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“What happens if he gets drafted somewhere far away?”What happens if I do? And we’re together?
“Oh, I mean . . . he would have to decide, and I think he should go no matter what. But, I have this feeling about him. That boy? He’ll always come home.”
“Todd’s a dumbass!” The twins pass over our knees and a few drops of beer land on my knee. I reach forward and grab spare napkins from the cup holder and blot it dry.
“You’re twins, so odds are if he’s a dumb ass so are you,” Andrew adds, pounding fists with Patrick as the oldest two brothers slide in and take their seats.
The buzzer sounds and my attention flies to the ice where Cutter comes streaming out and glides around the Tiff side, warming his legs and leading his teammates through a few starts and stops. He’s going to get drafted. And he could go to a big market. He’d be a fool to turn that down. But also, he has so much here. I could never ask him to choose me, to pick where I end up. Especially if my career means starting somewhere like Tacoma or Dover, thousands of miles away from the middle of the country, where Cutter’s heart clearly is.
20/
cutter
I’ve been dumpeda few times in my life. Laney likes to call me Campus Hot Boy, but before I got to Tiff, I was more or less CampusNotBoy. There are a few tell-tale signs when someone is trying to dump you.
One, they avoid intimacy, and not just the sex stuff but the entire concept of being alone with someone in the same space. Two, they have a strange and instant personality shift. It’s almost as if the person they were right before they decided to break up was eaten by someone with a super busy calendar, bad hearing, and a super short temper. And three, they are definitely looking for a fight.
Laney and I haven’t been awake and alone since my family left Monday morning. That’s five days ago, well four and a half, I suppose, since it’s noon and Saturday. Since we said goodbye to my mom and brothers after breakfast on Monday, Laney has been the busiest student on Tiff’s campus. I pretty much know her schedule of classes, and I’m not buying that she has three study groups that seem to meet all of a sudden back-to-back-to-back three evenings in a row. And when I called her to compliment her on her away game that I watched via stream on Thursday, she said we had a bad connection and she couldn’thear me. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. But in my gut? I knew something weird was up.
Last night? Last night was the fight. And I walked right into it like an asshole.
I had no idea Laney’s ex proposed. All I cared about was that he was an ex and that all the reasons they broke up seemed like pluses that were in my favor. He didn’t get the drive of athletics. But I do. He wasn’t supportive of her pushing to go pro. I, however, don’t just support it, I expect to be the first one wearing a Laney Price fan jersey. And where he dismissed her demons, I can’t wait to help her conquer them.
Check, check, check!
Winner, Cutter McCreary.
Only, I’m not the winner. I’m on the outs. Hard.
Ivy mentioned the proposal during a round of video games, and Laney and I were battling in a pretty epic battle of video table tennis. I hit pause at the news and then let the stupidest words known to man fall out of my mouth.
“Someone actually wanted to marry you?” I said.
Even Matt gave me the open-mouthed “you’re a dead man” stare.
I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not sure exactly how I meant it. I know what I felt, which was pride that Laney knew herself well enough to walk away before she was in too deep. She could have said yes and dragged the engagement out hoping she’d feel differently down the line. She could have gone through with it and kept the hope going. She could have given up on her path to take his, especially now that I know the pressure her mom put on her.
But she didn’t. She said no. And broke up with the poor lad.
And I’m pretty sure she’s about to break up with me. If we’re even a thing that can be broken. Maybe I’ve been naïve in thinking this was morphing into something real. But she met myfamily, and she kissed me with so much heart, and she wanted me in ways that felt like she needed me to breathe. I didn’t imagine that.
I was letting my frustration and fear control my reaction last night. I said that to her out of knee-jerk hostility, out of frustration for not getting to have the alone time I was desperate for to tell her how I felt. I lashed out, and she fought back with a vengeance.
In a matter of minutes, I went from being a nice guy to the same selfish jock who must only be out for a good time that she thought I was a month ago. She threw her game controller down when she was done then went to bed. And I let her.
I should have begged her to tell me what was really going on last night, but I didn’t. Because I was afraid of what she might say. But now that I’m sitting here in the kitchen across from her while she chops vegetables violently and slides them into a pan with an incredibly sharp knife, I’m painfully aware that I missed my moment. And now, all I’m doing is putting things off.
“Well, I guess I may as well be the first to talk. And I guess this is going down in front of you two,” I say, pushing in my stool and gesturing to Matt and Ivy.
Laney’s making stir-fry because Ivy was craving it. She has a game in a few hours and totally doesn’t have time for this, but it seems that speed cooking is higher on her list than being on her own with me. She even convinced Ivy to let her borrow her truck rather than let me drive her to campus.
“What’s going down?” Matt, sweet clueless Matt, sits up tall like a kid waiting to find out he’s going to Disneyland. Ivy, however, seems more in tune with the vibe in the room. She sets her phone flat on the table and rests her face in one palm.
“Just Cutter apologizing for being an asshole,” Laney says, her voice clipped to match the chop-chop-chop with her death knife.
“That’s right. Again, I am apologizing for being an asshole. I misspoke. I was in a bad mood. I took it out on you and said something stupid. And I didn’t mean it. Or hell, maybe I meant it. But only because I’m so confused and want to know what all of this . . .” I whirl my finger around in a circle. “Is about. Tell me Laney. Just break it down and tell me. Why am I back in the dirt, mud on your shoes? What happened between Monday morning and the afternoon that changed the way you looked at me? I don’t understand.”
Laney keeps chopping and her best friend glances between the two of us. Matt reaches for his phone, and I point at it, and yell, “Stop!”
