Chapter 29
Randy
Well, today is Australia Day, and I didn’t need the reminder that it has been twenty-six days since New Year’s. Twenty-six long days without Rachel.
“Randy, get up!” Shelby yells at me. “Your wicket keeper,” she says, pointing to the spot I need to stand behind our trashcan.
“I’m what?” I yell back.
“Wicket keeper,” she yells again.
“I figured you have had enough self-batting, and you should try something different,” she says, a cheeky look across her face as everyone laughs at my expense.
I walk past her, shaking my head, but shooting her a wink.
“Sorry, mate, couldn’t let that one pass by.”
“You’ll keep, mate,” I say, walking over to our makeshift cricket field. Travis and Merrick are batting, and Walsh is bowling while everyone else stands around fielding.
I admit I didn’t want to play, but it was just what I needed. For the next hour I do nothing but have fun laughing with our friends; no thoughts of Rachel, and that’s a first for a long time.
“HOWZAT!” Jason yells as Shelby holds her finger up signaling that Christian is out.
Jason cheers.
“What?” Christian yells, looking toward Shelby. “I missed it; it didn’t hit my bat!” he says to her.
“Nah, that caught an edge; you’re out, mate.” Shelby laughs at him.
He drops his bat in a huff and runs toward her.
She screams and runs, but it’s no use, Christian catches her quickly and throws her over his shoulder.
“Drink break,” he yells, even though we played with drinks in our hands the whole time.
Apparently, it’s un-Australian to play backyard cricket without a beer in your hand. It’s what adds to the challenge.
Our yard is decorated in Australian flags, we have meat pies, lamingtons, prawns, and a rack of lamb has been cooking in the oven.
We have been doing our best to talk Australian, use Australian words like G’day, Esky, prawns, ute, thongs, and everyone has been throwing the word ‘mate’ into every sentence.
Shelby’s parents mailed some Vegemite that we all tried and hated, much to her delight because it meant no one would steal it from the fridge.
Shelby even said a few sentences completely ‘Ocker Aussie’ slang, and none of us knew what she said, not just because of the words she used, but from how fast she spoke.
I lean back in my chair and sigh, stretching my legs out in front of me and overlooking the backyard with the boys.
“Stop it,” I look up and see Seth’s eyes on me.
“What?” I ask back.
“Brooding.”
“Whatever, man,” I say back in annoyance, his comment irritating me.
Coming from the guy who is in love with a girl from his past and is unable to move on, yet recently learned she is attending this very campus, and hasn’t done anything about it.
Plus, I have enough people in my life telling me what to do.
I don’t need it from my friends too. That, and I am just irritable lately, twenty-six plus days of no sex will do that.
Add losing Rachel, the championship, and the guilt from all of it—and yeah, I'll admit, I’m not a bundle of joy lately.
I’m a miserable sack of shit, but just leave me to wallow in my misery… I deserve it, relish it even.
“You just seem a bit miserable lately,” Walsh adds.
Yes, I have been, and I know it, but just let me drown myself in pity for a little bit longer. “Thanks for pointing that out, mate,” I say, throwing back my beer.
“Maybe you should go talk to her,” Travis adds from the chair beside me.
“Maybe my friends should just stay out of my business,” I growl out. They don’t deserve it, but I can’t help it, I’m annoyed and extremely frustrated.
“Geez, man, calm down,” Christian says as he turns the sausages.
“Aww, thanks, man, nothing calms me down more than someone telling me to calm down. Great advice, Cap.”
“We’re just saying…”
“Fucking stop,” I cut him off and stand in annoyance, the white deck chair falls back behind me. “Just leave me be. Fuck,” I say, internally raging as I stride into the kitchen.
Shelby, Letti, Dani, and Georgina all look up as I walk through the kitchen. They’ve clearly heard my outburst, and the salad prep comes to a standstill—knives still, hands half lifted—as they watch me in silence. Concern lingers in their eyes, but no one says a word.
I head upstairs without looking back, shut the bedroom door behind me, and let the quiet swallow me whole.
I ended up crashing after my little temper tantrum.
I guess being miserable and running around in the sun with countless beers wiped me out.
Plus, most nights I haven’t been getting much sleep.
I usually lie in bed thinking about her for half the night, then my stupid boner keeps me up the other half.
Emotionally I’m drained, and I’m so sick of sitting around feeling this way, and apparently my friends are too.
It’s not who I am, I’m usually such a happy, positive person, always laughing and joking around.
I didn’t get to being the star quarterback by sitting around sulking.
I worked my ass off for it every single day.
This self-pity and wallowing in my feelings isn’t me, it’s not who I am.
I’m a winner. I go after what I want and I always get what I want because I’m fucking persistent.
Granted, this wanting Rachel is a whole new thing completely: love, a relationship.
Usually what I want just revolves around me, and when it does involve women, it’s a fleeting want, easy to achieve.
But I have never wanted something as much as I want her.
So, I’m sorry, Rachel, I’m not going to give up on us.
I’m tenacious, ruthless, a go-getter—hell, I’m straight out fucking annoying, like a dog with a bone, never going to let that fucking thing go stubborn type of man.
The next morning I wake more determined than ever before.
Sliding on my gray Raptors shirt, loose black gym shorts, and my lucky all red Nike shoes, I jog downstairs.
I turn into the kitchen and slap Seth on the shoulder as I pass him sitting at the table.
“Sorry, man,” I say as I take a seat next to him and reach for the coffee pot.
“All good,” he says back. “You good?”
“I’m great,” I reply, feeling like my old self. Seth seems almost concerned by the overly chirpy mood.
“Shelby went to see if you wanted lunch yesterday, but you had crashed.”
“Yeah, I think I needed it, but I’m sick of my self-pity act, like I know you guys are. I’m having this coffee and going over to Rachel’s.”
His dark eyes look at me over his coffee; dressed all in black he looks like he is about to head out himself. Black jeans, shirt, and his black leather jacket hanging over the back of the chair. “When you’re not being a miserable dick, seeing you strung out over a girl is actually entertaining.”
“Going somewhere?” I ask to change the subject off me.
“Just a ride with the boys from the garage.”
“You should go for a drive to visit your mom,” I dare say to him. God knows how long it’s been since he has visited them—at least a year, I think. His family would be missing him, but yet, he doesn’t, too ashamed of himself to make the drive and see them.
He doesn’t say anything, just looks straight through me.
I throw back my coffee in one go. “All right, I’m out,” I say, dusting off my hands.
“Good luck,” Seth says to my back as I walk out of the kitchen.
I turn back to him, flashing a cocky grin, “Pfft, I don’t need luck…I’m Randy Harrison,” I say, adjusting my Raptors cap. “No girl can say no to this.”