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“And? It was raining. I lent it to her.”
“And now you’re meeting her for dinner tonight... Please don’t try and tell me it’s nothing because we both know it is. You have been low-key obsessing over this girl since last year. I’m actually kind of proud that you’re finally making a move.”
“There are no moves to be made.” I catch the ball he tosses back with ease.
I knew better than to mention my dinner plans with Rory, but when I told Ryder I wasn’t available for our usual pregame practice, the red flags were immediately raised. Inevermiss the opportunity for an additional practice, especially right before a game. Maybe that should be my own red flag.
It’s not like I intended to ask Rory to dinner. I was just sitting there and the words kind of tumbled out. And then once they were out, I couldn’t bring myself to retract them. Fuck, I try not to ask her for anything because I know every moment I spend with her, the ground beneath me slopes more and more, making it damn near impossible to hold my footing. One wrong step and I’m fucked. One wrong move and I’ll find myself at the bottom of the hill, covered in muck, wondering how the fuck I got there.
“Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you like I know you.”
He sort of has me there. If anyone knows me, and I mean, really knows me, it’s my receivers—the guys I work with day in and day out. I spend more timewiththem than I do away from them.
“So what’s your play?”
“I don’t have a play.” I toss the ball back. “In truth, I’m not entirely sure I thought it all the way through,” I admit, though very little of me actually regrets asking her.
“Well, now that it’s here, you might wanna figure it out.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning you finally asked the girl out...”
“I asked her to dinner,” I correct him as if that’s somehow different than a date.
“Whatever, you still asked her out. Now that you have, it’s time to pony up and decide your next move.”
“I don’t have a first move, let alone a next move.” I catch the ball with one hand before immediately throwing it back.
“You like the girl.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” He gives me a pointed look. “You like the girl,” he states again. “What’s the harm in just seeing where things go?”
“I can’t afford the distraction.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. You are the hardest working person I know. Ain’t no one going to distract you from doing what you love. There is room in your life for more things than just football. You know that, right?”
“What would be the point? Say I fell for the girl, then what? Who knows where I’ll be in a year.”
“That’s true for any relationship. Life can change on a dime. If it’s real, it’ll endure. If it’s not, then it will inevitably end. But there’s only one way to find out and that’s by being willing to take the chance, no matter how much it fucking terrifies you.”
“You talk to me like I’ve never had a girlfriend.” I give him a pointed look.
“Have you?” He snorts, throwing the ball to me unnecessarily hard.
“Yes.” I throw the ball back even harder.
I mean, okay, so no, I haven’t technically had an actual girlfriend since high school. But I’ve dated, for lack of a better word. Taken girls to the movies or dinner. Usually because I intend to fuck them, but that’s beside the point.
“One that lasted longer than a date or two?” He smirks.
“Man, fuck you.”
“Uh-oh.” Higgins appears at my side, his eyes on Ryder. “I heard a fuck you... What did you do this time?” He intercepts the ball Ryder throws to me, running a few feet away with it before slamming it to the ground and breaking into a ridiculous dance.
“Just giving our boy here shit about hisdate.” He says it mockingly.
