Chapter 7
seven
Fletcher
Becca’s pretty cool. We’ve been talking for nearly an hour, and she’s told me all about how her brother started playing for the Blue Jackets even though he went in as a free agent.
And this is all working in Marcus’s favor because it took no time at all for him and Becca’s friend Logan to start making out in the corner of the party.
“I still can’t believe your brother is the Benji Davis.
” I open up a High Noon and hand it to her.
Then, I grab a beer for myself. “Tate and I still talk about that crazy fucking goal he scored on the Hawks two seasons ago. He was wild for that one, especially since it was only his second year in the league.”
“He still talks about it, too.” She laughs, taking a sip of her drink.
“It gets brought up so much when our family gets together that every time he mentions it now, he has to add five dollars to a jar. We thought it would help him not bring it up as much, but I guess when you’re making what he makes, five dollars every now and then isn’t a big deal. ”
“Not to side with your brother, but if it were me, I think I’d bring it up all the time, too.”
“That’s fair. You guys are pretty great, though, too. I’ve been to some of the games; I think it’s a fair comparison that you all have shot some of your own crazy goals.”
I shake my head, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“It’s not even a close comparison. None of our crazy goals amount to anything compared to a number of the ones I’ve witnessed watching pro games.”
“You need to give yourself some credit.” She rests against the pantry door. “You got thrown into that game after Jeremy Moore got hurt, and you carried your own. I mean that twisty thing you did before shooting the puck; I didn’t even realize it went in because it was so smooth.”
“Thank you,” I respond. “I appreciate it. Even if I think you’re bullshitting me.”
“I’m not.” She draws an X over her chest. “Cross my heart.”
“Thank you. It’s nice playing as often as I am with the guys, but I’d rather have Jere back.”
“I know how scary things like that can be, trust me. I’m happy he got off the ice, though, and he seems to be doing alright.”
“He is. He’s still pissed, though.” I take a drink of my beer.
“I can’t blame him, but it’s also not good.
I think we’re all worried he’s going to push himself too hard, too soon.
He’s already been drafted, but Jere thinks of everything, so he wanted to have a backup plan in case things didn’t go how he wanted them to.
I think because of that, he feels as though the team will drop him if he doesn’t get back in a certain amount of time. ”
“Back injuries are no joke,” she begins, turning around and moving her hair out of the way, revealing a gnarly scar.
“I broke my back during my junior year of high school during my bars routine. I thought my life was over.” She turns around, her hair gently falling over her shoulders.
“I had to relearn how to walk, how to use utensils, simple stuff I learned when I was a baby. And I thought my gymnastics days were over.”
“What changed?”
“I was patient.” She laughs. “I didn’t want to be, trust me.
I was the biggest asshole in the world to everyone.
Especially Benji. I mean, he was living out his dream, and I was losing mine.
However, I underwent physical therapy and followed my doctor's advice. They made me realize that gymnastics might not be a possibility anymore, but if I ever wanted to walk again, this was important. Gymnastics might come later, but we needed to get through the basics first. A year later, I was back in the same arena, for the same competition, doing the same bars routine.”
“That’s fucking insane.” My eyes widen. “A year?”
“Yeah, I know. And that happened because I didn’t try to rush back. If I had, I probably never would’ve competed again. That competition locked in my full ride here.”
That’s crazy. I couldn’t imagine having to be that patient, but I suppose it all worked out in the end.
“I might need you to talk to Jere,” I reply. “He’s really pushing it, and maybe hearing your story, it’ll really get through to him.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Tate and I have tried talking to him about overdoing it since he got hurt, but he keeps giving us this crap about how he’s been hurt worse and got up quicker.”
“How long have you been with Tate?” Her eyebrows pop up as she takes a long sip of her drink.
My face twists, and I tilt my head to the side. “Tate and I aren’t dating. I thought that was obvious because I’m here talking to you.”
“You sure about that?” She crosses her arms, but she doesn’t seem angry. She has a gentle smile plastered on her face.
“I’m pretty sure. Tate’s my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
I pause, cross my own arms, and lean back against the counter.
“How do you know about Tate?”
“You’ve brought her up in every single conversation we’ve had.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I’m not mad.” She steps towards me. “It’s honestly the reason I finished my first drink so fast. After the third mention of her name, I started taking a drink every time you said it.”
“Have I really been talking about her that much?” I question, and she nods. “I’m sorry. I hope you know that I was completely invested in our conversation. I’ve loved talking to you.”
