18. Guys’ Night
18
Guys’ Night
Anton
T J steps in front of me and holds up his hand. “Dude, would you stop pacing? You’re making me nervous.”
“Actually, it’s proven that pacing helps the brain process and sort information,” Poe pipes up from the kitchen where he’s putting together a snack board. The man’s charcuterie is the stuff of legends.
“Which begs the question…” Del sets down his bottle of water on the coffee table and holds his arms out to the side. “What needs so much processing that you’re wearing a hole in Poe’s hardwood floors?”
I sink down into an overstuffed chair and bury my head in my hands.
We’re all gathered at Poe’s place for our weekly guys’ night. We rotate houses during the season, but every week, we get together on Friday night. It’s a good way to keep focused ahead of game day. Saturday nights, we’re all together at the team hotel and in bed early anyway, but Friday nights, there’s the temptation to burn off some steam after a long week. Going out on the town, drinking, and staying out late would not help the team’s cause on Sunday, even with a day in between to recover. So, Friday night guys’ nights became a thing.
“Yeah, come on, man. Are you finally going to tell us what’s really going on between you and Rose?” TJ grabs the football Poe has sitting in the corner and starts tossing it to himself .
Poe walks into the room and sets down a platter of food on the coffee table before snatching the ball out of midair and taking it away from TJ.
“Hey!”
“I just got that new vase.” Poe points to the table inside his front door. “It’s a legit antique.”
“You don’t trust these hands?” TJ holds up his palms, flipping them back and forth.
Poe holds the ball out and points the tip at TJ. “On the field? Sure. But around my vase? Nope. No offense.”
“I am completely offended. I have great hands.”
“Shut it, you two. I want to hear what’s going on with Bates.” Del stares me down.
I sigh. “Rose will be here any minute.”
“That’s exactly why you need to tell us what’s the deal with you two…so we don’t do anything to embarrass you.” Del bats his eyes at me, and I narrow my gaze back.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Not intentionally, but how are we supposed to know?”
“I’m guessing I shouldn’t hit on her.” TJ sounds nonchalant, and I know he’s messing with me, but every muscle in my body clenches involuntarily at the thought.
TJ chuckles. “I’ll take that as a sign to keep my hands…my perfectly capable hands”—he scowls at Poe—“off.”
My blood pressure has now skyrocketed from thinking of anyone’s hands near or on Rose. I stand and start pacing again.
“Dude. Relax. We’ll be cool.” Del reaches forward and pops a grape into his mouth.
“We’re always cool,” Poe agrees. “We’re here to make you look good.”
“Like on the field,” TJ adds.
“So, tell us what’s going on so we can help,” Del finishes.
“Fine.” I sit back down and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. The guys crowd around, and I feel like I should have some sort of white board or something. It’s like I’m drawing up a play in the huddle, when in actuality, I’m outlining the greatest love and loss of my life.
Not to be dramatic or anything.
“I loved Rose once. She broke my heart. Having her come back into my life has made me realize that my feelings for her never went away. But I don’t know where she stands, and I don’t want to put myself out there if she’s going to trample on my heart again. It’s a complicated mess, and I don’t need y’all making it weird.”
TJ lets out a whistle. “So, this is your second chance at love…if you want it. But you’re not sure that you want it?”
“Basically. Mostly, I’m not sure if she wants me .”
TJ rubs his hands together. “It’s easy, then.”
“What is?” I frown.
“Use your time together to figure her out. You can start tonight.”
I glance around the room. Poe is nodding slowly, like he’s tracking what TJ is saying. I don’t follow at all, and I narrow my gaze at Del. “Dude, are you crying?”
Del blinks at me with watery eyes. “I really like the two of you together. I want this to work out.”
“For crying out loud, Del.”
“Literally.” He sniffles.
“Focus.” TJ claps his hands. “Let me tell you how this is going to go down.”
I lean forward. “I’m listening.”
“Tonight, when she gets here, you’re going to act like you’re on a date with her.”
I scowl. “This isn’t really a date-like atmosphere with you goons along for the ride.”
“We’re your wingmen.” Poe puffs his chest up. “Good thing I planned the perfect activity for us.” He glances around the room. “Just need to call in a reinforcement. ”
“What?” I frown. I don’t want anyone else witnessing my attempts to rekindle the fire with Rose. “Why?”
“We need an even number,” Poe says cryptically as he taps out a message on his phone.
I roll my eyes. This is a train wreck. I love these guys, but they are incapable of not making a huge deal out of all the things. It’s how we are with each other. I know it’s because they care, but right now, I’d love for them to turn it down several notches.
“Can you play it cool when she gets here?” I try to put the brakes on the runaway train. “What are we even doing tonight? Tell me it’s something normal.”
Poe huffs and looks offended. “Normal is subjective. Normal is no fun. Normal is heartbreaking.”
“Dude. That’s deep.” Del looks impressed.
A knock on the door echoes through Poe’s condo.
