Chapter 16 Larissa #2
“Larissa,” I say, happy to get to her name. “She’s good.”
He scoffs. “Don’t lie to me, Hudson.”
“Nah, she really is good. In every way.” I grin.
“There you go. You’re coming back around now.”
“You’re such a fuck.”
He laughs.
I look across the water again and feel the air against my face.
“I know what you’re getting at,” I tell him. “And she is good. We had fun last night.”
He pauses. “But …”
“But it’s done.”
The words taste rotten as I spit them out and admit the finality of my time with Larissa. Sure, I could milk it out for a few more days while I’m in town, but what would be the point?
I’m a method to end the madness in her life, a screw in her toolbox, so to speak. That’s it. And that’s fine.
Why would I want more, anyway? What would be the point in trying to figure out how to see her again after I go back to school—if she even wanted to see me, that is? The reason I’m here in the first place is because I’m not at a Bowl game because I can’t keep my shit together.
Why in the world would I even entertain the idea of juggling someone like Larissa when I can’t keep myself in the air?
I had enough dropped passes this year to prove that.
“I’m going to be smart here for a second,” River says. “This is a new skill of mine, so be patient.”
I laugh at him.
“Watching my mom be sick has changed a lot of shit for me,” he says, his voice void of any levity. “We went four years thinking football was life. We balled out, had fun—we lived a life, Hollis. But what do we have to show for it?”
“Not a National Championship this year.”
“Exactly.” He sighs. “Look, maybe this was the universe trying to tell us something. Maybe we … made complete asses out of ourselves on the field so we could look beyond the goalposts.”
“Wow. What have you been doing up there in Vermont?”
“Listening to audiobooks, believe it or not.”
“Huh. I’m not sure I like this version of you.”
He snorts. “I’m not done. My brilliance continues.”
“Great,” I deadpan.
“Life isn’t about anything we’ve been working for, man. It’s not about statistics and ratings and scoreboards. Who cares about that shit?”
I wince. “Well, you did until your period of enlightenment.”
He laughs. “What I’m trying to tell you is that what we had on the field was special because we had each other.
It wasn’t about being sports stars. Not really.
It was about the huddle. The locker room.
It was about The Truth Is Out There after a game and listening to Crazy Carl tell us every way we fucked up and laughing our asses off. ”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. But I don’t think it matters to him at this point.
“I realized it while I was sitting here with Mom. After a game, I called her. I wanted to share it with her, you know? I wanted her to be proud of me.”
“She is. You know that.”
“Dude, don’t interrupt brilliance. You should be taking notes.”
I laugh.
“I’ve sat here and watched my mom try not to fucking die and realized what’s important. It’s not anything tangible,” he says.
“Ooh, big word.”
“I know. It’s impressive. Dammit, Hollis—don’t sidetrack me!”
I can’t help but laugh at him again. God, I miss him.
“Okay. I’m focusing here.” He sighs.
“Nothing in this world matters unless you have someone around to share it with. How fun would winning have been if we didn’t have each other? It makes all the hard shit you have to go through okay. We survived Three-A-Days and Hell Week and getting screamed at by Coach. Why? We had each other.”
“Yeah …”
“That’s what life is about. It’s about people, Hollis.
You, me, and Crew have had the world shoving that in our faces lately and we didn’t get it.
” He takes a breath. “Life has been showing me and Crew that it’s about the people in our lives through my mom getting sick and his pops passing away.
And you’ve been focusing on the what’s and how’s of life and none of it makes any sense to you. Because it’s the wrong focus, man.”
“That’s deep,” I say.
“It’s the truth. Stop focusing on the Combine and getting your shit together and all that crap. Figure out who you’re going to spend your time with and work from that angle. I’m telling you, man. This is where we’re wrong. It’s why we’re struggling.”
“Eh, I don’t think I’m really struggling,” I lie.
He scoffs. “You’re struggling more than all of us. Like it or not.”
This is why I called River and not Crew. I needed his raw and unedited truth.
But maybe I should’ve called Crew. He would’ve used lube.
I look at the sky and wish I could just fly away to an island somewhere by myself.
“I don’t have a Vermont like you. There is no Ana. I don’t have someone to take care of or a fucking farm that’s a family treasure like Hollywood. I have me. And that’s not as simple as it seems.”
“I lived with you for four years. I’m pretty sure I know that.”
I grin. “Then you know that being me is not conducive to attracting people who want to stick around.”
“Promise me something,” he says.
“Dude, no. What is this? You’ve been spending way too much time with women.”
He laughs. “Trust me on this.”
“Will you dedicate your first self-help book to me?”
“I give up.” He yawns. “Okay. I gotta get going. Mom was up at like four this morning, and I need to try to take a quick nap before I run her to the doc in a couple of hours.”
“Tell her I’m thinking of her.”
“I will. Thanks, Hollis.”
“Of course.”
“Think about what I said,” he says.
“Yes, Dr. Phil.”
He snorts. “You’re an asshole.”
“Talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
I end the call and slip my phone back into my pocket.
If life was fair and things could be good, I’d like to see Larissa’s face every day. But I can’t do that to her. It wouldn’t be fair.
I turn around to go to the hotel, but my phone buzzes in my pocket. I stop walking and pull it out, expecting a follow-up text from River.
It’s not.
Larissa: Hey! I have a box of Ding Dongs over here and was thinking about getting a pizza. Know anyone who would like to hang out and watch a movie or something?
I walk again, my pace quickening. My fingers fly over the phone.
Me: I could find you someone.
Her response is immediate.
Larissa: I like football players.
Me: Shit. That narrows it down. I’m retired.
Larissa: Well, former players can work. I’m not *that* picky.
I can’t help myself. I smile.
Me: Any other requirements?
Larissa: Nice abs.
Me: That definitely narrows down the field.
Larissa: An amazing voice.
Me: Eh, widens the field again.
Larissa: IT DOES NOT.
Me: LOL
Larissa: Fine. I’d prefer a guy who has amazing abs, buys perfect gifts (I haven’t taken it off!), and has recent experience fucking me on a rooftop.
Immediately, my cock gets hard, and all thoughts of River’s ridiculous theories are pushed to the wayside.
Me: I know a guy. What time should he be there?
Larissa: Around six-ish?
Me: I’ll see you then.
Larissa: Oh, so it’s you?
Me: If anyone else meets those requirements, I’d love for them to show up.
Larissa: See you tonight.
I stare at her final text before pressing the button on the side of my phone.
What can it hurt to spend a little more time with her?
“I don’t know,” I say as I walk across the street, “but we’re about to find out.”