Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TY
For the second time today, I’ve let Ramiel rework my calendar.
Which was sparse, anyway, and consisted mostly of reading in my room and hanging out with Dolly.
This is how I find myself sitting in a corner at The Malted Mule for a karaoke night, celebrating Maleko Aleki’s birthday.
He’s already drunk, waiting for his turn to sing, and following his girlfriend around as she wraps up her waitressing shift.
Maleko loves this place so much, he’s made a point to date the staff.
I’d say not to mix business and pleasure, but I’ve never intentionally been a hypocrite.
My chest tightens at the thought of Avery.
I texted her after I saw her get pulled to the side by a superior.
How could I not? Her brow was knitted in a way that signaled distress, and there’s no way her choreographer didn’t notice too.
She’s the reason I’m here. I need a distraction from the fact that she never texted back.
She’s not always “on top of” texts—so to speak—but I can’t be at home with her.
I don’t know what I’d do if she were just down the hall choosing to ignore me.
I’ve been nursing a beer for almost an hour, following around Ramiel like some lost little puppy.
So far no one seems to mind that I’ve tagged along.
We drift behind Cole, carving a path through Maleko’s birthday guests, and I take in the space as we move through the dive bar, unsure of where exactly they’re leading me.
I can see why they all come here so often.
Even with the person howling on the stage, there’s something about the low lights, the scent of grease and hops hitching a ride on the AC…
If a bar were to be labeled cozy, this would be the one.
We stop here and there, and I cling to my beer like a lifeline.
It’s always nice to have something in your hands when you’re out somewhere and rampant with nerves.
A football, a book, a certain hazel-eyed girl’s hand.
Avery occupying any more space in my head simply isn’t possible.
Cole and Ramiel get lost in a conversation with some lady I’ve never met, but Ramiel says he invited her and introduces her as some librarian or something.
I can tell Rami’s got a thing for her, and I can respect that he’s chosen someone who makes a living surrounding herself with books.
When they get lost in a conversation I’m not a part of, I’m grateful when my phone buzzes.
I’m even more grateful when I pull it out and see Avery’s name.
Avery
Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be fine
Me
Everything okay?
Avery
It will be
Me
Need to talk?
Avery
Did Ty Brewster just offer to talk something out? :P
Me
Seems like a certain chatty rabbit has rubbed off on me
Avery
Rabbits don’t make sounds. Plus you compared me to a bunny specifically
Me
You’re right. A cute little bunny.
Avery
And you should consider yourself lucky
Me
Oh I do. Seriously though… You need anything?
Avery
Thanks but I’m good
I wait for her to say something else. If anyone is a double texter, it would be Avery. And I would welcome it from her. But she doesn’t say another word.
My phone smashes into my chest as we come to a stop at the other end of the pub.
I’ve been sucked into my screen so long I didn’t realize Cole had chosen a target.
When I look up, I’m face-to-face with Decker.
If anyone were to not want me here, it’d be him.
I chug half of my now-warm beer and lower it, a white-knuckle grip around the bottle.
Cole slurs something out first, but I’m still a few steps behind, so I’m not sure what exactly he says.
Someone bumps into my back, continuing the traffic jam, and I launch forward, locking eyes with Decker.
It’s easy to avoid sensitive topics at practice and during games.
We have business at hand, eyes on the ball, feet on the ground, that’s it.
We don't make time for small talk because it never comes to anything good. Case in point: this instance. Because I’m not sure what else to say, I pick up where we last left off with our small talk.
“Where’s your girl?” I ask, and immediately, I can tell I’ve struck a nerve. Not exactly what I was going for, but then again, I didn’t really have a game plan.
His eyes narrow. “Why? You gonna tell her to her face that you've been fantasizing about how short her skirt is?”
His comment is like a punch to the gut, but I suppose I deserve it. I try to keep my composure as all eyes fall on me. “Fantasize? I was making an observation.”
“What if I said the same about your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” I say too quickly, my stomach sinking. Did someone see my texts with Avery? But how could they have?
“Oh, and I’m sure it’s your mom you were gigglin’ like a schoolgirl with on the phone a little bit ago.” Cole snickers and elbows Ramiel in the ribs, who smiles timidly and rubs his side.
