Page 73 of Fake Out
“Where are we going?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Trust me,” he responds, a mischievous glint in his eye.
He takes my hand, and I let him lead me towards the car, my mind racing with possibilities. Whatever it is he has planned, I know it’ll be a night to remember.
“You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?” I ask as we pull out of the neighborhood we moved into about eleven months ago.
“Nope.” He laughs, his gaze still on the road. “And you should stop asking.”
“What about a clue?” I rest my hand on his knee, appreciating the obvious way that his body responds to my touch.
“A clue.” He clears his throat like he’s trying to think straight but having trouble. “A clue would give it away.”
I move my hand to the back of his neck. “Fair enough.”
It seems he’s taking a well-worn path, though. By the time we’ve only been driving for fifteen minutes, I start to suspect that I know exactly where he is going.
“Are we…” I trail off.
“You’ll find out.”
The car engine hums as we pull into the empty parking lot of the stadium. I squint at the imposing structure, my curiosity bubbling over.
“Charlie, why are we here?” I ask, trying to decipher his intentions.
He flashes me a warm grin and winks. “You’ll see.”
Excitement rushes through me, my heart skipping a beat as he parks and helps me out of the car. The cool evening air brushes against my skin, the scent of freshly cut grass filling my nostrils as we walk hand in hand towards the entrance.
“Everyone’s gone home by now,” he says, guiding me through the dimly lit corridors of the stadium.
I’m amazed by how different it feels without the usual roar of fans and adrenaline-fueled energy pulsating through the air. The last time I was at the stadium and it was this quiet was a whole year ago.
“Is this where you wanted to take me?” I ask, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “To the spot where you are every day?”
“Almost there,” he replies, his grip on my hand tightening as we step onto the field.
The sight before me takes my breath away. A blanket is spread out on the lush green grass, adorned with flameless candles and rose petals, creating an intimate oasis amidst the vast expanse of the stadium.
“Charlie, this is…” I trail off, turning around to face him. “This is so sweet.”
“I thought you would like it.” He goes to the picnic basket and champagne on ice that sit on the blanket.
“I more than like it. I love it.” I take a seat on the blanket. “The perfect way to celebrate our one year here.”
He pops the champagne and fills two flutes.
“Cheers,” he says, handing me one.
The champagne sparkles under the stadium lights. A rich taste of honey and apples spreads across my tongue as I take a sip.
“I wanted this night to be special.” He watches for my reaction.
“It is, Charlie.” I look around the empty stadium, the secluded oasis he’s created in the midst of our hectic lives.
We chat, laugh, and eat a delightful meal that he’s packed. His stories about his rookie year on the football team are hilarious and entertaining. His laughter is infectious and soon enough, I’m clutching my sides in glee.
As the night deepens, our conversation slows down, replaced by comfortable silence. In the quiet, I can hear the low hum of city life in the distance, a reminder of reality lurking just beyond this magical bubble.