Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
TYLER
Practically rubbing my hands together with glee, I flop down on my couch, picking up my phone and hitting the VibeCheck app.
I click into the message thread I started yesterday with the woman I can’t stop thinking about and wonder briefly whether it’s weird that for the last almost twenty-four hours, my brain has been hyper fixated on someone I’ve never actually met and haven’t seen a picture of.
Maybe.
Probably.
But there was something about that conversation that just got me. I can’t quite figure it out, but I’m a flexible sort of guy so I’m rolling with it. With a grin on my face, I poise my thumbs over the screen and start typing.
RenegadeRush
Hey there, ChaosQueen. It’s a brand-new day, and it’s my turn to ask the first question.
When the message indicator switches to read and the dots start bouncing immediately, telling me she’s typing a reply, my grin widens, my knee bouncing with anticipation.
ChaosQueen
Let’s see if you can top the penny question. I dare you to try.
RenegadeRush
You doubt me?
ChaosQueen
You’re not the only competitive one in this conversation.
RenegadeRush
Well, prepare to be trounced.
What’s one job you’re unqualified for but are positive you could do anyway?
ChaosQueen
Shit, that’s a good one.
RenegadeRush
I’m a non-asshole, so I’ll refrain from saying I told you so.
ChaosQueen
Your restraint is noted and appreciated.
So, how much do you know about nail polish?
RenegadeRush
More than you might think. I grew up with sisters, and I’ve been known to paint my nails a time or two.
Or before every single game of my football season.
The weekly pre-game manicure my youngest sister gives me is so epic and well known I’ve been offered sponsorship deals with nail polish brands, massive marketing campaigns, and my very own nail polish line with complete creative control.
I’ve turned down every single one, much to my agent’s dismay.
It’s my special thing with Lilah, and I have no interest in monetizing that part of my life.
ChaosQueen
Okay, so then you might know that nail polish colors have weird names.
RenegadeRush
Once I let someone paint my nails in a shade called Pants Optional.
ChaosQueen
Was it red? I feel like Pants Optional would have to be a sexy red.
RenegadeRush
It was the sexiest red. My nails were fire.
ChaosQueen
So that’s the job I’m positive I would be good at.
RenegadeRush
Guessing nail polish colors?
ChaosQueen
Nah dude, naming nail polish colors.
I’m total chaos, and my brain runs on twelve different tracks at all times. I love all things color, and I kill at a good pun. I am absolutely sure I would be excellent at naming nail polish colors.
RenegadeRush
That is a fantastic answer. So now I know you’re definitely not a nail polish namer. Do I get to know what you actually do?
ChaosQueen
Nah, too personal. Anyway, it’s my turn to ask a question.
RenegadeRush
I can’t wait.
ChaosQueen
What’s your most irrational fear?
That everyone will realize I’m not always as happy as I seem.
I suck in a breath as the answer pops into my head so fast I almost rear back at the force of it.
If I had thought about it for two more seconds, I would probably have said my most irrational fear is letting down my team.
It’s irrational because it’s never happened before—I work fucking hard to make sure it doesn’t—but it could happen, which makes it terrifying.
It turns out, though, in the hierarchy of my fears, people realizing I’m not always Tyler Hansley, happiest guy on the block, comes first. Although I’m not sure how irrational that fear is.
Because who wants a starting quarterback who spends twenty minutes in the bathroom before every game deep breathing, shaky, and sweaty?
Nobody, that’s who.
But I don’t think that’s the kind of answer my chaos girl is looking for. At least, not yet.
That’s more of a third date answer.
RenegadeRush
Being framed for murder.
ChaosQueen
Well now I’m not so sure that’s an irrational fear. In the United States, between 1 and 5% of criminal convictions are actually wrongful convictions. In the murder context, it leans towards the higher end of that range.
RenegadeRush
How do you know that?
ChaosQueen
I know a lot of random facts.
RenegadeRush
Okay, well I used to be low-key worried about it. I am now extremely worried about it. Can I count on you to be my alibi?
ChaosQueen
How would that work, exactly?
RenegadeRush
Maybe I text you every morning with my schedule so you know where I am at any given time. If I’m ever framed for murder, you could turn our messages over to the police as proof I didn’t do what they’re accusing me of.
ChaosQueen
I’m not a lawyer, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t hold up in court.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this man couldn’t possibly have committed murder because he told a stranger on the internet whose real name he doesn’t even know that he wasn’t at the location of the crime.”
