Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
TY
I lag behind the guys on the way to the locker room.
My adrenaline is just starting to come down, and I should be celebrating with the rest of them.
We may have won as a team, but on a personal level, I couldn’t have done much worse.
I did my part to carry us to our first win, but it wasn’t without another first. My first personal foul of the season. It’s not something to be proud of.
Some of the guys have already made jabs at me about it and the penalty we incurred because of it.
There’s no doubt in my mind Coach will have some commentary for me later about the late hit.
I don’t want to make excuses, but it wasn’t intentional.
I didn’t hear the ref’s whistle. Knowing Avery was on the sideline—catching glimpses of her in all her cheery, high-kicking glory—was more of a distraction than I had anticipated.
I strip down and head toward the showers.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the warm water wash away the sweat and debris from tonight’s game.
The whoosh of the water garbles the sound of the music that’s been pumping through the locker room since we stepped foot inside it.
Rap isn’t exactly my first choice, but it’s not like anyone ever takes a poll before pressing play.
Turning off the water, I wrap my towel around me with only one goal on my mind. Get home. See Avery.
How is that suddenly the perfect night?
“Good game, brother,” Ramiel says as he passes me halfway to my locker.
A little basket of toiletries hangs from his hand.
It makes me want to smile. He gets crap from everyone for having such a specific postgame skincare ritual, but it’s his thing, so I keep my mouth shut.
Ramiel always goes to bat for me, the least I can do is support his meticulous—and harmless—habit.
“Could always be better,” I say.
He spins on a heel and points at me. “Keep that mindset, but don’t beat yourself up. Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Foster, our kicker, pops up next, stopping beside Ramiel. “Goin’ to Trace’s party tonight?”
“I might,” Ramiel says, then they both look at me.
I shrug. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Are you and Trace still being weird with each other?” Foster asks.
Ramiel shifts his footing.
If I’m choosing between going to Decker Trace’s house and mine, I’ll pick mine every time.
Especially if Avery is waiting there. Decker and I didn’t exactly get off on the right foot when I got traded—he claims I went too hard and hit him when he wasn’t ready during a preseason game.
I beg to differ. We should always be ready for anything on the field, preseason or not.
I don’t think it helped that I might have called him weak in response to whatever bitterness he directed at me after.
Since then, it’s been nothing but butting heads.
And because he’s well-liked, there’s no doubt it’s put a damper on my friendships with the other guys. Besides ol’ faithful, Ramiel.
I shake my head. “Nah. Just have other plans.”
Foster sucks in a breath, his brows raising, something mischievous taking over his stare. “You’re not ditching for some girl, are you?”
I shake my head again.
“Good.” Foster looks at Ramiel then back to me, his voice lowering. “’Cause I can’t be the only one who saw your little pregame...” He waggles his thick brows.
I frown.
Foster’s eyes dart from Ramiel to me. “The cheerleader. I saw you… ya know.”
My stomach sinks. He saw me do the nose scrunch?
“No. Nah.” I step back, grabbing a towel hanging nearby.
My body and mouth move at their own free will as I scrub the rough fabric down my face and try to think of an out.
How could I have been so dumb? Cheerleaders can scrunch their noses.
That’s a thing for them, right? A player making faces toward the sidelines…
directly at the cheerleaders… That’s suspicious. Obvious.
I’m an idiot.
Foster holds his hands up in surrender as a confused Ramiel looks like he wishes he were anywhere but here.
So do I. Did Rami see too? I scan the immediate vicinity.
Maleko and Decker chat nearby about Lena.
She was here tonight. The cameras showed her almost as much as they showed the game from what I saw the few times I glanced up at the jumbotron.
Before I can fully process what I’m saying, my lips are parting, and the first foul thing that comes to mind spills out.
“Did you see Lena’s skirt?” I ask Decker.
Everyone stops talking and turns to face me.
I rub my extra towel over my hair and down my face to cover the fact that I feel like I want to die.
This isn’t who I am. I don’t say things like this.
Maybe in a past life that Ty might have said something to ruffle some feathers because shooting first is the surest way to protect yourself.
But I’m not that guy anymore. I’m learning.
Well, trying to. If there’s one thing I picked up from losing my sister, it’s that speaking out of turn does more harm than good.
But I’m desperate, and desperation makes a guy do wild—stupid—things.
And just in case this hasn’t pulled enough attention from Foster’s cheerleader accusations, I land one final blow. Staring Decker straight in the eyes, I add, “What I wouldn’t give to—”
But I don’t have a chance to finish because Decker is spatting something back at me before whipping me straight in the crotch with his damp towel.
I buckle over at the nauseating jolt. A small chorus of laughs and whoops sound off as I try to catch my breath.
I clutch my lap to both soothe the sting and keep my towel in place as I dart toward my locker.
Maybe that was an overcorrection, but if anyone was talking about Avery and me, this is sure to divert their attention.
And if Decker didn’t hate me before, there’s no way he doesn’t now.
I keep to myself the rest of the evening as I pick through the protein-heavy postgame catering and chug some electrolyte-infused drinks.
When I’ve had enough refueling, I slip out the exit, trek across the player lot, and dive into my SUV.
