Page 2 of Brick Wall

“The two times I’ve gone on a date through an app, I got catfished and ended up on a date with a guy with a cat.” I guess I admitted that fact out loud. Crap.

“What’s so bad about a guy with a cat?” he asks, confused, but has a little humor to his voice too.

“Nothing, if he just had a cat, but I didn’t expect him to bring the cat on the date and be our third wheel. Actually, I felt like the third wheel, to be honest. He wore one of those sweatshirts that you can put a cat in.”

I take a slight pause and I’m about to continue, but he states, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You know those big pullover sweatshirts, well, they sell them with huge pockets in the front, and now they make a particular sweatshirt, especially for cat owners, so you can keep your cat in them.”

I look over to gauge his reaction or to see whether he has questions, but his face is blank.

“So, yeah, so,” I stumble. I don’t know what to say now, either. “He was petting, playing, and kissing his cat the whole time, and it was fine, not the worst date I’ve been on, but I wasn’t expecting, well, a cat.”

“That wasn’t your worst date?” he asks, raising one brow.

“Nah, I went on a date with a cat. Who could be mad at that?”

There’s a beat of silence until “Alex” asks, “So, are you going to tell me your worst date?”

“Nope,” I say, popping the p with my lips.

I look over to my friend Goldie because I realize I’m doing a terrible job of keeping an eye on her. I’m distracted by this giant wall of a man in front of me.

Goldie is laughing at something Bryce said, and it hits me. “Wait, are you here with Bryce?”

“Yes…” He pauses and looks away from me. “You know him?”

“Well, no,” I stumble, but then add, “My friend, Goldie.” I point over my shoulder to the table with the golden-blonde goddess sitting and laughing with Bryce.

“Ah,” he says flatly.

“Not that you asked, but she’s the best.”

“Gotcha,” he says, although it doesn’t really sound like he’s getting me at all. I wish I hadn’t asked so blatantly, but our conversation has been effortless before now.

I don’t know why I do this, but whenever someone plants a tiny seed of doubt, I ramble.

“Well, she is. She’s a delight. The best person I know.

She’s picked me up from the airport four, no, five times, and if I moved, she’d help me in a heartbeat.

She’s the person you’d call in the middle of the night if you hear a burglar because she’d come help.

” I am definitely rambling now. I need to stop talking.

“Why wouldn’t you call the police?” he asks, confusion lacing his tone.

“Well, I’m just saying she’s one of the good ones. Ya know?”

There’s an awkward beat of silence, and then he adds, “Who wants to date a player.”

“Wait, what?” Now I’m the one confused.

“You can’t tell me she doesn’t know who Bryce is…” Skepticism is all over his face.

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re telling me she didn’t swipe right on a professional athlete on purpose?”

“Well, I don’t think you swipe on that app. I think you flick.” He says nothing in response. “Also, I don’t think he put his occupation in his profile,” I say unconvincingly.

“His face is still recognizable.” I’m about to argue that she doesn’t watch football, nor would she care, but he keeps going. “ And you knew she was going out with a player tonight?”

“Well, yes,” I say because I did. Goldie showed me her dating app yesterday, and I scrolled through his profile.

I thought it was Bryce Ellis, but I didn’t share my suspicions with her because I didn’t want to get into her head.

I honestly thought she was going to get catfished, not get the man himself.

It’s why I’m tucked in the corner of the bar in my oversized hoodie in the first place. I was snooping on her to ensure her safety.

“And you know who I am,” he says as a statement of fact instead of a question. His arms are crossed, and there’s a scowl evident behind his beard.

“Yes,” I say softly. There’s no point in denying it.

As soon as I laid eyes on him, I realized the wall of a man beside me was actually the Brick Wall, the best right tackle in the entire league.

No defender can get past him. The offensive line has the best sack rate in the league, being known for effectively protecting their lefty quarterback and he’s a big reason why.

“Alex,” or more commonly Sebastian, when he’s not being referred to by one of his many nicknames, is a man who stands out, even when he’s not trying.

He’s wearing dark, simple clothes, and he’s trying to blend in, but it’s kind of hard when he’s roughly six and a half feet tall and well over three hundred pounds.

Offensive linemen are typically not small dudes.

“I have three brothers, remember?” I remind him as I avoid looking directly in his eyes.

I grew up in the Boston suburbs with three older brothers, so it’s hard growing up without knowing football and the starting players. Football was always on in our house. Even when I moved away for several years, I still followed the sport of my own accord.

I love football. It’s a great sport and I’m not going to apologize for that. I follow most sports, but football is one of my favorites to watch. My home team, the Revolutionaries, have been so dominant over the last decade so it’s been extra fun.

Sebastian is a right tackle and he was drafted by Boston in the third round nine or ten years ago. He’s been a staple to the offense ever since.

He’s also one of my favorite players. He was named “Man of the Year” a few years ago for his strong community impact on and off the field.

He is well known (at least to me) for his significant impact on women in need, creating a foundation with his sister that brought an incredible women’s shelter to Boston.

He was also monumental in creating a program that encouraged teenage girls to continue playing sports in both high school and college, quietly matching scholarship offerings for female students to give them the same opportunity that men do.

Overall, Sebastian is a great player on and off the field.

It took me a minute to figure out that he was here with Bryce. Both Bryce and Sebastian play for the Boston Revs and are apparently friends. I probably should have put that together earlier, especially when he mentioned he was a wingman, but I enjoyed talking to this man too much to do so.

And now I apparently screwed this up. I thought I felt something between us, but now he’s hard as bricks.

The air has changed, and I hate it. I should have just told him my worst date story instead of landing in this conversational nightmare.

“And you didn’t think to tell me you knew who I was this entire time?” he sternly asks.

“I’m sorry.” My voice is soft and small.

I don’t know what else to say to make this right.

Maybe I should have said something. Maybe he should have told me who he was from the beginning.

Maybe it would’ve made a difference, maybe not.

Something tells me this man has his walls up too high to climb over, anyway.

He takes a large sip of his remaining pint of beer and pulls out his stool.

“Nice to meet you, Alexa,” he says, shaking his head, realizing now we both never shared our real names. Whatever.

Before I have time to say anything else, he’s gone.

It’s not until later that evening, I realize I got rejected by two guys at the bar tonight without even trying.