26. Diego
“God, I fucking hate bye weeks,”Rob grumbled into his locker Wednesday. “We’re just about to not suck and we’re benched for a week.”
“Not suck” was a bit of an understatement. We’d lost only one game in our first eight, but a week nine bye week would leave us cooling our heels rather than maintaining momentum.
“Don’t you have something fun to do at home? Like hang out with your kid?” I sat at my locker. I wasn’t sure what Rob did besides play football, play video games, and parent. He rarely attended our team’s community projects unless someone forced him and he certainly didn’t join us at the clubs or bars.
“Nope.” He ripped off his jersey, throwing it into the dirty clothes basket in the center of the locker room before grabbing a towel. “She’s in school, which sucks, and Noa’s leaving, which also sucks. I need a fucking hobby is what I need.”
“You can join Frankie and I for bye week, big guy.” Trent punched Rob in the arm.
Bye week wasn’t exactly a vacation, but it was as close as we got during the season. Light practice Monday through Wednesday and then off until the following Tuesday. The newer players often traveled back to their alma mater, taking in some college football and beers while the older players jetted off for a weekend away. The beach or maybe the city. Just a change of pace.
And I was going to Mississippi of all places.
Rob glared in return. “Sounds miserable.”
“Says the guy whining about having nothing to do.”
Rob rolled his eyes and stomped off toward the showers.
“You know he targets you in practice every time you antagonize him, right?” I asked Trent.
Freshly showered with a towel slung around his waist, Trent shook the water out of his hair and grinned. “Yeah, but he has to catch me first and that guy can’t run worth shit.”
Trent rifled through his locker and pulled on a shirt. “So, what are you doing this weekend? Oktoberfest? Mexican Grand Prix? You better be taking Cassie, because she turned me down flat when I asked her to come with me.”
I threw a towel at Trent’s face. “You know that’s my girlfriend, right?”
“Oh, it’s like that, now?” He pulled the towel off his face and lifted an eyebrow. “Because that’s not what I heard.”
I stood up, annoyance morphing into anger. “Then you better get your hearing checked.”
“Fine.” Trent held both hands up with an amused smile. “I guess I misheard.”
He pulled on sweatpants and shoved his feet into a pair of shoes before shouldering his bag. “I thought Cassie was too smart to date a fuck boy like you, Diego. But guess I’m wrong. Happy bye week all! Stay out of trouble.”
A fuck boy like me.
The words stung.
Cassandra had left everything to do with us sleeping together behind in Las Vegas almost effortlessly. She came over most nights and we’d eat dinner and play video games on my couch until late enough that I’d offer to let her stay the night. And then she’d yawn and say that’d be nice, but she should get back, and we’d repeat that cycle every third night or so.
Which was the deal we made. Hell, more than the deal we made. We’d agreed to some game appearances and enough press to make it look like I was dating someone who didn’t get invites to the Oscars or the Grammys. She could have come out to two games, held my hands after, and been on her way.
But somehow, actually having slept with Cassandra was a million times worse than just imagining it. Sure, I would have walked around half-stiff every time she got near me, anytime I got a waft of oranges and cloves. But the reality had turned out so much better than the thoughts that kept me up all night.
Now I had memories of an all-too perfect reality of what I could have every day. If she’d agree to date me, which she didn’t seem overeager to do. Instead, she’d switched right back to the way things were between us. And my poor approximation of acting normal felt more and more forced as the weeks went on.
I pushed out of the stadium, digging through my bag for my phone and car keys. Paul, my mother’s husband, provided the perfect excuse to spend bye week with Cassandra. I’d been racking my brain for ways to recreate the energy of Las Vegas and while Lone Tree, Mississippi was about as far away from Vegas in terms of entertainment, at least I’d have her mostly to myself.
I palmed my keys and illuminated my phone, checking for messages. I scrolled past one from Paul, reiterating his offer to pick us up from the airport, and onto Cassandra’s.
CASSANDRA
Packed and ready to go.
I already had a suitcase in the trunk and drove straight to her apartment. Practice had let out early, so traffic was light, and I made it to her front door in less than fifteen minutes.
She stood outside the apartment building, wheeled luggage at her side. She’d tamed her hair with two braids and wore a long gray jersey dress that hugged her curves and made me wish we were going anywhere besides my mom’s house. I hopped out of the car and loaded her suitcase into the back beside mine before holding open the passenger door for her.
“How was practice?” Her eyes perused the length of me, an impish grin on her face as her eyes wandered over the dark black shirt that clung just a little tight across my chest.
“Good. Mostly game film and some drills. Nothing intensive. No one wants to get hurt before their weekend off.” And considering most of them were heading straight to the airport to jet off to exotic beaches and vibrant cities, I couldn’t blame them. Instead, I was dragging Cassandra to Mississippi. “You sure you want to come? There’s nothing to do. It’s a real small town.”
Cassandra waved a hand as she closed the trunk, her suitcase safely enclosed in the back. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never been to Mississippi before. Maybe I will fall in love with it and decide I never want to leave.”
“I doubt that.”
“Well, I won’t know until I check it out.” She rounded the car, setting her arm on the top. “Besides, if I’m in Mississippi, I can’t feel guilty about not picking up shifts at the bar.”
“No ghost tours this weekend?” I grinned.
“Nope, or else I might have stayed.”
