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“Okay, good. We need you.” There is a slight commotion in the background, and I hear Saint’s muffled voice. “What are you doing next weekend?”
“Nothing.”
Corwin chuckles. “Want to come over? We can celebrate Troy and Sam.”
“Absolutely, I do. Just let me know what time and I’ll be there.” My phone pings in my ear as a text comes through, and I pull it away from my face to see a message from an unknown number. I’ll check it later. “What are you and Saint up to today?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think we have anything planned…” Corwin trails off. “Uh, well I guess we do have plans. I just don’t know what they are. I don’t like surprises; can you just tell me?”
This last part is directed at Saint, making me laugh. Who could have predicted that Nigel St. James would be so damn good for my friend? “Surprises are fun, Cor. Just roll with it.”
“I can’t justroll with it,” he replies, exasperated. “Who knows what he has in mind. Maybe you should text him and ask and then you can tell me… never mind, he heard me.”
Grinning helplessly, I stare at the ceiling fan rotating in a slow circle above me. “Sorry, buddy. You’re on your own.”
He sighs, gustily. “Well, if you’re around later, you should stop by for dinner. I want to try making cassoulet for Nigel. His grandmother used to cook it for him and his mom shared the recipe with me.”
Only Corwin would sound this excited about cooking dinner. “Thanks. I’ll text you if I head your way, yeah?” I won’t, though. There’s nothing quite like being the single friend in a group of partners, a phenomenon I was still trying to adjust to. It wasn’t that they didn’t include me, because they did; it’s more that I feel like I’m intruding now, where I wasn’t before.
“Great. I’ll make sure to cook enough to send some home with you, too.”
I swear I can feel my heart inflate in my chest at these words;Jesus Christ,I love him.Saint’s voice comes over the line, stronger than it was before.
“Nigel says hi,” Corwin relays, even though I could hear him.
“Hi, Nigel. You guys have fun on your adventure, today.” Corwin sighs again, at the reminder of his dreaded surprise. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Yeah, Enjoy your stretching. But take it easy,” he reminds me.
Still smiling, I hang up and rest the phone on my stomach. It’s several minutes before I remember the text I received while we were chatting. I pull it up, and my smile widens.
Good morning, this is Coach Mackenzie. I figured you should have my number in the event you need to reach me outside of practice. Just a reminder: camp starts at 1100 today and will run until mid-afternoon.
Sitting up, stretching forgotten, I save him in my phone as Nico. Fuck that Coach Mackenzie shit. His text is ridiculously formal, and I have no trouble imaging the glower gracing his face as he typed it. Feeling a little giddy, I text back.
Anthony:Morning, Nico. How’s the head?
Nico:Fine.
Anthony:You hungry? We could grab breakfast before practice.
Nico:No.
I laugh out loud. Naturally, he’s just as much of a dick over text as he is in person. I try not to find it charming.
Anthony:Dinner then, after practice. My treat.
Nico:No.Am I going to regret giving you this number?
Anthony:Probably. What are you wearing?
Nico:I’ll see you at 1100, Anthony. Do not text me unless it’s about COACHING or an EMERGENCY.
The joy that I get from a simple text message conversation with him sort of feels like an emergency. Abandoning the yoga mat, I hop on a treadmill. I’ve got a few hours to kill and I need to come up with dinner plans. I’ve decided Nico Mackenzie has a date, whether he wants one or not.
Nico
I don’t need to have perfect vision to know it’s Anthony striding across the parking lot toward me. Today’s plaid shirt is a vivid royal purple; as he nears, I see that he’s at least wearing athletic clothing underneath, in preparation for practice, though the shirt he paired with the plaid doesn’t match. Naturally.
