Chapter 16
I Could Go for Some Shrimp Scampi
Connor
Iwait outside the women’s locker room for nearly forty minutes after practice, but Maisie never shows. Worried, I pull out my phone to text her.
You solving world hunger in there or something?
Betty: I already left, sorry, figured you’d be busy after practice anyway.
That stings, considering the whole reason I came to practice was to watch her, but I type back.
Oh, well I didn’t know if you wanted to talk some more, since we kind of got cut off by practice
Betty: I’m good, thanks.
Okay..are you hungry? Was thinking we could grab Antonio’s for dinner?
Betty: I think I’m just gonna heat something up in my microwave at home
Why is she acting weird? Why is she pushing me away?
Alright, well, I’ll text you tomorrow, Betty. Have a good rest of your night
I’m worried about what I did to cause this shift in her demeanor, but I know there isn’t really anything to do about it right now if she doesn’t want to see or talk to me.
She’s probably tired after a hard practice.
If Coach Megan’s reaction was any indication, some of her dives weren’t going well.
I thought she did great, of course, but what do I know?
I pull up the text thread with my roommates to see if anyone else is up for Antonio’s.
Swim-ply the Best Roomies
Anyone up for Antonio’s? I could go for some shrimp scampi
Brock: I’m down. I need the carbs after that practice. Where the hell were you today, bro? Coach had us doing the bamboo stick drill. My shoulders are gonna be stiff for a week
Hunter: I’m in. I’m starving. And didn’t you see him in the stands?
Tyler: Sure, I’ll meet you guys there
Tyler always drives separately in case he feels like leaving at a different time than the rest of us.
Brock: In the stands? What were you doing there?
I’ll catch you guys up at dinner
Brock: Sounds ominous, but alright. Meet you guys at the house and we’ll head over
Hunter: I’m driving. I don’t trust you after last time Brock
Brock: What did I do??
Hunter: The fact that you’re asking that says everything
*Tyler adds double exclamation marks to Hunter’s text
Brock: What’re you all ganging up on me for? I got out of that ticket with my top-notch flirting ;)
Yea, after you purposefully ran a red light because you said it only counts if you don’t get caught. Well…ya got caught buddy
Brock: Doesn’t count since I didn’t get a ticket. That police chick was hot too. Sad she wouldn’t give me her number though. Would have liked to see what she had going on under the uniform too if ya know what I mean
Hunter: We know what you mean dipshit. Stop talking about women like this. You’re better than that
Brock: Debatable
*Tyler adds double exclamation marks to Brock’s text
Brock, shut up. Hunter, you’re driving. See you idiots soon
We all slide in around a half-circular booth table.
Antonio’s is the best Italian restaurant in town.
Luckily, it also has college student–friendly prices and large serving sizes.
Our waitress is setting our waters on the table when Brock blatantly checks her out.
She scrunches her turned-up nose in distaste but pulls out her pen and order pad.
“You boys know what you’d like?” She looks no more than five years older than us.
“I’d like to say you look damn fine today,” Brock says with a wink, side-stepping the poor waitress’s question to interject his cringy play on words. “What time do you get off?”
I palm my face. Why is he like this?
She smiles sarcastically before saying, “What are you, fourteen? Now order some food, or I’ll just bring you whatever has been sitting out the longest and charge you double for it.”
He has the good sense to look embarrassed. “I’ll have the spaghetti with meatballs, thanks,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes averted.
“Shrimp scampi for me,” I add.
“Make that two,” Hunter says next.
“Three please,” Tyler says quietly, finishing out our table’s order.
“Got it. I’ll bring breadsticks in a minute.” She shoots a glare at Brock, then stalks off toward the kitchen.
“Swing and a miss,” Brock says playfully, miming the action of hitting a baseball, apparently already bounced back from the sting of her rejection. Must not have cared too much.
“She’s working, dipshit. You don’t hit on her when she literally has to serve you. Treat her with some respect,” Hunter chastises him.
Hunter’s moms both work in women’s healthcare. One is an OB-GYN and the other works as a women’s mental health counselor specializing in domestic violence cases. Needless to say, they made sure their boy knew how to respect women from a young age and to speak up when other men didn’t.
Brock rolls his eyes but shifts uncomfortably, like the words landed their blow. Then he says, “So tell us what happened, C-Dawg. Why weren’t you suffering with the rest of us at practice today?”
“Well, I—kind of…punched Maisie’s ex-boyfriend.”
Three pairs of eyes swing to me.
“What do you mean ‘kind of’?” Hunter asks tentatively.
“Well, not kind of. I did. In a hallway at Liberty Science Center.”
“Why?” Tyler interjects.
“He said he dumped Maisie—which was a lie, by the way. She dumped him. He was saying some vile shit about her to his friends. Next thing I knew, I was hitting him. Couldn’t seem to help myself.”
The three of them exchange worried glances.
“You have some pretty strong feelings for her, huh?” Hunter questions gently.
“That’s…an understatement, but I’ve resigned myself to being her friend only.”
“Well, now that she doesn’t have a boyfriend, maybe you can be friends who fuck? Let some of that pent-up energy out,” Brock adds, waggling his eyebrows.
Hunter punches his arm.
“Ow! I was kidding, man.” He rubs the spot that was hit.
Hunter ignores him.
“I think you should talk to her and tell her how you feel,” Tyler says.
Our waitress drops the basket of breadsticks unceremoniously on our table and walks away as quickly as she came.
I reach for a breadstick as I say, “I want to. Before, I didn’t want to say anything because I knew she had Karsen, and saying anything would only fuck up our friendship, but now…
I don’t know. She was acting strange today, pushing me away.
I’m not sure she is interested in anything other than friendship with me, and I’m scared that if I push, I won’t have anything with her. ”
“Hmm…” Hunter rubs at the scruff on his chin. “What if you tell her you have a date and see how she reacts?”
Brock lifts both hands in the air dramatically. “And that’s treating a woman with respect?” he asks incredulously.
“I didn’t say it was my best feminist idea, only that it would garner some information,” Hunter claps back.
Brock huffs and digs into the basket for his own breadstick.
“It’s not the worst idea,” Tyler chimes in. “It’s not like you actually have to go on a date with someone else if you don’t want to, and if she doesn’t react, maybe you can start to move on.”
I know in my soul there wouldn’t be any moving on, but I let them keep talking.
We switch gears to talk more about the practice I missed—how my suspension will affect our relay team, and what if I took my situation to the athletic director?
We then move on to how Hunter is struggling in German, and how Brock was going to head to Veronica’s party after this.
Tyler leaves as soon as he scarfs down his food. The three of us who remain linger a while longer before paying and leaving. I’m sure the waitress is happy to see us go. At Hunter’s behest, Brock leaves extra money for a tip and a note apologizing.
Hunter and I drop Brock off at his party and head back to the apartment. We play a few rounds of his latest video game before going our separate ways.
I’m lying in bed, exhausted, but I pull up my text thread with Maisie and re-read our last conversation. The pang of worry jolts through my chest again. Everything will be fine tomorrow.
I fall asleep humming Frankie Valli.