She entertained me with stories about a picky dog-walking client while I navigated to the Norwalk airport. The familiar ritual of checking into the flight distracted me from the nervousness of introducing Cassandra to my family. Especially when our relationship wavered in this weird middle ground of friendship and dating.
Cassandra donned a sleep mask and burrowed into my side, snoozing throughout the flight. Of course, I didn’t mind. I rested my chin on the top of her head, inhaling cinnamon and spending way too much time thinking about our night together overlooking the fountains.
“So, are we getting picked up, or are we renting a car?” Cassandra asked in the tiny two-terminal airport over an hour from my hometown.
I grabbed her bag. “My stepdad and Mom are picking us up. He insisted after I said I’d cover the flight.”
“He sounds really nice.” She smiled warmly. Of course, Cassandra would find Paul delightful. She’d fall in love with his deep southern accent and his impossibly boring stories about driving a Mack truck for a living. And rather than spending time alone with her, I’d get trapped at the dinner table with them, telling stories around each other.
“I was thinking, maybe we could slip out for a night? Drive down to Biloxi and hang out at the casino?”
“You don’t want to spend the entire time with your mom?” The mild reproach tamped down any chance at escape.
Paul waited outside the terminal, a smile on his face and a giant “Welcome Home, Diego!” sign that made my cheeks burn. Mom stood beside him, beaming. She didn’t wait for us to exit, instead running to greet me with a painfully tight hug.
“My baby!” she yelled into my ear, squeezing my neck. “And Cassandra! I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. Let me get a look!”
She let go of me just as fast as she grabbed me, her focus entirely on Cassandra. Not that I could blame her. She held Cassandra’s shoulders, cocking her head and pulling her into a hug. “Gorgeous. I can see why Diego is absolutely smitten.”
I winced. “Mom, you know we’re not really?—”
She waved me off, still clinging to Cassandra. “I know, I know, but let me tell you, I never saw him kissing Zoey like that. Or Mel. Or what was that other girl? The singer?”
I pried Mom off of Cassandra, tamping down a rise of embarrassment that made me feel less like a fully functional adult and more like an annoyed teenager.
“Lana, I think,” Cassandra answered without a hint of shame or annoyance. Did I want her to be annoyed? “I’m Cassandra. It’s nice to meet you. Diego has only said lovely things.”
She lifted an eyebrow in my direction. “Well, isn’t that nice? Call me Marla, or Mom. And this is my husband, Paul.”
Paul offered a hand to Cassandra before placing her bag in the backseat of the car.
“Oh, does this have one of those back benches?” Cassandra bounced to the back of Mom’s station wagon, pulling open the trunk to find a row of seats and clapping her hands. “We had one of these when I was a kid. Becca never let me sit in the back. I hated being the youngest.”
Mom laughed. “We’ve had this old thing for ages. Diego took the bus throughout grade school, but my schedule lined up when he was in middle school so I could drop him off. He was so embarrassed. He’d sit in the back seat and race out before I could tell him bye.”
Cassandra laughed, biting her bottom lip. “Diego! You were one of those kids? I really can’t wait to hear all your Diego stories. He acts so cool and collected. I want to hear all the embarrassing stuff.”
My chest clenched, hoping Mom could keep at least a couple stories from Cassandra.
“Shouldn’t we get on the road? I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to hang out in the pickup lane.” I chucked my bag in with Cassandra’s and opened the passenger side door for my mom.
A lady in a high-visibility vest and a security uniform confirmed my words with a short bleat into her whistle, waving for Paul to drive off.
“You know, love, you really didn’t have to come all this way. Didn’t you have something fun planned?” Mom asked as she slid into the car. “Where did you go last year?”
“Octoberfest,” I answered with a grimace. “I just figured since you couldn’t make a game this year, I would come see you for once.”
We piled into the car, and Paul pulled out of the airport.
Mom shifted in the passenger seat, turning to face us in the back. She tilted her head, eyes scanning Cassandra. “Well, I am thrilled. Especially since you brought Cassandra.”
“He couldn’t keep me away,” Cassandra added gamely. “Besides, I’ve never been to Mississippi before.”
“Well, there’s not much to see, but I had a little barbecue planned,” Mom said. I winced. “Nothing big, just some friends.”
“She’s invited the entire town,” I murmured into Cassandra’s ear with a groan. If I had to come to Mississippi, I wanted to spend that time with my mom and Cassandra. Instead, I’d spend the night signing autographs and fending off church invitations.
“Don’t listen to him! Besides, it’s a small community, and everyone is eager to see Diego after so long,” Mom explained, more for Cassandra’s benefit than mine.
“Sorry, bud.” Paul frowned in the rearview mirror. “I tried to talk her out of it.”
“I get to see Diego at least twice a year. Some of these people haven’t seen him since he was a child!” Mom argued.
“That sounds like fun. I hadn’t even eaten barbecue until I moved to Virginia,” she said. I shot her a sidelong look, eyebrow raised. “Yeah, not a thing in New Hampshire. We grill.”
“Well, you’re in luck. Pastor Davies is doing ribs and butt. It’ll be a hoot,” Mom replied.
I shook my head at Cassandra, eyes wide. She tapped my chest with a grin. “Don’t be dramatic!”
“I’m not dramatic,” I argued.
“He’s a little dramatic,” Mom agreed, a pleased smile on her face as she turned to face the road. “Did I mention I turned the spare room into a gym?”