Chapter 22: TJ
Friends?
I must have used that word seven times.I was overcompensating for being chicken shit.But I can’t put into words how being with her makes me feel.It’s abundantly clear I’m not her type.I don’t think she has a type.You would have to put yourself out there to have a type.But if she had a type, he would not be a barely literate, dumb jock with no life plan.
She’s definitely not my type.She reads books for fun, for Pete’s sake.I bet she got straight A’s in school.Nicky’s type, maybe.But not mine.
Yet I find myself thinking about her at the most inopportune times.Like today during the game, when I spied her sitting next to my parents.Not so much as spied as I was looking for her.No book today.
Because I was looking for her, I missed a passed ball that led to the Thunder intercepting.They didn’t score on it, but they could have.I’m disappointed in myself for not being more focused.And if I’m this distracted by her friendship, there’s no way in hell I could be involved with her.It would be career suicide.
So I fight with myself not to text her as soon as I get home.
And when I wake up the next morning.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.I must check my phone twenty-five times a day to see if she’s texted me.Nothing.
By Wednesday, when we’re flying from Boston to Las Vegas, I can think of little else.I’m barely making content, instead relying on recycled videos to keep my views up.Doomscrolling on ClikClak is not doing anything to keep my mind occupied.Not even the magic trick videos are keeping me interested.
I power down my phone and attempt to sleep for most of the six-hour flight.I swear, I can feel the Vegas heat before we deplane.Johnson, our athletic trainer, is shouting at us to hydrate.
I turn my phone on to see a string of text messages.
Rachel: Hi.
Rachel: Hypothetically speaking, where in Las Vegas do you play, and is there a hotel close by?
Rachel: Also hypothetically speaking, is it close enough to take a cab or an Uber?
Rachel: Hypothetically of course.
Rachel: I mean, I was just thinking about it.You know, like you said, flying by myself.
Rachel: It’s a stupid idea.Forget I said anything.
Rachel: Hope the game goes better.
The timestamp reveals that she texted over the better part of two hours.She probably thinks I’m upset.Or that I don’t want her to come out.Nothing could be further from the truth.Excitement races through my veins, right down to my hands, and I bobble the phone as I’m trying to type.
Before my phone can hit the floor, Xavier Henry shoots out his hand and grabs it.
"Nice catch.Thanks," I say as he hands it back to me.
He tilts his head."You okay?You look a bit off."
"Yeah, fine.My friend is looking to fly out here for the game.It’s good news."
"Ophelia’s flying out, too.She’s never been to Vegas and wanted to see it."
"Same with my friend."Then it occurs to me that I should respond to Rachel so she goes through with making the reservations.
Me: Sorry I didn’t respond.I was on the plane out here, and I turned off my phone.
The response is immediate.
