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"We might have been." Bec gave him a sly smile.
"Nothing bad, I hope." I ran a hand over my head like I was worried about what they might say. Thing was, I was worried. I couldn't blame Grace if she told them every detail. She didn't need to embellish the story to make me look bad.
"That's for us to know," Ashley said.
"It's not as if he doesn't," Grace said darkly. "Unless he's conveniently forgotten already." She fixed her narrow-eyed gaze on me. "Just in case, I got fired."
I shifted from foot to foot like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Yeah, about that. Can we talk?"
"Isn't that what we're doing?" She was giving me nothing here. I admit it, if I was Grace, I would have given me the finger and maybe dumped a drink on my head. Obviously she was too classy to do either of those things.
For now.
"I mean, just you and me," I said. "Please. I want to clear the air."
Her lips twitched to the side. Did she have to be so cute when she did that? She made me feel even worse than I already did.
"Fine," she said after thirteen hundred years. Okay, a minute or two. Whatever, it felt longer, okay?
"I'm going to join Chase," Ashley said. "It looks like the guys have finished dissecting last night's game."
"Yeah, me too," Bec said. "I mean, I'll join Hawk, not Chase, but for the same reason." I think she was trying to lighten the mood, but this time it didn't work.
"Yeah, that should be done," I agreed. Like any good post game ritual, breaking the game into tiny pieces and bitching about where we went wrong was a part of our lives. We'd spend a lot of the week watching replays and discussing tactics, and where we could improve.
Sometimes it did my head in, especially when I played less awesome than I liked. I'd watched myself fumble the ball at least a hundred times today. More than half of those were in my head.
We could have lost because of me. If we had, I wouldn't have let myself forget it. I never did. My brain was a catalogue of times I could have played better. Of course, it was also a catalogue of times I played so awesome I surprised myself. That wasn't often. I wasn't too shocked at my own talent. Some guys can paint. Some can make furniture. I can play football. I wouldn't be a Rapid if I couldn't.
"Bye, Bam," Ashley said. She patted my shoulder as she walked past. "Good luck."
I blinked. Luck? Did I need luck? Should I see if Grace had a sharp implement before I sat down? I was attached to all the body parts I was about to put under the table. Some more than others.
I sat.
Grace looked at me, her face expressionless except for a tightness around her mouth.
After a while, she raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, I could start," I said awkwardly. Since when was I awkward? Only since I met Grace. Around her, I felt like I was off side more often than not.
She waved a hand for me to go ahead.
I ran a hand over my head again. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to get you fired. If I knew he was going to do that, I would have…"
What? Begged him not to? Told him about visiting those sick kids in hospital? Stole his helicopter to distract him from everything? Okay, that was a bit extreme. Besides, I didn't know how to fly one. Maybe I should learn. Then I could…
"I would have made it right," I said finally.
"How?" she asked.
I frowned. "I don't know. I woulda thought up something."
She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "The damage was done the moment I came up with the whole gala idea. I should have taken more time."
I shook my head. "I should have said I couldn't go. I could have made up some bullshit excuse. Or gone to the hospital first, then to the gala. Then you would have only been pissed that I wore jeans."