“That’s her. Would everyone act natural? Don’t say anything about my feelings for her.” I stand and point at them. “And don’t embarrass me.”
“Aye-aye, 4!” TJ jumps up from his chair and turns toward the door. His eyes are wide, and he looks like an overeager golden retriever puppy. There’s no way he’s going to play it cool. I’m in for an absolute circus tonight. I can feel it.
“I’ll get it. It’s my house.” Poe cuts me off on the way to the door.
Del joins the rest of us. “She knows me. I should be the one to welcome her.”
“We can’t all get the door.” I’m trying to use my body to block out my teammates. “We’ll look ridiculous. I should be the one to greet her. She’s writing the article about me.”
“And you’re in loooove with her.” TJ wiggles his shoulders.
“None of that!” I hiss. “I’m not in lo—”
Another knock sounds, cutting me off mid-lie.
TJ ducks under my outstretched hands and makes a break for it. Del wraps his arms around my stomach and lifts me off the ground .
“Durgen, put me down!”
Poe scoots around us and gets to the door as TJ is swinging it open.
Rose stands on the other side, looking like an absolute athleisure vision in black leggings and an oversized fleece zip up. Her eyes go wide at the sight of us. I imagine the scene from her perspective: four, two-hundred-plus pound football players crammed in the foyer of a condo, one being hoisted off the ground by another, and two looking at her with their tongues practically hanging out of their mouths.
“Uh, hi? Do I need to give you two a moment?” She gestures to where Del is still holding me in his arms.
I push off of him, and he sets me down. He’s grinning.
“Good to see you again, girlie!” He steps forward and wraps Rose in his arms, lifting her up.
Jealousy lances through me, even though I know Del’s feelings for Rose are like that of a sibling. What I wouldn’t give to wrap my arms around her and hold her that close.
She’s smiling as he sets her down, and I need to remember to thank him later. Because for as over the top as his greeting is, it has totally put her at ease. The lines on her face have fallen away, and her eyes are sparkling with good humor.
“This is quite the welcome,” she quips. “Thanks for having me.”
She holds out a slim, wrapped package and hands it to Poe.
“What’s this? You didn’t have to get me anything.”
Rose waves him off. “You’re letting me into your home and allowing me to crash your guys’ night. It’s the least I can do.” She digs into the bag at her side. “And here.” She hands out packages to each of us before slipping out of her winter coat. “I didn’t want any of you to feel left out.”
TJ greedily rips into his. Del reverently unfolds the wrapping paper. I’m the last to retrieve my gift from her, and when I do, our fingers brush. Her gaze darts to mine, and I offer her a tentative smile .
I don’t know where we stand since I shared my list of things about her. Maybe she thinks it’s creepy. Maybe she thinks it’s pathetic that I had a list at all. It was buried deep in the archives of my phone, but I never could bring myself to get rid of it.
“This is the coolest.” Poe holds up his opened gift. It’s a butterfly. A dead one. But it’s in a clear case, and its wings are fanned out and pinned back. There’s some sort of write-up on one side of it. It’s very Poe-ish.
“Anton mentioned that you like butterflies, so I took a chance.” Rose looks suddenly shy.
“I love it! It’s going to go right here.” Poe sets it next to his vintage vase. “No tossing the ball around here, you got that, Teej?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Look at this!” TJ pulls out a Super Mario Bros. figurine. “Yoshi. My favorite—and the best player, obviously.”
I gape at Rose. “How did you know that?”
“He mentioned it in the weight room.” She shrugs.
My jaw is hanging on the floor. How did she manage to find gifts for my friends—specific, perfect gifts—with minimal notice?
Del lets out a laugh. He holds up a Christmas tree ornament that’s a pair of cowboy boots, spinning it around to see it from all angles.
“To remind you of the first night you met me.” Rose bats her eyelashes in an overdone way.
She’s teasing, but I’m immediately transported to the bar, and the peanuts, and the seamless conversation, and the Garth Brooks, and nicknaming her Sammy Rose. On top of all those old memories, I’d like to think we’re making new ones—jumping in the frozen Bay of Green Bay, dancing in California. Here, tonight.
My breath hitches with anticipation about what’s going to come. It could be a disaster. It has been before. But I can’t live in fear of that. I want to go all in with Rose. Past Rose and present Rose and future Rose. I want them all.
If only I knew she wanted the same .
She’s staring at me as I delicately lift the tissue paper out of the small gift bag she brought for me. Inside is a little notebook. There’s a hand-drawn cover, and I can’t help but grin the second I see what she’s written—also, because no one else got a homemade gift.
“How the Mosquito Wins the Day,” I read. “A true story, written and illustrated by Rose Kasper. I love this.”
She exhales when I smile at her, almost as if she was afraid I wouldn’t like it. I flip though the notebook to see she’s written an elaborate and rhyming poem all about how a mosquito’s persistence helps her win her ultimate prize and sink her teeth into just the thing she’s always wanted. It’s cheeky and self-deprecating and adorable.
And I’ve never wanted to be bitten by a mosquito more in my life.