Somebody drops a toaster in a bathtub
There are several problems with finally sleeping Maddy. The biggest one is that now I know exactly what I am missing.
A week ago, I could survive an away game in Bronx without thinking about her body every four minutes because most of the available information had been theoretical.
Today, the trainer has finally cleared me and I know what she sounds like when she stops laughing long enough to lose control.
I know how her legs feel wrapped around my waist, and the precise amount of pressure required beneath my tongue to make her forget every smart comment she was preparing to say.
This is useful information in exactly zero basketball situations.
At six forty-two, I left her tangled in my sheets with her hair covering half the pillow and one bare leg hanging over the edge of the mattress. She barely opened her eyes when I kissed her.
“Win,” she mumbled.
Then she pulled the blanket over her head and went back to sleep.
We did not win.
Now I am trapped on the return bus with twenty disappointed basketball players, three coaches and the vivid memory of Maddy’s hand gripping my hair.
Basketball rarely sucks.
Losing definitely sucks. Travelling almost two hours to lose and then climbing back onto a bus while knowing Maddy could have been waiting in my room introduces an entirely new category of suffering.
We are on the Turnpike somewhere south of Newark when I text her again.
Will: I can still taste u
The three dots appear almost immediately.
Maddy: Good evening to you too
Will: It was a good morning
Maddy: You’re welcome
Will: I miss having you in my hands
There is a longer pause.
Most of the team is spread across the bus in various stages of post-loss misery.
Nate has his hood pulled over his face. DJ is watching game footage without headphones because apparently hearing Coach shout the same defensive instruction again is how he relaxes.
Leon has been asleep since we crossed the state line, which is probably the only thing preventing me from making him discuss the three turnovers he contributed tonight.
I have taken both seats near the back.
Maddy: did u google how to sext a girl on a team bus?
Will: Didn’t need google
Will: Was it working?
Maddy: Unfortunately. Wildly
I smile down at the screen. This is pathetic. Not the smile. The smile is excellent.
The fact that I have been away from her for approximately twelve hours and already feel as though my body developed a mild separation anxiety.
Will: U sounded satisfied last nite
Will: I can make u come harder nxt time
The reply takes nearly a minute.
Maddy: Confidence
Will: Promise
My thumb stops over the screen.
I know Maddy came last night. I had her body tightening around my arms and heard the sharp, breathless sound she made against my shoulder. Hard enough that her nails left marks along my back and she briefly lost the ability to insult me.
But not earth-shattering. She looked pleased. I want devastated. This is not insecurity. This is professional ambition. Probably.
Maddy: aw. captain wants extra practice
Will: Is this an invitation to sext?
Maddy: no. I’m being professional in a mini skirt
I stare at the message.
That is an irresponsible piece of information to send a guy trapped on public transport with his teammates. My body reacts so immediately that I shift my gym bag onto my lap.
Nate opens one eye. “What are you doing?”
Is this guy a snake? He was sleeping minutes ago.
“Nothing.” I try to hide my grin.
He looks at the bag, then at my face. “You look suspicious.”
“Go back to sleep.” I grumble.
He closes his eye again. “Still monk mode?”
I glance at my phone. Maddy is typing but nothing comes yet.
“No,” I answer before thinking.
Nate’s eyes snap open again.
“I mean, yes.” I correct myself. “I just never called it monk mode.”
His head lifts from the window. “What does that mean?”
“It means mind your business.”
Nate studies me for a second, then smiles slowly.
I turn towards the window, typing again.
Will: Why would you tell me that on a bus?
Will: Now I have to sext you
Maddy: u started it
Will: What colour?
Maddy: Black
Will: Shirt?
Maddy: Use your imagination. It has buttons
Will: not enough for business then
Maddy: You’ll survive
I am not sure I will.
The image develops immediately: black skirt, white shirt, Maddy sitting across from Jenny with one leg crossed over the other, pretending to discuss campaign budgets while looking like the reason corporate policies have to be written down.
It is unlikely she looks like that right now but the consumption of porn has delivered the image clean and clear in my head anyway.
Will: My room tonight
Maddy: working late with Jenny. Proposal due tmr
Will: Work is cockblocking me?
Maddy: Capitalism has no loyalty
Maddy: ur hand will have to cover tonite soz
Will: I don’t prefer my hand anymore
Will: No need to soz
Will: Heartbroken though
Her reply takes several seconds.
