The Game Plan
Page 40
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I swallow and focus on Mom. She’s telling me about a yeast delivery gone bad, her voice breathy with exasperation, and I blink hard. I miss her. I miss Dex. I miss everyone.
I clutch my phone, feeling lost and abandoned, which is ridiculous. No one has left me behind. I’m here because it’s where I chose to be. This is life. Like some messed-up game of Boggle, it shakes us all up, and we land where we fall.
This isn’t even close to the first time I’ve felt this way. But usually I’m able to distract myself with friends and parties and laughter. Only I can’t find it in me to laugh anymore. And I wonder if this is the only way life can be. Because I want some fucking control back.
Chapter Nineteen
Dex
“Look, it’s Sinatra!” Delgado, my fellow lineman, shouts when I walk into the locker room.
I’m greeted with a rousing chorus of “Gold on the Ceiling,” all of it off-key and loud. I’d been informed by a cackling Gray that video of my karaoke performance had gone viral. If that hadn’t been enough, the ESPN highlight, complete with accompanying jokes, made it clear I’d get my fair share of shit come Monday morning.
“Yeah, yeah,” I wave an idle hand. “Laugh it up, fuzzballs.”
Sampson, a nose tackle, makes an attempt to roar like Chewbacca but ends up choking, which cracks the guys up even more.
Grinning, I sit down and kick off my shoes. Finn Mannus, my QB, saunters over, a smile wide on his face. He gives my shoulder a hearty slap. “So, Dexter, have a good week off?”
“Say what you’re gonna say, Manny, and fuck off,” I tell him lightly.
He’s still grinning at me like a smug fuck. “I must say, I enjoy seeing you hang your balls out, Dex. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Pretty sure there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I’ve stripped down to get in my gear when I catch his eye. He’s no longer smug but serious.
“That’s kind of the point,” he says. “You’re my center.”
His words give me pause. I like Finn. He’s a rookie, which especially sucks for him because he has to carry the team without the freedom to ease into his job. But he’s also a good quarterback, and it’s my job to protect him. But I don’t know him like I know Drew. I haven’t taken the time. Guilt tilts in my belly.
“Come out for a beer with me later,” I suggest. “And I’ll tell you all about my wild week.”
He looks at me with those famous baby blues that have women all over America sighing and throwing their panties in his direction. Doesn’t do anything for me, but I’m comfortable enough in my manhood to see what chicks dig about him. I guess I’m doomed to always cover pretty boys.
“Yeah,” he says. “Sounds good.” He moves to go but then halts. “Hell. We’ve got that photo shoot at four.”
A scowl works across his face, and now I’m the one who’s laughing. “Ah, the charity calendar. Thought that would be right up your alley, GQ.”
Apparently not, if his disgusted look is anything to go by. “Charity, yes. I’d just rather do it talking to a bunch of kids or something, not offering my ass up like a side of beef.”
“Aw, Manny,” says Sampson, walking past, “but it’s such a big ass. Almost as big as your head.” With that, he snaps a towel at said ass and takes off as Mannus lunges for him.
“Keep running, dickhead,” Mannus calls.
I suit up, more than happy for the attention to slide off of me and back to Mannus, where it belongs. Only that isn’t the case. For the rest of practice, guys serenade me. On the sidelines, when I’m gulping down Gatorade and stretching out my burning quads, Dean Calloway, the offensive line coach stands beside me, his gaze on the other players, but his mouth twitching.
“Guess I know who’ll be the lead in our annual team musical, Dexter.”
“Didn’t know we had a musical, Coach.” I toss my empty bottle into the trash.
He turns to me. “Maybe we should start one now.” Giving me a slap on the back, he ambles off with a, “Good work, Dex.”
I watch him go, and it occurs to me that although I’ve played for this team for going on two years, I haven’t really engaged. It’s too easy for me to hide away from the world. But laughing with my team, not taking shit too seriously, it feels good.
I could be happy, genuinely happy. There’s only one thing missing, and she’s over a thousand miles away.
Fiona
I’m headed out for drinks when Dex calls. Which has me grinning even before I answer the phone. “Hey.”
“Hey, Cherry.” His deep voice gives me a little thrill. Every single time. “What you up to?”
“Going out for drinks with Anna.” I dart across 5th and weave past a slow-strolling tourist family.
“Drew’s Anna?” Dex asks in obvious surprise.
“Yep. We’ve gotten to know each other over the years. Gray always invites her and Drew to spend Christmas with us.”
Drew lost both his parents when he was in high school, and Gray lost his mother to cancer around the same time. Gray has made it a priority never to let Drew go a holiday without family. “Family” being him, and now Ivy and me.