I arch a brow at Cole. Just when I thought I was making headway with some of the guys, I’m proven wrong. It goes to show that you can’t trust anyone.
“We all heard you,” Decker adds, leaning forward. He knows he has the upper hand.
There are a thousand indecent things I want to spew back, but none of them would have the effect I want because he’s caught me.
As much as he cares about Lena—what people say about her—I care about Avery.
I’d flatten someone—if Avery wouldn’t hold me back—no questions asked if they so much as blinked at her wrong, nevermind if they actually made a comment about her appearance.
My jaw tenses as I swallow every disdainful thing poised on my tongue for Decker.
“I’m just kiddin’, man,” he finally adds. “I’m gonna go grab another drink. You guys want anything?”
Everyone declines as he dips out, and I’m more than grateful to have the conversation end. His accusation fills me with unease, even if he did just say it to match my own jack-knobbery.
“What’s up with you guys?” Ramiel asks when Cole disappears to chat up some girls sitting with Foster at a nearby high top.
“What guys?” I ask, sipping on my empty bottle. I do need another, but Decker’s the last guy I’d let get me one. He’d probably spit in it—or worse—at this point.
“You and Decker. Why you always buttin’ heads? How are we supposed to make it to the Super Bowl if we can’t even get along off the field?”
I shrug. “Tell him to get over the training camp thing.”
“The what?”
I take time to briefly explain to Ramiel about Decker’s qualm with me. About “going too hard.” Too hard, too little. I’ve heard them both from different guys on the team. Whatever I do, I can’t make everyone happy.
Ramiel slaps me on the shoulder. “Why don’t you just apologize?”
I stop dead in my tracks. It’s a simple solution, one that never really crossed my mind. Maybe at one point it did, but it’s been so long now that there’s no way that can resolve the damage I’ve continued to cause since the training camp incident.
“I’ve got a lot to apologize for at this point,” I add.
“So apologize for it all. You know, sometimes you overcomplicate things.”
I grunt in response.
“A lot could be resolved if you’d use your words. Say what you’re thinking.”
“Pfft. You’ve seen where that gets me.”
“It ain’t rocket science, Ty. It’s just words. You just have to choose them more carefully.” He grins at me before spinning on a heel. “Come on.”
The DJ makes an announcement that he’ll be taking a smoke break, as we weave a path through the bar.
Which means karaoke is in intermission for the time being.
He dims the lights even lower and puts on some song with heavy bass before disappearing out the back.
The small space that was left open in front of the DJ booth collects bodies one by one as people jump in, dancing and bumping, drinks raised high over their heads.
Someone pulls us to a table, offering us to join them for a round of shots.
When Ramiel doesn’t say no, I don’t either.
It’s a bit pathetic how many social cues I’m taking from him this evening.
I’m out of my element. I suppose it’s nice to have some kind of guide for the night because right now I’m floating along, a husk of a human. My brain is somewhere else.
Two girls we met earlier reappear, their drinks sloshing out of their cups as they start up another conversation.
Seconds later, one of them grabs my hand and whisks me away from the shots table and onto the impromptu dance floor.
Why did we have to stop at a table so close to the dancing?
She’s cute. Curvy, brown hair, brown eyes, and she talks so much I don’t have to talk at all, which only reminds me of a certain chatty girl I was hoping to forget.
My dance partner says she’s in school to become a nurse, which is admirable.
I should take advantage of this moment, of her willingness.
I was looking for a distraction, and the distraction has come to me.
She’s right in front of me. Each roll of her hips should be pulling me closer to some let’s-go-to-your-place-and-forget-Avery moment.
But the closer I get to her, the more wrong it feels.
If there’s going to be any your-place-or-mine moments, I’ll choose mine every time.
Because that’s where Avery is. Maybe Avery isn’t my girlfriend, but being here now without her—with this other girl—I just… I miss her.
Chewing my lip, I back away, stammering some incomprehensible excuse. Then I order a ride before I can think better of it. I want to go home. I want to see Avery. There’s something I need to get off my chest.