Maddy: I’ll lick it back to health
Jesus Christ.
She knows I was referring to my heart.
She also knows there is no medically plausible way to lick a heart without committing several serious crimes, which means my mind immediately relocates her tongue to every part of my body it can reach without surgery.
My cock hardens beneath my track pants.
Excellent.
Ninety minutes on a bus after a humiliating loss, and I am now attempting to conceal an erection from twelve men who spend most of their lives noticing physical weaknesses.
Maddy: ur very experienced with that tongue tho
Mother— Now I am now officially uncomfortable. Not emotionally.
Emotionally, I am having an outstanding time. Physically, I have become aware that bus seats were not designed for boys remembering a blondie coming against their mouths before sunrise.
Will: Now u know I wasn’t bluffing
Maddy: oh I knew
Maddy: u clearly knew wat u were doin
My ego accepts the compliment immediately. The rest of me remains focused on earth-shattering orgasm.
Will: Experienced
Maddy: humble too
Will: You’re too good with ur tongue.
Maddy: I know
That’s Maddy for you. No false modesty. No pretending her mouth did not temporarily remove my ability to identify basic objects.
She woke me after our first round by sliding beneath the sheet, took me into her mouth and looked pleased with herself when I nearly drove my head through the headboard.
Then she climbed over me and said, “Now breakfast.”
I had corrected her understanding of the meal by putting my face between her thighs.
That was fucking twelve hours ago.
Far too long.
Maddy: hope the bus view is excellent with that information
Will: Hate you
Maddy: No u don’t
No. I really do not.
I lean my head against the seat and close my eyes.
Last week should have relieved eight months of accumulated drought. But I quickly realise before we even reached Bronx this morning that I no longer just want sex.
I want Maddy. Repeatedly. Preferably against my desk.
My phone begins vibrating in my hand twenty minutes later. Maddy’s name appears across the screen.
I answer before the second vibration. “Thought you were working.”
“I am working.” Her voice comes bright and fast through the phone. “Jenny wants to buy snacks, and I need a scheduled brain break before I begin threatening a prospective client.”
“You scheduled me?”
“No. I became bored and called the first available source of entertainment.”
“What did the client do?”
“They want someone to feel youthful, premium, accessible, exclusive, aspirational and authentic.”
I chuckle as her words stumble out one by one. “That sounds like six different campaigns.”
“Thank you. Apparently, I’m the only person brave enough to say that because Jenny keeps trying to phrase it professionally.”
Jenny’s voice sounds in the background. “What snacks do you want?”
“All of them!” Maddy calls away from the phone. Then she returns to me. “Also something with chocolate.”
A door closes somewhere on her end. Maddy’s voice changes slightly. “So. How was the game?”
The question removes some of the heat from my body. I look towards the dark road beyond the window. “We lost.”
“I know you lost. I watched the score.”
“We lost badly.”
“The score wasn’t that bad though.”
“Enough that I’m considering changing my name and transferring.”
“I’m sorry, Willy.” She does not say it dramatically.
Just soft enough that some of the anger beneath my ribs shifts.
“You’re still not fully recovered,” she adds. “Maybe the team—”
“Not an excuse.” The words come out before I can stop them. Defensive. Sharper than she deserves.
Maddy is quiet for half a second.
I drag a hand over my face. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologise.”
“I’m just angry.”
We studied Fordham for a week. I knew how they would trap the perimeter. I knew which players would cut inside once our defence shifted.
Knowing did not stop it.
I should have changed the rotation earlier. I should have taken the timeout before the lead widened. I should have pulled Leon after the second turnover instead of giving him the opportunity to produce a third.
“I kept thinking I could correct it during the game,” I admit.“By the time I changed the play, we were already chasing them.”
Maddy hums thoughtfully. “You become very intense when you’re focused. You identify the failure, run diagnostics and threaten everyone with additional exercise. I’ve experienced your intense setting.”
I smile despite myself. “Have you?”
“Yes. Very efficient. Strong thrust capacity.”
I look towards the seats ahead of me. Nobody reacts to the horror that has taken over my face. “Did you seriously just say that in Jenny’s room?”
“She went to the store.”
“I thought you were working.”
“Now I am commenting on your professionalism.”