Navigating toward home on the packed streets is actually refreshing.
Anything is better than the tension I stirred up after the game.
But now my night can begin. Something zips through me.
In a few minutes, I’ll be home. On my couch.
And so will Avery.
I’m wondering if she’ll be willing to have our movie date—movie night—tonight.
But when I walk through the door, everything is dark.
I flip a switch, illuminating the whole first floor.
I call her name once, just to check. But there’s no answer.
Instead, Dollyboy replies, mewing as he picks up his pace toward me.
“Guys’ night?” I say, crouching down to scratch his head.
He purrs in response.
I drop my stuff on the kitchen island, checking my phone as I make my way to the couch.
She didn’t even text. I debate whether I should message her first and ask if she’s okay, but Dolly curls up on my lap and my hands get too busy combing through his fur.
I lay my head back against the cushion, closing my eyes to let them rest as visions of Avery literally dance through my head.
I’m still glad I didn’t go to Decker’s, but it would have been nice to not be alone.
Something pushes off my body, and I wake to see Dollyboy racing down the hall, heading straight for the stairs. A door clicks shut upstairs.
Avery’s home.
The entire house is dark, save for the lamp in the corner of the living room.
I swing my legs onto the floor, and that yellow flower-stitched blanket falls to the ground.
Something warms me on the inside at the thought of Avery sneaking in to throw a blanket on me.
I spot a dribble of water on the hardwood floor.
Somehow she managed to water the plants and toss a blanket over me without me noticing.
It’s sweet. And very Avery. But part of me wishes she had chosen that time to be her typical wrecking ball self.
Waking up to see her standing over me is exactly how I want to be woken up.
I can’t help but wonder where Avery was tonight.
I also can’t help but feel a little stupid for expecting her to be home waiting for me.
Yawning, I shuffle my socked feet over the splatter of water to soak it up and trudge upstairs. Sleep circles back to me, and I collapse on my bed, immediately passing back out. Thank God tomorrow is a rest day.
When I finally pry my eyes open, I’m lying in a pool of my own saliva.
Dang. That kickoff game really took it out of me.
Sun slinks through the cracks of space around my curtains.
I check the time on my phone and realize I forgot to charge it.
I put it on the charger and make my way toward the bathroom to brush my teeth after forgoing it last night.
It’s not a habit or anything, I was just too tired.
My phone pings when it has enough juice, and I spit in the sink and rinse my mouth. When I unlock my phone, I see a new message from my mom.
Mom
Great job tonight. Wish we could have been there. Johnny said that personal foul was crap
Me
Thanks, but it was a late hit
I know what Johnny is doing. It’s what he always does…
tries to bond with me by hopping onto my side.
I know he means well, but I’d rather him be honest rather than trying to win me over.
If that ever happens, it won’t be because he makes some bogus claim like a late hit call was crap.
I’m self-aware enough to acknowledge when a foul call was warranted.
I pull open my curtains, knocking into something on the floor.
It teeters and topples over in the shadowy room, the sunlight illuminating it as I bathe the space in light.
It’s a dead orchid. I’d forgotten it was there.
Plants in the house are a new concept in general, but they usually live downstairs.
This one is up here because it was in a bad way.
It looked a little sad one day, and I thought maybe I could—I don’t know—impress Avery by saving it.
So I poured some coffee into its soil because I vaguely remember her mentioning it being good for plants.
Well, it must not be because the whole thing withered.
Then I panicked and hid it in a corner of my room.
The worst part is, if what she was saying the night we danced together means anything, I think she knows.
I let out a long sigh. I have to replace it.
As much as I prefer not to leave the house much the day after a game, the plant store is calling my name.
By the time I finally get around to leaving, it’s almost noon.
I stop at The Bean Canteen for a cup of coffee anyway.
The coffee hits my empty stomach, and I immediately regret forgoing any actual sustenance.
This is not what my body needs after a grueling game.
With Avery out of the house, I have to use my time wisely.
I stop into McMurphy’s Home and Garden with one objective: bring home a new orchid to replace the lifeless one I’ve been stashing in my room before Avery notices.
But for her to notice… she’d have to be sitting just so on my bed.
A heat surges up my neck at the idea, and I quickly throw every rational, reasonable thought at it.
My roommate doesn’t belong in my room. Despite the fact that I think I want her to be more than merely a roommate…
That’s what she is. And she belongs in her room.
As I park the car and lock it to head into the shop, I play that on repeat to myself.
Despite how attracted I am to Avery—and not just to her looks—she’s my roommate.
She will stay my roommate. Because she and I getting scorched for starting some pro-ball-illegal relationship is the last thing we need.
Avery doesn’t deserve that. This is her dream, and I care too much about her to let either of us ruin it.
The last time I was here feels like forever ago.
It was the night before I convinced Avery that I was right, that she shouldn’t be out on the street alone.
If I ever said the “I was right” thing out loud—at least to her—I can only imagine what kind of vengeance she’d exact on me.
Probably something fiercely cute and not nearly as harmful as she’d intended.
I smile as I think about her, and then it’s like my mind has manifested her itself.
.. because the bells on the door tinkle, and then she’s staring right back at me.