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Eli
Practice for the rest of the week went a lot better. There was no need to call Marshall back out onto the field to show me up. My friends were all proud of me, and we were all in sync once more. It felt good. I felt good. Jackson mentioned a Halloween party, and while I agreed to go, I was starting to have second thoughts. Maybe I needed to cut back on the partying.
I need to get serious and focus on football and nothing else. Get through the season with a clear head and a clean—and impressive—record. Even though I told everyone I was going to the Halloween party, I was starting to consider backing out without telling anyone.
Not because of Ava, but because of me. I wanted to help myself. Fix myself. Once I’m fixed, then I can repair my broken relationships, right?
But then Jackson had to call and tell me who else was coming to the party.
“You will never fucking believe it,” he says to me, like it’s some big surprise.
“Who?”
It’s Thursday night and I’m kicking it in my room after taking a shower. I’m exhausted, ready to crash, but Jackson texted me asking if I could talk.
“Brenden.”
I sit up in bed. “You mean Brenden, my old best friend, Brenden?”
We were close since freshman year, but then things kind of got weird thanks to his girlfriend at the time, and then I got closer to Jackson, which I think made Brenden jealous. We even got into a fight. Verbal and physical. God, we were stupid back then.
We made up, but our friendship was never really the same. He spent all of his time with that chick, and I was spending every free moment I had with Ava.
We graduated; Brenden went to college up north and I went to Fresno State. We ran into each other once, about a year out of high school. We still follow each other on Instagram, but he doesn’t post much.
“Yep, that Brenden. Weirdest thing. I stopped at the Dollar General
to buy some Muddy Buddies or whatever the fuck they’re called for Ellie, because she’s craving that shit constantly lately, and I ran into him while I was wandering the aisles,” Jackson explains. “We got to talking and he said he’d dropped out of college and came home to help his mom out. I guess his parents got a divorce or some shit. I don’t know. Anyway, I mentioned the party to him and he said he’d be down and I told him you would be there.”
“No shit.” I’m silent for a moment. “What the fuck are Muddy Buddies?”
Jackson laughs. “I’ll send you a pic of the bag. Ellie says they’re delicious. Anyway, you have to go to the party since your friend will be there. You two haven’t seen each other in years.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m down. I’d love to see Brenden,” I say, meaning every word. I’ll get to spend time with my old high school friend.
I’m actually looking forward to it.
Jackson blows out an exaggerated breath. “All right. Cool. I’m glad you’re going.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I think about running into Ava at the party. Will she talk to me? Listen to me? Or will she ignore me?
She’d break my heart if she ignored me.
Damn it, I want Ava. I want her to be mine again.
“I’m already at the house so whenever you can, come over. Oh, and it’s a costume party,” he adds.
“I’m not wearing a costume,” I say firmly.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Not in the mood for fun.” If that isn’t the truth, I don’t know what is. Lighthearted fun is not in my plans for the foreseeable future.
“You need some, my friend. Whether you realize it or not,” Jackson says, his voice lowering. I hear a door opening in the background, and then it’s quietly shut.
“The night before a big game? I can’t get too shit-faced.” We don’t have a strict no drinking policy for the team, but our coaches all frown upon it. They know we’ll be up to no good and sneaking it if they flat-out banned alcohol, but they always give us little speeches about “thinking smart” and “not fucking up our chances with a few extra drinks the night before.”
