𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

05. 𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"Uh...football, Welton..." Knox listed off on his fingers, furrowing his eyebrows as his voice trailed off at the very end. "And Bret."

"Chet," you corrected, squeezing your arm around his elbow. "But that makes for an interesting conversation too."

The two of you spoke in hushed tones up the short walkway that led into the front door of the Danburry house. The air was crisp and the sky was plump with burnt orange clouds. Your heels made a pleasant click against the brick path and you tried to focus on the sound instead of every possible way dinner could go south that evening.

The chauffeur—the same gentleman who drove you to and from school each day—tipped his hat and promptly sped off down the road, promising to return at nine o'clock sharp when dinner concluded. The front of the house was painted in soft golden light that streamed in from the tall windows. The Danburry's were fine people who lived in an even finer house. On the drive over, you couldn't help but wonder why they never bothered to send their son to Welton as well.

"But you'll do most of the talking, won't you?" Knox mumbled almost pleadingly, offering you his hand as you stepped up onto the porch. A smile pulled at your lips and you tried to stifle it, fumbling with your clutch. "Todd Anderson, is that you? Lighten up, Knoxie."

You'd heard Charlie call him that once or twice in passing and somehow it just stuck. The nickname stirred something inside of him, like bees rather than butterflies, and Knox rolled his shoulders back, nervously fiddling his red uniform tie before sucking in a deep breath and reaching forward to knock on the door.

You worked together in tandem, both accustomed to the routine of shallow smiles and even shallower conversation. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be all that bad after all.

The door clicked open not a moment later and a face peeked out from the crack in the threshold. "(Y/N)?" A familiar voice chirped, and Chris pulled the door inwards to yank you inside. She was dressed up—but not nearly as formally as you were.

"Chris!" you exclaimed, abandoning your etiquette by letting her engulf you in a quick hug. "I didn't think you were having dinner with us."

"I wish," she said, rolling her eyes and stepping back to allow you both room to enter. "Chet's dragging me to a party at Eddie Nickel's house. His uncle is a talent scout for Notre Dame."

"That's a shame," you replied, shrugging off your shawl and folding it over your arm. "Wish him luck for me."

"I will," Chris promised with another subtle eye roll. She had just as much passion for her boyfriend's football career as you did for Dr. Hager's Latin studies. Just when you thought she might turn away, her eyes floated over to Knox, who you felt was still standing right behind you.

"And who is this?" She asked, looking him up and down briefly in a way that made you want to gag.

Knox cleared his throat and stepped forward, offering his hand for her to shake. "Knox Overstreet. A pleasure."

"Yes, quite," Chris took his hand politely, turning to you with an eager grin. When she was sure that Knox wasn't looking, she mouthed 'keep him' not so subtly under her breath. You shook your head, matching her smile before a fourth presence entered the scene.

"Mr. Overstreet!"

A rough hand clapped down on Chris' shoulder and an older man who you assumed was Mr. Danburry grinned down at you. He looked friendly, albeit carrying that same air of impenetrable sternness that all fathers seemed to carry nowadays.

Knox gulped unsurely but nodded nonetheless. You'd never seen him so hesitant before, not even when you were called into Nolan's office earlier that day. Mr. Danburry shook his hand firmly before turning to you. "And you must be Ms. Aufiery."