Page 62 of Notorious Man on Campus

Brick

The NFL Draft

It’s late afternoon when I walk into the kitchen and see Nyla washing pots and pans making all kinds of noise. She turns around and her smile blinds me but I have no inclination to run the other way, or to put on shades and act cool, instead, I go to her outstretched arms, drawn in by the warmth knowing it won’t burn me.

Knowing she’s worth the chance, that I can take whatever she gives me, that I want everything she has.

“You look like a daydream,” I say.

“Better than a nightmare,” she says, wrapping me up, standing on her toes and turning her face up for a kiss. I don’t disappoint her.

“The draft starts in an hour,” Dylan says crashing down the stairs and rushing through the kitchen. Dad and Jimmy are coming at Majik’s invitation.

I’m still worried that Jimmy’s forgiveness, or rather lack of rancor was too easy, that maybe a tiny part of him will question my loyalty as his brother. Even though he didn’t consider Nyla his girlfriend, I didn’t know it at the time and he should feel some sense of betrayal. I know I would, but I can’t imagine being anything but madly in lust with Nyla, so it’s different.

“Hey you two.” Majik comes in the back door and fills the kitchen with her presence. She hangs up her coat on the hook and heads for the table, beckoning us with a wave of her hand. “Let’s talk.”

“What’s this?” It’s so unlike her to make a big deal out of anything, not even NFL draft night. This isn’t the first for the guys of BMOC House to get excited about.

“Jimmy’s bringing a guest and he wanted me to let you know.”

“Yeah? Someone special?” I’m hopeful and that possibility would go a long way to explain his lack of residual resentment.

“Yes.” She pauses and I know there’s something more. I freeze my emotions, putting up the walls of ice. They go back into place easily after so many years of practice.

“Don’t get excited,” she says.

“Who is it already?” Nyla leans on the edge of her chair, sensing something big. My heart beats fast and I tighten my hold around her shoulders. She squeezes my thigh under the table and that fortifies me.

“No big deal. You know him. Jimmy’s bringing Patrick from the tire store. They’ve been seeing each other and—”

“What?” Nyla gasps and then laughs. Me? I’m ecstatic as hell, and the excitement I feel from Nyla seeps through me and I let out a breath.

“And what?” My voice is normal and more than curious.

“And he’s serious. They’re going to be moving in together and he’s nervous that—”

“No need for nerves on my behalf,” I say. I pull out my phone to text him as gladness, a lighthearted feeling I hardly knew for fifteen years, now creeping up on me more and more these days. The more time I spend with Nyla, the more lighthearted I feel. No accident there.

“Good idea,” Nyla says, excitement bubbling over.

“Suit yourself,” Majik says, getting up from her chair. “Nyla, I’ll need your help in a half hour.” Nyla gives Majik a quick nod and then looks over my shoulder as I text my brother.

Heard ur bringing Patrick. Glad u have someone specL C U Soon.

“That’s it?” Nyla nudges me. “No love, Brick?” I snort and give her a pinch.

“Baby steps.”

Aside from the TV camera with the NFL network logo set up in the corner of the room, I tell myself this is like any other football watch party. The room is crowded and I’m pacing around with a beer near the front door waiting for my Dad and Jimmy to arrive with his surprise guest. I shake my head, still dazed about how I had no idea that Jimmy was seeing someone special. I never thought of him as a serious relationship kind of guy.

As always, the media guys take a few minutes with Jimmy because he’s that kind of guy. He bows out after a short time and spreads his hands in my direction.

“There’s the man of the hour, the one you should be talking about.”

“Don’t forget Roman Delano. I bet he gets taken before me.” I’m the only one on that bet, but my confidence in my draft spot doesn’t reach the dizzying heights of almost everyone else, especially Nyla.

I’m too aware of my flaws and mistakes to think of the first round as a possibility. Or maybe it’s my refusal to give in completely to the seduction of hope.