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“I’d just beat you at those too, and then you’d be a big baby and wet.”
“Darts?”
“Sure. Why not. But I’m getting hangry, so—Oh my God, did you just have a pizza delivered here to the backyard?”
“What’s funny is that you thought pizza would distract me. Pizza just fuels my fire, man.”
“Four bullseyes in a row. I just… I don’t know whether to propose or check you for batteries to see if you’re a robot.”
“Emily, kick ass. Emily, kill human now.”
“Well then, I’ll just throw you in the pool and short-circuit your battery.”
“No, no, no, put me down, Quinn. Don’t you dare throw me in the pool! Okay, fine! I won’t kill you. But I will destroy you with that set of Vipers cornhole boards I saw on the other side of your pool house.”
“Oh, now I know you’re a robot, because that’s just some bullshit I don’t understand coming out of your mouth. Game on!”
“We’re not playing rock-paper-scissors.” Emily laughs, both of us lying on our backs on the loungers by the pool, staring up at the night sky after she kicked my ass three times in cornhole. “You finally got your victory in arm-wrestling. Cheer up. Gimme a V, dot the I, curl the C, cross the T, O-R-Y.” Clap, clap, clap. “Victory!” Clap, clap, clap. “For Baaagley!”
Even with her adorable little cheer, one of many she’s chanted to me throughout the night trying to boost my spirits every damn time I lost to her, I’m still feeling a little salty after the last game.
“Arm wrestling wasn’t even a fair playing field, and now it feels like a gimme. Also, why are you so freakishly strong?”
Emily just laughs and shakes her head at me, both of us staring at a giant swan pool floaty as it goes bobbing by in the water of the in-ground pool a few feet in front of us, with five hula-hoops weighing down its neck. Five hula-hoops she effortlessly tossed around that stupid thing’s neck from twenty feet away while it moved around the pool—compared to my one. I instantly regretted buying all of those hula-hoops for Rachel’s six-year-old daughter the last time the whole family came for a visit.
I’ve jokingly thrown a fit every time she beat me at something else, and I honestly am joking every time I complain. It’s fucking badass being with someone who challenges me and doesn’t give two shits about any hits my ego might take when she can do something better than me. I will admit, the basketball game loss still stings, but watching her bend over to get the ball made everything better.
This entire night with her made everything better.
“What time do you have to be up to watch films?” Emily slowly turns her head toward me on her chair cushion, arms crossed over her chest and legs crossed at her ankles, just like I’m lying in my own chair a foot away.
“In a few hours, according to my drill sergeant who has been texting me with my schedule every half hour.” I chuckle with a roll of my eyes, Emily laughing right along with me when my phone dings with yet another text from Rachel.
Not only has she been helping me pack and trying to help me get my head on straight, but Rachel has been filling in as my assistant, keeping my schedule, and annoying the piss out of me if I’m even thirty seconds late for something. It was pretty hard not to share what Rachel was texting me about, since she kept interrupting every game Emily and I played the last few hours.
“You’re lucky you have a family who supports what you love to do,” Emily tells me.
Without going into too many details with her about the possibility of me switching teams, she let me talk through my current love/hate relationship with football while we played ping-pong. She helped me realize I’ve loved this sport since the day my dad first put a ball in my hands and I really do want to keep playing for as long as my body will allow. And I know without a doubt now that this job I have won’t stop feeling like a job and a chore unless I get away from the egos and find a brotherhood on the field.
“I don’t know where I’d be without my family,” I tell her honestly. “I wish you could let your family know how you feel.”
She brought up her family business—something in the hotel industry, I think she said—during our poker game. The frustration was clear as hell every time she’d smack a card down on the table.
“I think that ship has sailed.” She shrugs with a sad smile on her face that I do not like. “They let me try to follow my dreams for a few years, but I failed, and now I have to face the music. I’ll be fine.”