“Right, I forgot about that. Kind of kicking myself for going home to my parents’ instead of to Gray’s Christmas party last year,” Dex says with a wry laugh.
I clutch my phone, feeling lost and abandoned, which is ridiculous. No one has left me behind. I’m here because it’s where I chose to be. This is life. Like some messed-up game of Boggle, it shakes us all up, and we land where we fall.
This isn’t even close to the first time I’ve felt this way. But usually I’m able to distract myself with friends and parties and laughter. Only I can’t find it in me to laugh anymore. And I wonder if this is the only way life can be. Because I want some fucking control back.
Chapter Nineteen
Dex
“Look, it’s Sinatra!” Delgado, my fellow lineman, shouts when I walk into the locker room.
I’m greeted with a rousing chorus of “Gold on the Ceiling,” all of it off-key and loud. I’d been informed by a cackling Gray that video of my karaoke performance had gone viral. If that hadn’t been enough, the ESPN highlight, complete with accompanying jokes, made it clear I’d get my fair share of shit come Monday morning.
“Yeah, yeah,” I wave an idle hand. “Laugh it up, fuzzballs.”
Sampson, a nose tackle, makes an attempt to roar like Chewbacca but ends up choking, which cracks the guys up even more.
Grinning, I sit down and kick off my shoes. Finn Mannus, my QB, saunters over, a smile wide on his face. He gives my shoulder a hearty slap. “So, Dexter, have a good week off?”
“Say what you’re gonna say, Manny, and fuck off,” I tell him lightly.
He’s still grinning at me like a smug fuck. “I must say, I enjoy seeing you hang your balls out, Dex. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Pretty sure there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I’ve stripped down to get in my gear when I catch his eye. He’s no longer smug but serious.
“That’s kind of the point,” he says. “You’re my center.”
His words give me pause. I like Finn. He’s a rookie, which especially sucks for him because he has to carry the team without the freedom to ease into his job. But he’s also a good quarterback, and it’s my job to protect him. But I don’t know him like I know Drew. I haven’t taken the time. Guilt tilts in my belly.
“Come out for a beer with me later,” I suggest. “And I’ll tell you all about my wild week.”
He looks at me with those famous baby blues that have women all over America sighing and throwing their panties in his direction. Doesn’t do anything for me, but I’m comfortable enough in my manhood to see what chicks dig about him. I guess I’m doomed to always cover pretty boys.
“Yeah,” he says. “Sounds good.” He moves to go but then halts. “Hell. We’ve got that photo shoot at four.”
A scowl works across his face, and now I’m the one who’s laughing. “Ah, the charity calendar. Thought that would be right up your alley, GQ.”
Apparently not, if his disgusted look is anything to go by. “Charity, yes. I’d just rather do it talking to a bunch of kids or something, not offering my ass up like a side of beef.”
“Aw, Manny,” says Sampson, walking past, “but it’s such a big ass. Almost as big as your head.” With that, he snaps a towel at said ass and takes off as Mannus lunges for him.
“Keep running, dickhead,” Mannus calls.
I suit up, more than happy for the attention to slide off of me and back to Mannus, where it belongs. Only that isn’t the case. For the rest of practice, guys serenade me. On the sidelines, when I’m gulping down Gatorade and stretching out my burning quads, Dean Calloway, the offensive line coach stands beside me, his gaze on the other players, but his mouth twitching.
“Guess I know who’ll be the lead in our annual team musical, Dexter.”
“Didn’t know we had a musical, Coach.” I toss my empty bottle into the trash.
He turns to me. “Maybe we should start one now.” Giving me a slap on the back, he ambles off with a, “Good work, Dex.”
I watch him go, and it occurs to me that although I’ve played for this team for going on two years, I haven’t really engaged. It’s too easy for me to hide away from the world. But laughing with my team, not taking shit too seriously, it feels good.
I could be happy, genuinely happy. There’s only one thing missing, and she’s over a thousand miles away.
Fiona
I’m headed out for drinks when Dex calls. Which has me grinning even before I answer the phone. “Hey.”
“Hey, Cherry.” His deep voice gives me a little thrill. Every single time. “What you up to?”
“Going out for drinks with Anna.” I dart across 5th and weave past a slow-strolling tourist family.
“Drew’s Anna?” Dex asks in obvious surprise.
“Yep. We’ve gotten to know each other over the years. Gray always invites her and Drew to spend Christmas with us.”
Drew lost both his parents when he was in high school, and Gray lost his mother to cancer around the same time. Gray has made it a priority never to let Drew go a holiday without family. “Family” being him, and now Ivy and me.
“Right, I forgot about that. Kind of kicking myself for going home to my parents’ instead of to Gray’s Christmas party last year,” Dex says with a wry laugh.
