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Lance
Shit had gotten real.
After beginning the season with two losses and then winning three games in a row, it had started to feel like we were finally catching our stride. But with a close loss at home against a division opponent and now a loss on the road against a team we definitely should’ve beat, we were suddenly back to square one, that shit frustrating the hell out of me since it wasn’t like I wasn’t doing my part.
That was the thing about football though.
It was truly the ultimate team sport.
So no matter what I did as an individual, no matter how determined I was to make the right play calls as the leader of the defense and then see them through once the ball was snapped, the fact that it took ten other guys being on the same page for that shit to actually work left plenty of room for error; especially towards the end of a game when everybody was already exhausted both physically and mentally.
It was that exact combination that had gotten the best of us in our most recent game at home, the overall fatigue causing us to give up a late, fourth-quarter touchdown with not enough time left on the clock for our offense to really work with. But tonight’s loss against the team out of Cleveland, I honestly didn’t have an explanation for since there was no amount of defending we could’ve done that would’ve kept QB1 from throwing not one, buttwopick sixes.
Yeah, he was back on his bullshit.
Or rather, had never really been off his bullshit but was being saved by the good play of others.
Either way, that shit had gotten so bad tonight that Coach had actually ended up benching him halfway through the fourth quarter, putting Snoop in a tough spot since we were already down three touchdowns by the time he’d entered the game as the backup.
He’d done what he could in making the score respectable by leading the team down the field for two scores. But in the end, it was still a check in the loss column, putting us below .500 on the season and making it mandatory for us to get shit turned around quickly before we fucked around and jeopardized our playoff chances.
I couldn’t let that happen.
But again, it wasn’t all up to me.
And even though I knew that, it still didn’t make it any less annoying as I sat with those thoughts for the entire plane ride back to Houston and then walked into the crib with the same bothered energy; though my mood changed instantly once I found Yani in the living room asleep on the couch in one of my old Skyhawks t-shirts and what looked like nothing underneath.
The definition of effortlessly sexy.
Honestly though, it wasn’t even just about how good she looked that had lifted my spirits, more so just the fact that she was here,comfortably, making use of the space that was starting to feel empty whenever she wasn’t around. And thanks to Mrs. Hayes II, that wasn’t often since Yani very much preferred being at my house over being subjected to her father’s wife getting on her nerves, something I didn’t mind at all since everything was just better with her around.
Eating dinner was more enjoyable with her here to share in conversation.
Watching shows was a lot more fun with her here to yell at the TV with me.
I felt like I slept better with her cold feet tucked between my legs and her body flushed against mine.
And sex was…well, that one was obvious.
Simply put, Yani was the most welcomed guest I’d ever had. And to be real, I wasn’t opposed to making her stay permanent. But since I was confident mentioning that to her would freak her out -even though she was pretty much already doing it- I wasn’t about to press her on it quite yet, instead letting her continue to take things at the pace she was comfortable with since it wasn’t all that far off from what I wanted anyway.
We’d get there soon enough.
But for now, I was just grateful that I had her to come home to on a frustrating night like this as I squatted down so that we were eye level before I gave her a little shake to wake her.
“Yani. Baby, I’m home.”
She was slow to stir, but eventually her eyes began to peel open as she sat up to say, “Hey. Sorry about your game.”
“It is what it is,” I replied with a shrug, anxious to change the subject to something lighter when I gave the hem of the t-shirt she had on a tug and mentioned, “I see you’ve been in my closet again.”
“Actually, this one came from a drawer,” Yani responded with a sleepy grin before quickly covering, “Not like I was snooping through your shit or anything. But after hanging out in the pool for a little bit earlier, I wanted to take a shower before the game came on, only to discover I didn’t have any clothes left, so I just grabbed this.”
Her story made a lot of sense, but it honestly wasn’t even necessary, a point that I was sure to emphasize once I told her, “No explanation needed. What’s mine is yours, especially when you look this good in it.”
Of course, she couldn’t help but smirk at that as she brought her hand to my face, running it down my beard when she said, “I bet you’re tired.”
“Exhausted,” I admitted.