RenegadeRush
Fuck, you’re right.
Okay, new plan. We learn each other’s names and meet in person. That makes it far more likely you could serve as a solid alibi.
ChaosQueen
Hard pass, football guy.
RenegadeRush
Can’t blame a guy for trying.
Will you at least come visit me in prison? I won’t be able to text because they confiscate phones, and I would be total shit at doing whatever one must do to get a contraband phone in the slammer.
ChaosQueen
I think that really depends.
RenegadeRush
On what?
ChaosQueen
On how good your question is tomorrow.
“Ty, where the fuck are you?” My front door opens and closes, and my cousin Jack Parker’s voice filters down the hall.
“Living room!” I yell.
“You ready to go?” I glance up as Jack strolls into my living room, followed by Cam and Drew.
“Two minutes,” I say without looking up from my screen.
RenegadeRush
I promise it will be the best question to ever question.
ChaosQueen
Setting expectations pretty high there, aren’t you?
RenegadeRush
They’re not high if I’m positive I’ll meet them.
ChaosQueen
That’s some serious confidence. Confidence is sexy…if you can back it up.
RenegadeRush
Well of course I can back it up. I’m sexy as fuck.
I have to run…some friends came over. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, chaos girl. Think of me.
ChaosQueen
I will maybe give you a passing thought. Potentially two, but it’ll be a game time decision.
RenegadeRush
If you’re even thinking of me once, I’m a happy guy.
“Earth to Tyler! Are you on this planet right now?”
I click off my phone and glance up at Drew standing in front of me, arms crossed, scowl on his face. “Keep your damn pants on. I was having a conversation.”
“A conversation that makes you blush and smile like a lunatic?”
Jack smirks and drops down onto the couch next to me.
His dad, Ben, and my mom are twins, and he and his twin sister, Caitlin, are not only my cousins, but also my best friends.
Jack, Maddy’s brother Oliver, and I are the male wing of our little friend group, and Caitlin, Sophie, Maddy, Maddy’s best friend Maya, Caitlin and Jack’s cousin Sarah Wyles, and Sarah’s cousin Emmy Wyles are our own personal girl gang.
Since I started with the Renegades, Drew and Cam have basically become my brothers, and now that Cam and Maddy are in Capital L Love, Cam is around a lot more, which means Drew is too.
All the people I love hanging out together makes me unreasonably happy.
Except for right now, I kind of wish the guys were anywhere but here so I could keep texting. I was extremely not ready to stop.
I elbow Jack in the ribs. “Fuck off, I’m not blushing. I’m just texting.”
“Uh huh,” he says, kicking his feet up on my coffee table. “Who are you texting?”
“Sophie,” I say quickly. Too quickly, probably.
Cam drops down into the chair across from the couch, making a sound like a game show buzzer. “Nice try, pal. Sophie, Maddy, and the rest of the girls are having margaritas at Fireside before the game, and everyone knows they go no contact for margarita nights. So, who were you actually talking to?”
Fuck.
I do know they go no contact when they’re drinking margs at Fireside, the Strip District bar Jack’s dad, Ben, and Maddy’s dad, Jeremy, opened a million years ago and Jack now runs.
I also knew they were planning on pre-gaming Maddy’s brother Oliver’s hockey game that we’re all going to tonight.
He’s a center for the Pittsburgh Lightning, just like his dad was.
We bond over the whole professional athlete, sons of former professional athletes thing.
I blow out a breath, tossing my phone on the coffee table. “I kind of…met someone.”
“No way!” Jack’s face splits with a wide grin.
“Who is she?” A carbon copy of his dad, Jack really is the best of us.
The wholesome, born and bred Pittsburgh boy, thrilled to settle into the city where he grew up and run the family business and probably raise a brood of kids one day right down the street from his childhood home.
My dreams aren’t that much different than his.
I have no interest in playing for any team other than the Renegades, the team where my dad spent his entire career.
And ever since the Super Bowl, I’ve been thinking more and more about settling down.
But while other people might call me wholesome, I know better than that.
People with brains that like to spin out without any notice and who spend their days wondering when the anxiety humming beneath their skin will surface and totally wreck the moment are not the wholesome type.
“She’s…no one,” I say quickly. Even though the two text conversations I’ve had with her are more fun than I’ve had with anyone other than for Sophie in a long, long time, and I think she might really be someone.
Too soon, I know, but I am who I am.