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I remember chuckling and agreeing with him, returning home to my empty apartment and my empty life.Yeah, I have a lot of parties, I think while walking toward the bench, hearing the boos of fans surrounding me.If only someone can pull me out of this.I dump my body on the bench, ignoring the scowl from my coach and the shouts from fans.
“You suck!” I hear one.
I close my eyes and push it all away. I’ve been playing like shit ever since I fell off the wagon and today has been the worst. I think I drank too much this morning. The red and navy blue jerseys of the Patriots are blending into the navy blue of the Bears. Never mind we aren’t even wearing our navy blue jerseys. We’re wearing bright orange. It shouldn’t be that hard to pass and catch. I keep fumbling everything, including my own life.
I was supposed to video chat with Rachel last week and I missed it to go drinking with fucking Brody. Brody of all people! I completely forgot about Rachel and, of course, I had no excuse to give her. How can I tell her that I missed our date in order to go drinking? She would never forgive me. I don’t even forgive myself. And Dr. Forrester keeps messaging and calling me. I have no clue what to tell her. I don’t understand why she doesn’t just give up on me. It’s so clear I’m not doing well. Why does she care?
No. Why can’t I talk to her? Why can’t I ask for help? I was doing it before. I was completely fine until I moved here. I grimace while looking around at the stadium, at the fans cheering, at my coach, no longer paying attention to me. Adrien catches the ball and is sprinting down the field toward touchdown. Everyone is screaming. That should be me up there, yet I’m here, sitting on the bench like a loser, thinking about my next drink.
Tonight will be my last time,I tell myself as Adrien slams the ball onto the grass. The stadium grows louder with cheers and I stand, clapping my hands, knowing if I don’t, people will give me weird looks. Even as I tell myself tonight will be my last drink, I know it’s not. I know there will be tomorrow, and the day after that, and the week after that. I’m already off the wagon and I can’t see myself ever having the strength to get back on. I’ve already fucked everything up. There’s no help for someone like me.
After the game, I trudge down to the lockers. We lost. But at least Adrien was able to score a touchdown, so it wasn’t that bad. All I want to do is go back home and curl up with a bottle of rum.
“What the hell was that?” Adrien asks as soon as I open my locker door. He’s scowling at me with his hands on his hips.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, still feeling like shit.
“I’m sorry?” Adrien shouts. “That’s all you have to say? I’m sorry? You threw the fucking ball directly to our opposition and then you got sacked not one, not two, but three times.” He holds up three fingers, wagging them at me. “Are you sick? Is that what’s up?”
“Yeah!” Brody laughs. “He does look like shit. You have a tummy ache, Hunter?”
Mark rolls his eyes. “He’s hungover. Look at him.”
I wince and turn away from my teammates while keeping my mouth clamped shut, not wanting them to know the truth. I’m sure if Adrien gets close enough he’ll be able to smell the booze on my breath.
“Hunter, is everything okay?” Adrien asks, leaning in close.
I jump away from him, not wanting him to smell the stench on me. “I’m fine,” I run out. “I’m just feeling a little off, is all.”
“Well, I hope you’re not feeling too off to go out tonight,” says Brody while slamming his locker door shut.
Brody is wearing only a towel around his waist. His muscles are pulled taut and glistening in sweat. I don’t know how he’s able to look the way he does and drink so much. There are no bags under his eyes. His complexion isn’t ashen and his face is clean-shaven. Whereas I look like a homeless man who has walked off the street. I’m trying to remember the last time I shaved. It’s been at least two weeks, if not longer.
“I-I don’t know,” I say, my hand tightening on my locker door. I need to return to my hotel and do something with my life that doesn’t involve drinking, like call Rachel. However, if I go out with Brody, maybe I will drink less, since I won’t be drinking by myself. It may actually be better for me than drinking alone in my hotel room.
“Oh, come on!” Brody shouts. “It’ll be fun.”
“He said—” Adrien begins, but stops when I say, “Fine. Only for a couple hours.”
Adrien gives me a look as if I’ve lost my mind while Brody nods in approval.
“All right, Hunter!” Mark shouts while clapping me on the back. “Bros night it is.”
I turn around and grab my towel from my locker, trying very hard to ignore Adrien’s concerned look.Adrien is not my dad, I tell myself.Nor is he my knight in shining armor. I’m a big boy. I can make my own decisions.
***
“Patriots suck!” shouts Brody while sticking his head out the window of our black SUV. Mark shouts from the other side of me while Jerry, sitting in the front, chugs a bottle of tequila before passing it to me. I take a long swig, longer than I should, and I don’t pass the bottle back. If I’m going to hang out with Brody and his gang of idiots, I’m going to need to be wasted.
Brody leans back in his seat, swiftly taking my bottle and taking a long drink. He looks at me as he does it, as if he can see right through me. “You’re in for a treat,” he slurs with a lazy smile.
Mark laughs and grabs the bottle from Brody’s hands. Jeremy turns in his seat so he’s facing us. He isn’t wearing a seat belt, which makes my fingers twitch, wanting to buckle it for him, but I stop myself, knowing the moment I make mention of it I’m going to be teased nonstop.
“Where are we going?” I ask while looking around at the group of men.
This will be my second time out with Brody, well, third if I include Adrien’s barbecue, and though the times before weren’t the most enjoyable, it does beat drinking alone. The last time we went out, Brody took me to an underground club that played electronic music. It wasn’t really my thing, but the shots were cheap and I didn’t have to talk to anyone.
Jeremy waggles his eyebrows at me while Mark chuckles. Brody leans over, his breath reeking as he whispers in my ear, “To Heaven.”
