In order to get your scholarship, you agreed to give the Academy a cut of all your potential future earnings,” he said,
sounding ever the businessman. “So in actuality, you're really the one paying for this.”

Wily, wily, wily.

“It's too much,” she said. “Travis, at some point you're going to have to stop.”