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"That sounds accurate," he said modestly.
I snorted, but smiled. He was one of the wisest guys I knew.
"Should we go back inside?" I asked. "It's cold out here."
"You go back in," he said, "I need some time to think."
My heart sank. I wished I hadn't made that stupid bet in the first place. I should have known it would be nothing but trouble. After all, people were bound to ask questions about why my dad was suddenly selling the team, if he did. Knowing him, he'd probably tell them the truth.
"Are you sure? You probably shouldn't be alone right now." I wanted to reach out for his hand, pull him to me, drag him off to my hotel room and make love to him all night long.
"I'll be fine. I won't be long. I just need to clear my head." He tucked his hands into his armpits.
"I'm sorry," I said. "It was never meant to be…" I didn't know how to finish that sentence. When I made the bet with Dad, I meant it. I was done with his team, and everything to do with it.
Now, I actually felt like I was a part of something. Something big. Something amazing.
And, typically, in my usual Rubie Thomas style, I'd fucked it up.
"Yeah," he said unconvinced. "I'm sure it wasn't."
"Are you going to tell everyone?" I looked up at him, silently pleading with him not to make this worse than it already was.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, not now. Not until after. In a way, I think they deserve to know. Don't you?"
"Oh, don't know," I said lightly. "Maybe I'm a believer in what I don't know doesn't hurt me." It was how my father lived his life and he was happy at least some of the time.
"I don't believe that for a second. A few hours ago, we were talking about honesty." He cocked his head at me. "Tell me something, would you have told me about the bet? If your father hadn't?"
That was a good question.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I forgot about it until Dad mentioned it. I've had a lot of other things on my mind."
"But you would have remembered it sooner or later," he pressed. "What would you have done then?"
"I don't know," I said again. "It all seems childish now."
"We can agree on that." He pulled a hand out of his pocket and ran it over his forehead. "The guys have bet on dumber things, like who could belch the loudest."
"But knowing I bet against your team stings," I stated. "You think I don't have faith in you?"
"Do you?" he asked.
"Of course I do," I said firmly. "I bet the Rapids will win the Down Under Bowl."I put a hand over my mouth. Between my spread fingers I said, "I'm not making a literal bet. I've learned my lesson."
"You're shivering," he pointed out. "Go back inside. Get warm. I'll be there soon."
"Do you promise?" I asked.
"I'd pinky promise," he said dryly, "but that doesn't seem as cool as it used to, for some reason."
I gave him a questioning look, but he just shook his head.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "Go on; I won't be far behind."
I hated leaving him standing there. Much more than that, I hated the fact that I’d rattled his confidence. When we finally seemed to be on the right track, now we were off on the sidelines, in the stands, under a chair with bubblegum stuck to it.
I made a face at my own thoughts. Reluctantly, I nodded, turned and headed back to the bar.
