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I love my dad very much, but I will not sacrifice my life for his.
I can’t.
3
Cade
Briar: Two touchdowns? That’s all? You’re slipping, Farmer.
Me: It’s all these rookies. I need my boys back to show off my swag.
Reid: What swag? Didn’t the camera catch you face-planting on the sidelines? Or was that just my imagination?
Man, I miss these guys. Everyone’s so busy now, we only get pockets of time to message each other. The texts come in short spurts. I won’t hear from them for a week, but then on a random day, we’ll text for hours. We try to Zoom once a month, but now that Reid is an NFL rookie, Lex is coaching, and Briar is caught up with the foundation, it feels like I’m the leftover friend who has ample time on my hands to sit around and think about how we’re not as close as we used to be.
Definitely not an ideal place to be in.
Me: Did it also catch me shoulder-checking a chick at the same time?
Briar: You didn’t!
Me: It wasn’t my fault.
Lex: What chick?
I want to write back that it wasn’t his ex if that’s what he’s thinking, but he gets touchy any time one of us brings her up. Poor Big Guy has terrible luck in the romance department.
Me: I don’t know. I tried to apologize but she yelled at me.
Briar: I like her.
Me: *middle finger emoji*
Briar: *laugh face emoji* You could use someone to bring your big head down a peg or two.
Me: Moi? I think you’ve got the wrong guy.
Me: And this guy is about to go to practice to show these rookies what’s up. I’ll talk to you guys la?—
I step on the heel of a shoe in front of me. The person lurches forward, barely keeping their feet under them and balancing a big jug of Gatorade in their arms.
The fan of black hair catches my attention when she whirls to glare at me. I tuck my phone into my pocket and give her a wincing grin. “Sorry.”
“What is wrong with you football players? Aren’t you supposed to be agile or something?” She turns back around and shuffles forward with the jug in her hands. “One tried to kill me last night, now there’s a guy completely oblivious to where he’s going.”
The assessment is pretty fair. “Actually, they’re not two separate guys. They were both me.”
She stops, and I almost run into her again. Turning to peer over her shoulder, she pins me with a laser scowl. “They were both you?”
“I’m really sorry.” Apparently my apology does nothing but make her angrier because her fingers clamp around the jug, their tips white. I hesitate because the feedback I’m getting saysstay away, but I can’t. “Here, let me help.”
She steps out of the way. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying this without running into anything. I can’t say the same for you.”
I try not to let the budding smile cross my face. “Wow. I get the sense that you don’t like me. Everyone likes me.”
“It must be nice to be you. Congratulations.”
Feisty. “Actually, it is. Now let me take that for you.” She resists at first, holding on to the yellow jug for dear life, but I pry it out of her hands with a hard tug. I tap her arm with my elbow. “This is all part of my masterplan to make you love me.”