It works about as well as telling someone in the middle of a panic attack to calm down.
It doesn’t matter though. Even if we wanted it to, this would never work. That thought makes me pause. But what if I wanted it to work?
What ifwewanted it to work?
There’s definitely something between us. No one gets me riled up like she does. What if I walk out of here and blow the only chance I will ever have with this woman?
Why am I thinking about this? As if I’ll ever get the chance to put my mouth on hers again. As if this were a long-term thing.
As if there were feelings involved here.
“But what if ...” I say quietly, “what if we wanted to see what there is here between us? Because you know it’s something.”
She shakes her head. Her closed-off expression is back.
“Why not, Andi?”
“First of all, I hate you.” Andi holds up a finger to count off her points. “Second of all,” she continues, “this is going to cost me my career. The rumor of this”—she gestures between us—“was enough to have me scheduled to fly to Atlanta this week to meet with my supervisors. Themere rumor. And now? What am I supposed to say?”
“That we are two consenting adults who like the way each other smells and tastes.”
She shakes her head, the frustration evident once again. “What am I supposed to do if I—by some huge stroke of luck—keep my job and have to officiate one of your games?”
“Don’t give me a red card?”
Andi lets out a strangled scream. “Don’t you see? You just screwed my career. How am I ever supposed to ref in the MUSSL again? This is a fireable offense.”
“For you or for me?” Before this moment, I never considered that. Hell, I didn’t even consider what it would mean for Andi. I just saw something I wanted, and I went for it. She touched me first.
It was just a kiss.
“Oh, come on, there’s no way you’d even come close to being fired. They’d probably hang up a plaque for you in the locker room. You have no idea, do you? No idea what it’s like for a woman in sports. Not only do women athletes get paid less than their male counterparts, but I as a referee get paid less to officiate a woman’s game. And not only that, I get paid less than my male counterparts doing the same exact job. And for the same work at a lower rate, I get to deal with heckling, wolf whistles, and constant criticism that I don’t know what I’m doing. Calls to go ‘back to the kitchen where I belong.’ Do you have to face any of that?”
We both know the answer, so I don’t patronize her with one.
I do offer this, “If Mike Barnaby had made the same call you did, I would have yelled in his face too. I didn’t get in your face because you’re a woman. It’s just what I do.”
“Well, what you do set in motion a chain of events that has fucked me over. I think you and your stupid hair need to leave now.”
I stare at her for a brief moment and then walk out the door without saying a word. I’ve never heard her curse like that. I get her point, I really do, but why’d she have to insult my hair?
As soon as the door shuts behind me, I open it back up. Andi looks up, startled over my quick return. “For the record, the reason I fouled Trevyon was because he was talking shit to me all game.”
“Everyone talks shit,” she fires back. “You need to have a thicker skin. If you’re going to dish it out, you should be able to take it.”
I shake my head. “No, he was talking shit about my sister. About how she was basically a crack whore and would do anything—and I mean anything—to get money for drugs. And that does include screwing Trevyon and a bunch of his friends when we were playing in Vegas. That’s why I went after him. So yes, my behavior set about a chain of events, but I don’t regret it. I don’t care about many people in this world, but for those I do, I’ll do anything.”
And then I leave. For real this time.
