Page 82 of I Want to Know What Love Is

Shelby looks heavenward for a beat and then meets her gaze. “Of course. Why not?”

I can think of a million reasons why not, but I keep my mouth shut. As long as Emily is convinced me and Amanda are serious, she should be satisfied.

As for finding her a guy of her own---well fuck, who knows what’ll happen there, but it’s likely to take more than the remainder of this semester to make it happen.

“We can get Dooley to help,” I say. Shelby grins and high fives me.

* * *

I make it through the day, including the worst practice I’ve had to endure since I was in pop warner football as a scrawny six-year-old, fetching balls and drinks and working with Bane on the playbook to make sure he’s game ready.

The burn of possibly missing the most important game of the season, the Fiesta Bowl, where I’d get to showcase my skills in front of NFL scouts, is partially soothed by the fact that I’ll be seeing Amanda tonight. Shelby’s going to drop me off at ten pm because I can’t park my car there. The only problem is that I’ll need to wake before dawn and jog back to BMOC House.

The cloak and dagger sucks, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t damn excited about it. Because we need to be careful, we’re not taking chances except behind her closed—and locked up tight—doors. What is it with Amanda and locking doors? I’ll be taking it upon myself to double check the locks on all her doors. When we’re in public, we’ll avoid each other as much as possible and where it’s not possible, we’ll pretend we have only a passing acquaintance. Cue in my acting skills.

I’m hoping desperately I won’t need to rely on my acting skills in public at all if possible. This goes through my head as I sit on the bench at my locker and tie my sneakers.

“I could eat a horse tonight,” Bane says from his spot next to me.

“Luckily, Majik will be serving something a lot more appetizing than that. And you deserve it, Bane. Good job today.” He grins and then looks down.

“Sorry the way things went down for you. It’s like being benched on a technicality. Fucking stupid rules suck, man.” He fist bumps me and stands. “Whatever way it goes, man, I’m ready. I’ll handle it.”

“I know you will, Bane.” I’m not lying.

Walking to Shel’s Jeep with Jasper, the three of us lined up like we do after every practice, like comrades in arms, heavy wistfulness crushes my chest. Shit. The days of our easy companionship are winding down, and the best part of being on this team, like any athlete being on any team, the daily back and forth of joking and skirmishes, the side-by-side hard work, the sharing of goals and dreams, being there for each other win or lose, will come to a close.

And it fucking hurts my heart. Sliding into the front seat of the Jeep, I close the door behind me

“You okay?” Shel says. I shrug my shoulder because I can’t risk talking with the ball of emotion the size of a football lodged in my throat.

“It sucks you won’t be around next semester,” Jasper says. “I’ll miss your foolish ass.” I snort and when I turn and look at him, I let my eyes communicate how I feel for me. Shel let’s out a long breath, then without speaking, he starts the car to take us home, to BMOC House. Fuck. I’m going to miss that place too.

“I hope she’s worth it,” Shel says quietly, under his breath so I almost don’t hear it, not even sure if I was supposed to hear it. My heart races and I take a breath, let the question settle in me and give him his answer, whether he expected it or not.

“She is.”

As we arrive back at the house, my phone rattles in my back pack and I fish it out.

“I’ll catch you guys inside for supper in a few.” I stay outside, drinking in the cold pine-scented air and sit on the steps to take the call. It’s mom and I have some explaining to do.

“Honey, sha baby, I heard the most outrageous things on ESPN about you transferring to Boston College—”

“It’s true, Mom. I’m transferring.” There’s a few beats of silence and I close my eyes.

“Oh. But why? What happened?” There’s a note of dread in her voice because she knows there would need to be some kind of trouble to cause me to leave here. And she’s right after all. Trouble number three. Amanda Lake. A giant gorgeous shitload of trouble. The kind that can’t be avoided, only embraced. So I tell her about Amanda and she listens and when I finish the story she sighs long and hard.

“I wish I were there to give you a big hug, sha. I love you more than life and if she makes you happy, I love here too.”

Before we hang up, I remember to tell her that Shel wants a cake.

“Tell him I’ll make sure he gets one before Christmas break. I can’t wait to see you I Vermont for the holidays, my wonderful young man.”

She always soothed my soul when I was a child and I feel it again now because in those big moments of upheaval in life, it’s a true blessing to have my mom, my foundation to rest on. I wish I had my dad, too. A tug of regret and need force me to punch in his number before I lose the will to make things right.

When his phone rings my heart starts thudding fast again and I briefly wonder if all the crazy shit from the last few days is going to give me a heart attack at some point. Then dad answers the phone, his voice booming and, of all things, happy.

“Son, it’s so good to hear from you.” Whatever fears I had for my health, whatever turmoil plagued me the past two days, disappear in a breath and I’m a little boy again, the apple of my dad’s eye, the son he loved and cherished. Maybe I still am.