Chapter 17 #3
“Good for you, man.” Drew bobs his head and takes a sip of his coffee before turning back to me. “Aight, babycakes. Time to talk business.”
“Just spill it,” I say. “All this buildup is making me anxious.”
“Neel Ultex called,” Drew says, setting his cup back on the table with a grin. “They want you back. I’ve been handling the details, but your dad has to sign off.”
“You’re kidding.” My eyes widen. I want to be excited, but the weight of it presses down on me. I don’t deserve the sponsorship back, not after everything.
My head feels like it might explode while I process the news, but before I can dwell on it, Bobby returns, pouring fresh coffee into our cups and refilling Drew’s.
“Thanks,” Henry says with a polite nod, bringing his cup to his lips.
“I’ll be right back with your food,” Bobby replies, turning on his heel.
“I kid you not.” Drew’s smile is wide, bright, and practically glowing with pride. I can see the dollar signs flashing in his eyes. Neel Ultex is one of my juiciest sponsors.
“They never announced the termination of the sponsorship to the public,” Drew continues. “I was informed, sure, but the paperwork never arrived. I found it odd, but I let it be.”
“So, what happened?” I ask, savoring that glorious first sip of coffee, waiting for the caffeine to work its magic. “What made them change their mind?”
“Sales skyrocketed after the incident at the Open because you went after that racket like your life depended on it, and it didn’t bend or break.
Competitors are already calling it a PR stunt, and now Neel Ultex wants to shoot a commercial with you in it titled: Stronger Than Ever.
” Drew sweeps his hands through the air, tracing an invisible rainbow while speaking the words. “Like next week.”
Theatrics on point, as expected.
“This decision is perfect for damage control,” he continues. “Makes my life easier when it comes to cleaning up your image and all that.” He whistles with relief. “My phone is blowing up with calls from media outlets, all desperate to know if it was a PR stunt or not.”
He claps once and lets out a wicked little laugh.
“And what are you telling them?” I ask.
“No comment.” Drew laughs again, clearly enjoying this way too much. “And you’re going to stick to that answer too. We’re done apologizing. It’s time to switch up the narrative. Take back control. We need to retain that account.”
I nod a few times, letting Drew’s pep talk sink in. For the first time in a while, I feel good again. Maybe I can finally forgive myself and move on from that embarrassing episode.
Bobby sets our plates down. Normally, I’d give Henry shit for the mountain of scrambled eggs in front of him. But after last night, I don’t know where we stand. Teasing him and pretending nothing happened doesn’t feel right.
Speculation about where he disappeared to gnaws at me. Where was he? What was he doing? More importantly, with whom? I know better than to ask. When Henry doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t. And right now, he’s clearly not in a sharing mood.
Drew’s phone starts ringing.
“I gotta take this call outside. But eat yo’ eggs, kids. You’ll thank me later.”
He stands and walks off, already mid-answer.
I take a deep breath, grab my fork, and try the eggs. Same old scrambled eggs I’ve had a hundred times, but after a few bites, they start to settle my stomach. Drew was right.
Henry and I eat in comfortable silence, though there’s a lot I wish I could say to him. That’s what I hate about the stillness stretching between us. It feels too sharp and deliberate.
Fuck it.
“Why do you keep saying I’m not NEHBLing correctly?”
Henry chuckles, still focused on his plate as he stabs at his eggs.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember.”
“Just tell me.”
He glances up briefly and shakes his head. “I was about to before you passed out earlier. But it might be best not to mess with your ritual. If it’s working for you, keep at it.”
I sigh. He’s impossible. And probably right. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m not about to mess with my NEHBL. It’s pure magic. I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember.
Better to change the subject.
“What did you mean earlier?” I ask. “About your tennis career ending because of alcohol.”
“Anything but that.”
“Henry.”
“Bells,” he says, setting his fork down and taking a slow sip of his coffee. “This isn’t the time or place for that conversation. And if I’m honest, there might never be a good time.”
“Necio,” I breathe, shaking my head.
“Necia,” he echoes.
“Stop!” I laugh, though it’s mostly out of exasperation. “Why don’t you trust me anymore?”
“This isn’t about trust,” he says, turning back to his plate and taking another bite of eggs.
At least I’m back to being Bells.
“I want to know if you’re okay.”
“I am.” He meets my gaze. “Are you done grilling me?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He can try to hide, but even if he’s changed, some parts of him are still the same.
“Nope.” I’ll never be done trying to understand the parts of Henry that feel out of reach.
He rolls his eyes at me, but it’s playful.
“So … you went back to the party?” I finally dare to ask, searching for his gaze and failing to find it.
Henry clears his throat and drains his coffee. As he sets his cup down, Bobby passes by, and Henry catches his attention. “Can I get a refill?”
Bobby nods and pours. “Thank you,” Henry says, offering a small smile.
“More for you?” Bobby asks, lifting the pot toward me. I shake my head no and thank him.
The moment Bobby steps away, I press again, trying to keep my curiosity casual. “Where’d you go, then?”
“For a walk. A long one.” Henry lets out a deep, loaded sigh. “I needed to breathe, okay?”
I nod a few times, but frustration knots in my chest. He’s dodging every single question, and I can’t deal. I’m seconds away from crying or yelling. I’m not even sure which, but I know I can’t lose him again.
“Did your brain get over-oxygenated to the point that you forgot we kissed last night?” I ask bluntly, patting my mouth with my napkin. If pressing his buttons is the only way to get him to talk, then so be it. “Or are we going to pretend it never happened?”
I don’t want our friendship to suffer because of this when it’s already been hanging by a thread since his return. But what would pretending it never happened mean to him? That he regrets it? That I imagined it?
Drew slips back into his seat with a grin. It’s a happy, dollar-sign kind of day for him after the Neel Ultex news.
“The latter,” Henry replies, flashing a fake little smile before lifting his cup to his lips.
?Necio!
1 It’s a beautifully layered word that doesn’t have a perfect one-to-one translation, but in this context it’s something close to: Stubborn pain in the ass.