“Fuck.” I groan but it comes out half defeated.
Her laugh bursts through the phone. The sound loosens something else inside me completely.
“I could be better,” I tell her.
“At basketball?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“And the other thing,” I add.
Her laugh comes warmly. “You’re always better in the next round.”
I have no idea whether she means basketball or sex. I decide she means both.
We continue talking after that. She begins telling me about the proposal. Not in any sensible order though.
She starts with the campaign concept, interrupts herself to complain about a professor, remembers Jenny’s date, circles back to the campaign budget, then asks whether parrots understand when people insult them.
I answer when appropriate.
Sometimes when it is not appropriate.
At some point, Jenny returns and begins opening cupboards in the background. At some point, the team bus exits the highway. At some point, I realise Maddy and I have been on the phone for nearly forty minutes and less than ten of them have involved sex.
I have never called a girl simply to talk while neither of us was travelling towards the other.
Usually, calls were logistical. Where are you? Are you coming? Which room?
Maddy calls because she wants a break from her own brain, and I answer so she could give me every thought anyway. It doesn’t feel right to just talk about the logistics of improvement for another round while she keeps spitting out other thoughts.
I genuinely like listening to Maddy. Even when she moves through subjects so quickly that following her feels like watching game film at double speed.
“How long have you been working?” I ask when she pauses to drink something.
“Since class.”
“What time was class?”
“Eight.”
“It’s nearly ten at night.”
“I took breaks.”
“How many?”
“I went to another class.”
“That is not a break.” My chuckle comes abruptly.
“Professor Brar’s voice is medicinal. I slept for twelve minutes.”
Her voice is still bright. Too bright for somebody who has been moving since eight in the morning. I can hear papers shifting.
“Can I ask you a work thing?” I rest my head on the window.
“You may ask me anything, Willy, I am a genie.” Her laugh is crisp over the line.
“What did the gym actually pay you?”
A pause. Papers stop shifting.
“Why?”
“Because my thesis has a chapter on rates and there is no public data on any of it. The department has nothing. The NCAA has nothing. I've got eleven pages of me guessing in a professional tone.”
“You're writing a thesis about money for athletes?”
“It’s for my Econ thesis. Something I know of. And have questions about. I’ve been writing about it since September. So what's the actual rates?”
Silence, and then a noise I can only describe as a girl putting a pretzel down.
“Will.” She stops chewing.
“Yeah.”
“Get a pen.” Her tone is serious.
And she starts talking, and she does not stop for sixteen minutes.
What the gym paid. What she asked for and what she settled at and why.
What she thinks she should have charged and the exact reason she didn't. Businesses that said no and the four different shapes a no comes in.
Which athlete on this campus has forty-one thousand followers and no idea what that is worth to anybody.
“Are you writing any of this down?”
“Yes.” I glance down at the back of a scouting sheet in the dark on a bus. Four pages. It is better than everything I have.
“Am I in the footnotes?” I can’t tell if she’s teasing or genuinely asking.
“You're an anonymised industry source.”
“Fuck no, Willy.” The bright thing is entirely back in her voice. “Put my name in it, William.”
My laugh comes out so sudden it almost wakes Nate up so I immediately hide it with a cough.
“Go home after the proposal.” I look out the dark window.
“I am going home.”
“What time?”
“Jenny bought food.”
“What is food?”
There is rustling. “Pretzels. They have carbohydrates.”
“So does beer.”
“Excellent. I’ll get beer.”
“Do not—”
She laughs. “Relax. There’s pizza coming. You are very bossy after sex.”
“I was bossy before.”
“True. Terrifyingly.”
“Call me when you’re leaving Jenny’s.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m bossy.” A beat. “So I know when you’re home.”
The bus turns through the Princeton gates while Maddy explains why one of the hockey players requires “emergency eyebrow management” before appearing in professional photographs.
When we finally stop, Coach stands and begins reminding everyone about film review tomorrow. Coach looks towards me. I stand, collecting my bag.
“I have to go,” I tell her. “Bye, M—” I stop myself in time. Hesitation creeps up in my lungs when I was about to say her name.
She doesn’t seem to mind.
“Drive safe, Willy.” Maddy says cheerfully on the phone.
The call ends. I step off the bus and immediately text her.
Will: My desk next?
Her response arrives before I reach the car.
Maddy: already my favourite proposal