Chapter Eleven #2
“Bro,” Djimon interrupts. “Let Gold talk.” He huffs. “You two are too soft. I’m gonna go get hurt with this massage. It’ll be less painful than this fucking chat.” He rolls his eyes and tugs one of his black braids tighter into the bun at the back of his head.
We watch him walk away for a second.
“He’s not wrong,” I finally say. “This is awkward.”
“My last team was a mess,” Connor says at the same time.
We both stop, staring at each other.
“Go ahead,” I finally say.
“My last team…too many big personalities, you know? I don’t want it to be like that here. A fresh start, right?”
I nod.
“And I mean it. I didn’t mean to disrespect her.”
“No, you didn’t.” I heave a sigh, pressing my thumb into a tight spot in my quad. “Things are…weird with Oxford. Michelle, I mean.” It feels too good to use her first name.
I don’t deserve to call her that.
“I’m weird about it,” I finish quietly. “This isn’t a you thing, or a team thing. This is a me being an asshole sometimes thing.”
“You’re not an asshole, but you have the asshole,” Marino yells from down the hall.
“He is a pain in my assholes,” Wyatt shouts from next to Marino, using his same stupid impression.
I roll my eyes. “Find a new character,” I shout back. “That one peaked two decades ago. Kinda like you, Grandpa.”
“Ageist!” Wyatt chucks a half-empty water bottle at me, and I catch it easily, then unscrew the lid and drink the rest of it. “I was fifteen two decades ago. You’re not that much younger than I am.”
“I think that is what he is trying to say,” Marino tells him in a loud whisper. “That you act like an old man.”
Wyatt narrows his eyes at me. “I hope you get pink eye from sharing my water bottle.”
“That’s not…that’s not how that works.” I stare at him. “What do you think pink eye is? Where the hell has this water bottle been?”
“Exactly,” Wyatt says, wagging a finger at me. “That’s what I thought.”
Marino puts his face in Wyatt’s, clasping it between his hands. “I do not see the pink eyes.”
I sigh and turn back to Connor, who’s watching with a completely bemused expression.
“Anyway,” I drag out the word, trying to remember where I was in my apology before Captain Questionable Hydration Habits piped up.
“We’re glad to have you here. I’m glad, too.
Wolfe was my closest friend on the team, and I think maybe I should’ve been better about welcoming you to the Aces after he left…
and not by punching you in the face.” I grimace.
“That would be his asshole,” Marino shouts again, clearly listening in.
“I’m going to invite everyone over to my place for dinner soon. It’s part of our team traditions, and I hope you’ll be there,” I tell him.
Connor nods slowly. “That would be cool.”
“Awesome. I’ll send more info to the group chat. You’re in it, right?” Damn, I really have been slacking on my captain shit if I haven’t even double-checked that. Connor’s been here for nearly a month now.
“I’m in it.” He grins. “I just don’t talk much.”
“Thank fuck.” I blow out a breath. “I thought maybe I forgot to add you and was going to have to turn in my captain’s shit.”
“You’re good.” He jerks his chin at me. “I gotta get to my PT.”
I hold out my fist, willing him to bump it, hoping I haven’t fucked up too badly.
He does.
I stand in the hallway for a long moment, wondering how the hell I nearly hit the guy.
“Che palle,” Marino says loudly. “First team dinner and only because you were going to punch his face.”
“Yeah,” I say over my shoulder. “And you just volunteered to cook. If you don’t shut up, I’ll break the spaghetti in half.” I mime breaking noodles, and Marino gasps in mock horror.
“My grandmother would roll into her grave.” He shakes his head.
“Just in it. Roll in her grave.”
He frowns at me. “My grandmother is still alive. How would she roll in it?”
I bark out a surprised laugh. “You know what? I take back what I said about the spaghetti.”
“I am glad you can see reason, Gold. Now you just need to get your woman.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you trying to start a fight, too?”
“Me? I would never.”
“He thinks you’re gonna blow it with her,” Logan says from the locker room doorway. His hair is wet from being freshly showered. “I think we need to help you game-plan how to get your girl.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Yeah, because you’re an idiot where she’s concerned.” Logan pulls his bag over one shoulder, and the door closes behind him.
“He is right. Young and smart.” Marino nods. “He would never break spaghetti.”
“Never,” Logan says with a fake shudder. “Criminal.”
“Esattamente.” Marino throws his hands in the air. “He threatens the noodles.”
“That’s only because he’s messed up about his girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” I repeat.
“Not yet. But we’re going to come up with a plan,” Logan tells me in a singsong voice. “Just you wait.”
My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out, thankful for a distraction from my two idiot teammates.
The smile dies on my lips, and I frown down at the screen, any good humor vanishing instantly.
The Golden Girls (and Tristan)
Paisley
Tristan, you need to talk to mom
Meg
Please. She might listen to you
I rearrange my own bag on my shoulder, freeing up my hand to type a message back. A quick look up tells me Logan and Marino are already nearly out the door.
Tristan
We all know mom won’t listen to me either
out of all of us, she’s least likely to listen to anything I say
A beat goes by, my chest tightening and tightening. I make myself tap out the question I don’t want to ask.
Tristan
what now?
Paisley
just call her
please
Paisley sends a picture of herself with a pouty lip, and Meg immediately hearts it, then sends a picture of her middle finger up.
It makes me laugh, even though a pit of worry is about to open up in my stomach.
Isla hasn’t responded yet, but I know she’ll send a stupid GIF later when she gets off work. GIFs are her love language.
I lean against the wall, ignoring the few players still making their way to their cars or to the trainers and physical therapists, tapping out a few different messages to my mom before I finally settle on a classic.
Tristan
hey mom
Mom
your sisters talked to you, didn’t they?
it’s my life, and I’m moving in with him.
Worry about yourself. It’s not like you’re perfect.
you can’t even keep a girlfriend. I don’t need your advice
“Fuck.” I close the app and shove my phone back in my pocket. Love you, too, Mom.
Yeah, that went about how I thought it would.
Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though.