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And I miss him.
But he’s noticeably quiet on the chat.
Maybe because he has nothing to say, jackwad. He’s not married, engaged, or in a committed relationship like the rest of these guys.
Nor am I.
When I get on the bus back to New York, I stare at the chat again, wondering when Tanner’s name will pop up on it.
Finally it does. With a rolling eyes emoticon. That’s all. But it feels like a crumb of bread to a starving man.
Not enough.
Just like training camp wasn’t enough to squash all these messy feelings.
29
ONE LAST HURRAH
Luke
A week later, I’m pacing the sidelines on a Friday night at our stadium, watching the clock tick down. We’re ahead by seven, and if we can just hold off the Vegas Pioneers, we’ll get away with our first pre-season win.
A minute later, the defense delivers. I thrust my arms in the air. “That’s how we do it,” I shout, then high-five the defensive line as they come off the field.
It’s just a pre-season game. Technically, it doesn’t matter. But I’d rather win a game than lose it.
We head into the locker room on a victory high.
After I shower and get dressed, my stomach rumbles. It’s late for dinner, but we live in New York, so there’s always something open.
“Anyone up for some chow?” I ask my team as I loop a knot in my tie. Normally I get some takers, but our safety says he wants to head home to the wife and kids, the kicker needs to crash, and our running back has to let his Pomeranian out when he gets home.
Fine, fine. They’re all doing their thing, living their normal lives.
No biggie.
There’s always Cruz. I head over to my closest buddy on the team at his stall, then clap him on the shoulder. “You and me. Some grub. The city. You want Italian, Vietnamese, Chinese? It’s on me.”
Cruz is always up for a meal, and he doesn’t have anyone to go home to. No girlfriend or boyfriend and no pooch.
But he shakes his head. “Dude. Rain check?”
I blink. Cruz has plans? “Um, sure,” I say, confused, since he’s my rock.
He beckons me closer. “I’m seeing Charles and Samantha,” he says.
Wait. What? His auction dates? “Your…threesome?” I ask quietly.
“We’ve been seeing each other. The three of us,” he says, then nods toward the door of the locker room, and I head out with him as he tells me his throuple is getting serious.
I’m flabbergasted. “I thought you were going to get it out of your system before training camp. One last hurrah,” I say, since this does not compute. Cruz banishes all men and women, even hookups during the season.
My bud shrugs sheepishly. “Plans changed. I like them both.”
Huh. He makes it sound so simple. “You’re not shutting it down for the season?” I ask, wanting to make sure I’m getting his new MO.
“I sure hope not,” he says, then his phone buzzes in his hand and he clicks open a message, his face lighting up even more.
As we walk down the corridor, he responds, then turns back to me. “But go pick someone up, like you normally do. You can always pull.”
But that feels wrong.
More so, I don’t want to.
When I reach my building, my heart beats a little faster.
It’s a Pavlovian reaction I haven’t kicked yet. A futile one too, since Tanner isn’t even in town. The Comets are in Miami, playing the Aces till tomorrow night. I checked the schedule. I check it every day in case it changes.
When I step into the elevator, memories smash into me. In a snap, snap, snap of images, I see the night we went out on our respective terrible dates, ribbing each other. Then, a few days later, we made out ferociously in here after mini golf, all frenzied and eager to touch each other for the first time.
There was the night of the concert too with Elsie, when I touched him furtively right there.
I close my eyes for a few seconds so I don’t get lost in those days and nights.
When the elevator reaches my floor, I head down the hall with purpose, trying to leave those memories behind.
But once I open the door and Kickoff is firing death rays from her eyes at me, I can’t keep anything at bay.
I remember the night my cat did that when Tanner came over. The first time he spent the night. The only time he spent the night.
And once is not enough.
I want to share these little moments with him, to kiss him, to watch a show with him, to eat dinner with him. To ask him how he’s doing.
Ask what he needs. Then give it to him.
I shut the door, my heart aching as I feed the demanding cat.
When she stops meowing, my phone buzzes.
Maybe it’s Tanner!