“Oh, I know. I’m quite interesting,” she teases. “All I’m saying is the way you talk about Tate makes it seem like you’re in love with her. So, if that’s not the case, and you don’t want people to think that you are, you might need to work on that glimmer in your eye you get when you say her name.”
“I don’t have a glimmer.”
“You have a glimmer.” She rests against the counter next to me, poking a finger into my ribs. “I honestly could tell you more about Tate than I could tell you about, well, you.”
I lick my bottom lip before bringing the bottle to my mouth and polishing it off.
I don’t talk about Tate that much, right? Is this how all my conversations with other girls go? I haven’t really tried dating anyone in a while or even cared to hook up with anyone, but would I succeed if I did? Or would they all think I’m in love with my best friend?
“I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot; I just, I was curious.” I force a smile to tell her it’s okay. “She sounds awesome. Like an amazing friend.”
“She is. I don’t know who I’d be without her.”
“Does she know that?” Becca’s eyes narrow, and I feel naked.
Like she’s seeing right through me, right through the smoke and mirrors.
“Because if someone talked about me the way you talked about her, I’d want someone to tell me.
I’d want someone to tell me they don’t know what they’d do without me.
It might change things. Make a difference. ”
Okay, is this chick from the future? I don’t know how she’s read me in just an hour of conversation.
“I should go find her.” I push off the counter. “Is that okay?”
“Oh, that’s fine.” She waves her hands in front of her face.
“Truth is, Logan wanted me to talk to you because he was attracted to your friend Marcus and didn’t want me to be left alone.
I just got lucky that you were a hockey player and not one of the complete assholes that make up our football team. ”
“Yeah, we don’t know how Marcus is friends with them. There are a couple good ones, but most of them are, well, assholes.”
“Go find your girl, Fletcher. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“See you around, Becca.”
Jere.” I stop him as he heads toward his room, hoping that he’s seen Tate around. The party was so crowded to begin with that even though it’s starting to die down, it’s now just the size of one of our typical parties.
I’ve been searching for Tate for the last ten minutes, and even though our house isn’t that big, with all of the people, there’s a chance we keep missing each other.
Jere is the first of the guys I’ve seen on my search, so that theory is pretty plausible.
“What’s up, Fletch?”
“I was just wondering if you’ve seen Tate.” I rock back on my heels, hoping the answer to my question will be yes.
“I actually just got back from bringing her home,” he replies. “We left about an hour ago.”
About the same time I went off to talk to Becca. What were you thinking, Fletch? Leaving your best friend sitting in a crazy party all by herself.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. She was bored, and, well, you were kind of occupied.”
The tone in his voice almost seems like a jab. I guess I don’t blame him, though. If Tate had made me go to a party and then left me to talk to another guy, I’d hope everyone would be pretty pissed about it as well.
I guess when Marcus asked, I didn’t really think the whole thing through. Honestly, if I were talking about Tate as much as Becca said I was, I should’ve just brought her over and introduced the two of them.
“Becca and I aren’t like that. I was just trying to help out Marcus.”
“I don’t know. It didn’t look like that to me. You guys seemed awfully cozy.”
“Even if we were, it’s not like Tate and I are—”
“Maybe not. But she’s your best friend, and you left her high and dry.”
Out of all of the guys to get this kind of talk from, Jere is the worst. He’s the dad of the group, our voice of reason, and he only has conversations like this with us if we’re really fucking up.
It doesn’t help that Tate and Jere have always been the closest in the group, aside from me and her.
She always told me that he felt like a big brother to her.
I guess when your actual older sibling isn’t around that much, you have to turn to someone else for that wisdom.
Hell, I have several older siblings I could turn to, but none of them gives advice as well as Jere.
“Should I go over there?” I ask, leaning against the wall. “Or do you think I should give her a night to cool off?”
“Cool off?” He laughs. “She’s not mad, Fletcher; she’s disappointed. She’s hurt.”
“That’s worse, asshole.”
“I know.” He drops a hand on my shoulder. “I think you deserved it… just a little bit.”
I shake his hand off my shoulder, and he takes a deep breath.
“Give her a night. But you’ve got a lot of groveling to do for leaving your best friend, who absolutely hates parties like this, alone for another girl.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Jere. You’re a good friend, you know that?”
“Oh, I know.” His eyes narrow at me. “Because I never would’ve left one of my friends alone to go hang out with a girl.”
He slaps the side of my bicep with the back of his hand, and he walks into his room.
Before he shuts the door behind him, I say, “You would if you actually had a girl who was interested in you.”
The last thing I see is his middle finger as the door slams shut.