17. Brodie
Brodie: How were classes today?
How were classes today?Jesus, I sound lame.
I delete the text, unsure.
Is it cool to randomly text Lizzy for no reason? No reason at all?
People do it all the time, yeah?
Besides, she and I have been talking for a while—all I’m doing is checking in. That’s what friends do.
No big deal.
“What are you doing?” Reed—one of my other roommates—walks into the kitchen and goes straight to the refrigerator.
“No idea.”
Once he’s done digging, he takes an entire rotisserie chicken from the top rack and sets it on the counter. He leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms, watching me.
“Dude, are you alright?” He studies me with his head tilted to the side.
I breathe out, cell in the palm of my hand like a limp dick. “I have no idea.”
“Do you need advice about something?”
I give my head a stiff shake. “Probably.”
Reed laughs. “Are you trying to text someone? You look traumatized.”
“I would text someone, then I felt like an idiotic fuck, texting about nothing.”
“Why does it have to be about something?”
Why is he being so reasonable?
“Because. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”
He nods sagely. “Ahh. This is a girl problem.” He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Is it the girl who was here the other night cause she had rats at her house?”
“It was one squirrel, not a bunch of rats, but yeah—it’s her.”
I tell him about our trip to the hardware store, how she bought paint, and how it’s weird that she put Sully in the friend zone.
“Why do you need a reason to say hey what’s up?” Reed turns to the counter and pops the lid on the chicken, picking at the meat and taking a bite out of the chuck between his fingers. “Be like, hey, how was class today? Or some shit like that.”
That’s exactly what I would ask her, but hearing him say it makes it sound more lame than me saying it.
“I want something better.”
He chews, then swallows. “Have you texted her before or is this the first time?”
“We were texting last night.”
“’Bout what?”
I laugh. “The size of my dick.”
I swear, my roommate’s eyes damn near bug out of his skull. The expression on his face is one of complete shock. If any other one of our roommates had said it, he wouldn’t have batted an eye—but this is me, and I never tell anyone my business.
“Shut the fuck up.”
I laugh again, pulling up the messages between Lizzy and I, holding the phone out so he can scan them and get himself up to speed.
Reed reads them out loud.
Lizzy: So what are you up to right now?
Brodie: Walking home from practice.
Lizzy: WALKING home? Isn’t it far?
Brodie: I could use the exercise lol
Lizzy: Okay but it’s almost dark out.
Brodie: I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”
Reed glances up, eyes still wide. “I can’t believe you said that!”
He looks impressed and reads on.
Lizzy: Are you sure?
Brodie: That I’m a big boy?
Lizzy: Okay, but tell me why you were using a question mark. Has this topic been up for debate? Inquiring minds want to know…
Brodie: No! It’s never been up for debate.
Reed pulls back and resumes his position against the counter.
“Dude. I’m impressed.”
“That’s where it ends.”
Reed scrunches his mouth up, considering my options. “When did you last see her?”
“This morning.”
“Doin’ what?”
“I was coming home, and she was leaving for class. She dropped a bunch of her shit.”
Reed blinks at me. “What do you mean, she dropped a bunch of her shit?”
“Like, she tripped or something, and all her stuff fell to the ground, and I helped her pick it up.”
Reed gives me a blank stare. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes, why?”
“Dude, are you a fucking idiot?”
Yes?
“What?” I ask defensively. “Speak English so I can understand what you’re trying to say to me right now.”
“She dropped her shit on purpose, bro.” Reed smacks me in the arm. “How dumb are you?”
“Pretty dumb.”
“So what happened after you helped her pick up her stuff?”
I shrug. It’s not hard to remember. The entire five-minute exchange will be burned into my fucking brain for as long as I live. Her face gazing at me—those big brown eyes and the freckles across her nose…
“Hello?” My roommate nudges me. “What the hell happened after you helped her pick up her stuff?”
“She thanked me, then she walked to class.”
Reed groans and pulls a hand down his face.
And here I thought Sully was the dramatic one in this house…
“Why are you making those noises?”
“Because, dude, you missed the golden opportunity to walk her to class.”
“But I had to get my notes.”
“Who gives a shit about your notes? We’re trying to get you laid!”
We’re not trying to get me laid, but whatever. No sense in arguing.
“For the sake of the argument, let’s say she did want me to walk her to class, and I didn’t. So now what?”
“Now you can text her.” He slaps the phone in my hand, almost sending it flying. “Don’t be a pussy. Do it.”
Agree. “But what do I say?”
“I don’t fucking know, say anything. This isn’t rocket science. She’s a chick. They love this crap.”
“Tell me what to say.” I hold the phone so he can take another look at the text chain, and his mouth moves as he reads, his head shaking as he formulates a message for me to send Lizzy.
“What if you ask her about painting her room? Ask if she’s done it yet.”
“Oh, snap. Good idea.”
I type out a message to Lizzy and hit send.
Good. This is good stuff.
Reed stuffs chicken in his face, watching me so intently that it makes me uncomfortable. It’s obvious he wants an update and plans to stick around until he gets one. Too bad I’m not interested in giving him a play-by-play.
I exit the kitchen to the sound of his protests.
Lizzy: As a matter of fact, I have NOT painted my room yet. It’s more daunting than I was expecting LOL
She includes at least six laughing-crying emoji.
Tell her you’ll help her paint.
But you barely have time to take a shit, let alone paint a bedroom.
Bull-fucking-shit. You have plenty of time.
Just say it.
Do it.
Brodie: I could probably lend a hand if you needed help.
Lizzy: I DO seem to recall you saying you could, but I didn’t want to be a pest and remind you ha ha
Brodie: When were you thinking of getting it done?
Lizzy: Idk, this weekend?
Brodie: I have a game Saturday, but I’m around all day Sunday.
Brodie: Actually, I have a meeting on Sunday morning, but after that, I’m free.
We always have a post-game team meeting the morning after, watching the game footage to study the plays. Hits. Misses.
Mistakes.
Lizzy: Sunday it is. What snacks should I have for you?
Brodie: You don’t have to get me snacks.
Lizzy: I know I don’t have to—I want to.
Brodie: I… eat whatever.
Lizzy: That’s SO not helpful.
Brodie: Sorry but it’s true, I’ll eat anything.
Lizzy: Okay. I’ll figure it out…