Page 28 of Lavender and Linebackers

“Lexi always says the same thing,” Bryan backs him up. “She’s diligent about making our bed.”

“She isn’t trying to improve productivity. She’s trying to keep the pie crumbs out,” Sully says.

“What about you?” Bryan asks her, ignoring Sully.

Ross swings the camera around to catch Danica’s response.

“Oh.” She’s surprised. “Well, I’m pretty particular, and I always make mine. I don’t like it when the bottom sheet has wrinkles.”

I know what she’s talking about. It’s annoying when you stretch your leg out, and the bottom sheet is bumpy.

“This is what I’m saying,” Sully chimes in. “Must be smooth. There’s no eating, no pets, and no shoes. Prevents all crumbs and keeps them cool and fresh. If you haven’t already, you should get the bamboo sheets,” he tells her.

“No eating, no pets, no shoes, sounds a lot like no women, too,” Rico mocks. “It’s okay, bro. We still love you.”

“You gonna love me tomorrow when I have you running suicides?”

All humor drops from Rico’s face, while the rest of us laugh.

Chapter 10

Ryder

The expression out there about how loving someone so much it can hurt is exactly how it is for me when it comes to Alice Monarch. I didn’t know it at the time, but I first fell in love with her in the sixth grade, and as the years passed, that love turned into a low ache, then a constant ache, and now I just hurt. I hurt badly because of her, and no matter what I do, it won’t go away. Not leaving her. Not years away from her. When it comes to her, it still hurts.

Like chronic pain.

One that won’t go away and there’s no cure to fix it.

I’m grateful for the reprieve of the break in seeing her over the past week, but having to go back to our school, it’s like I’m self-inflicting a wound that can’t scab or heal. And the thing about going to one school for most of your education is that all of your memories are cemented here. Like an old home movie, clips of Alice and me together flash through my mind as I steer the truck toward the north end zone of the field. The end zone where our team would stand pregame behind a large rip-apart banner that the cheerleaders held, and as our team announcer did his dramatic lead-up to our theme song and we burst through the tunnel, I would always find her and stop.

After our first middle school football season, we were sitting in advisory when she announced that we needed a handshake. She didn’t want it to be complicated, just something quick that only she and I shared. After many suggestions and different attempts, we decided on an up high high five, then our hands arced and swung down to a low high five, and we finished with a fist bump. In the tunnel, we would do this, and then with both hands, she’d slap my shoulder pads and mouth, “Go kick their ass.”

Every time I would smile. It was so unlike her to use the word ass, but not at the same time. I always found it funny and endearing. After all, it was for me.

But not anymore. Now all her time, secret handshakes, and inside jokes are with other people, and I can’t tell if I’m jealous and hate it, or if I’m really indifferent and this is just situational.

I park my truck in the same spot against the fence, which bumps up next to the field that I parked at for years. Much of my life has changed, but here nothing has. Everything looks exactly the same, and I feel like I’ve gone back in time. From the track color to the scoreboard, the pirate flag flying high, and the painted club banners tied to the fence for tomorrow’s rival game, it’s eerie. And what I mostly didn’t expect is to feel like I don’t belong.

I was a king on this campus, and now I feel like a fish out of water.

Why? The only reason I can come up with is that she’s not by my side. This was our place, one we ruled together, and we aren’t a “we” anymore. I’m in a place I now have to navigate by myself. It feels wrong. It feels sad.

Everyone in the group turns to greet me as I walk up to join them on the sidewalk outside the back side of the gymnasium. There’s Dean Rivas, Coach Ciao, Ms. Smith, the Tarpons social team, a few students, and Alice. I know I’m not running late, but somehow I feel like I am.

“There he is,” Coach Ciao calls out, hugging me as I approach him first, and then I proceed to exchange greetings around the circle. “Dean Rivas, it’s nice to see you.” We shake hands while he smiles up at me. That’s what happens when you’re pretty much taller than everyone.

“We appreciate you two volunteering to come and see us today. I know the students are going to love it.” Dean Rivas beams. It’s about this time that King Silver comes running out of the athletic training department, where I assume he was getting dressed into the mascot costume. I already know the students will be more excited to see him than us.

“Of course. You reach out, and I’ll come back as often as you like,” I tell him. After all, it was this school that helped me achieve my dreams. Yes, it takes talent to get recruited, but our coaches go above and beyond to help kids play collegiately if that is what they want.

I glance at Alice. She’s having a side conversation with Mrs. Smith, and my chest constricts. She’s so beautiful. Long brown hair, curled perfectly. Her lips are all shiny as she talks animatedly, and she’s wearing one of those trendy athletic tennis skirts that girls wear right now, showing off her lean legs. I hate that she makes me long for her, and after how professional she was at the football jamboree after my jab at her drinking coffee, I don’t have it in me to banter with her today.

I feel emotionally exhausted.

Dean Rivas’s cell phone pings, and he looks at the message.

“All right, everyone. The students are in place, I think we can head on in.”