Page 29 of Brick Wall

Annie

I ’m exhausted. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, but sometimes in-season, it gets intense. I work eighty-plus hours during volleyball season to ensure we have the best season possible.

I’ve never complained about the long work hours before because when you love what you do it’s not really work. It’s passion.

However, my passion and career are making it difficult for me to have a social life right now, and I’m a little cranky about it.

I miss him.

I haven’t seen him in almost two weeks. Two weeks!

The last time I saw him, we were moving in such a positive direction, and now we are at a standstill. I still talk to Sebastian daily through text, but it’s not the same.

I need to see his face in person.

Luckily, it’s Saturday, and we have plans. He’s apparently bringing me to his favorite place—at least in the area.

He texted me a few minutes ago saying he would be here in ten minutes, so I’ve been standing outside by the curb waiting for his truck to pull up like the needy bitch I am.

His black pickup finally pulls to the curb, and I barely wait for him to park before I pull the handle and jump in.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He leans in for a hug, and I meet him halfway. He also gives me a quick kiss as a greeting and he leaves his right hand on my leg as he pulls away from my place.

I place my hand on top of his, and we drive onto the highway. I have no idea where we are going, and I know if I ask, he’ll say it’s a surprise, so I don’t bother.

We end up getting off the highway fairly quickly, and then we’re taking the back roads through the South Shore through a residential area that I’ve never been to before.

Sebastian pulls into a gravel parking lot with a parking attendant, and Sebastian flashes a membership card before we find a parking spot near the entrance.

We arrive at World’s End in Hingham, which is a place I’m familiar with but have never actually been to. I’m not sure why because this place looks amazing.

I feel like I arrived in a different century. It’s so serene here, with many pastures and trails, all dirt roads and trails going up and around small hills. When we reach the top of a cliff an hour into our walk, we mutually decide to sit on a wooden bench overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

“This is my favorite spot in the state,” I hear Sebastian say next to me. “After I moved here, I was struggling a little bit. Boston, the crowds, the fans— everything was a little intense. One of my teammates recommended this place after my rookie year. It quickly became a favorite of mine.”

“I can see why.” It’s all wide open with acreage and water views for miles, and not a single person in sight.

“Whenever I feel like life is too fast and overwhelming, I come here to slow down. I feel like I can breathe a little better here.”

I instinctively grab his hand and don’t let go. We are just breathing in the salt air with nothing but small ocean waves as our music.

“Do you come here often, then?”

“Not as much anymore.” After a beat of silence, he adds, “The first few years were a rough adjustment for me. I wasn’t expecting all the attention I would receive, and most of it wasn’t because of my skills on the field.”

I nod because I know exactly what he is talking about. Sebastian Goodick became a very well-known football player in Boston and the entire league, quickly. He became a starter in his rookie season and played most offensive snaps.

Usually, an offensive lineman doesn’t get too much attention unless they are being called out on a penalty or make a major mistake in a game.

However, Sebastian Goodick’s attention had nothing to do with his actual football skills and everything to do with his name.

When you wear GOODICK on the back of your jersey in capital letters and play a good portion of the game, you tend to get noticed. You also get a lot of jersey sales, especially from Boston fans, but also from people who wanted to wear GOODICK on their backs.

However, a few seasons later, Sebastian Goodick received even more attention thanks to a social media post.

It was a picture of the GOODICK jersey and the caption from a beautiful influencer that said, “Can confirm,” with some silly emojis attached.

Sebastian’s popularity skyrocketed.

More females were posting similar sentiments on social media too, sharing their experiences with Mr. Goodick, as he was often referred to.

“I didn’t even know who most of the people that were sharing our intimate exploits were. And it’s not that I forgot them; it just didn’t happen. People were just looking for attention, and they were using me because I was trending.”

“Do you know who started the first post?” I question.

“The hyena,” he says while taking a deep breath out.

“Ah,” I say knowingly. It makes more sense now. She left him for a teammate and then started this shitstorm for him to deal with. “How kind of her.”

He grunts in response.

“I’m sorry,” I say, squeezing his hand in support. I wonder if this is why his walls are sometimes up. Does he have a hard time trusting people?

“It was a few years after we dated briefly, too. I hadn’t talked to her in years at that point.

I guess she was looking for attention; well, she got it.

” He takes a deep breath and continues. “I wasn’t really expecting it.

It was bad timing, too, because I had some family stuff to deal with on top of all this extra attention on me.

I’m okay now. I’m better at handling the attention now or ignoring it.

It also helps that the joke has kind of run its course. ”

“Yeah, it helps that Harry Badcock has joined the league, too,” I kid .

“True, except when we were standing next to each other.”

“Yeah, you had that goodcock badcock situation kind of happening. Made for some great jokes and memes.”

Sebastian just looks at me and doesn’t say anything, so I add, “Not that I shared any.”

“Sure,” he says, like he doesn’t believe me, which he shouldn’t. I shared so many.

The moment is silent for a minute, but then he adds, “I wish I got to pick my jersey number.”

I spin my head in his direction and look directly into his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“People assumed I’d want to be number sixty-nine.

Goodick and sixty-nine. It’s common sense, right?

It happened in high school, then again in college.

When I got drafted to the Revs, I was relieved the number was already taken.

But nope, Hodges automatically switched his number for me.

I told him it wasn’t a big deal, and I’d change mine, but he insisted.

I guess it was nice of him, but is it weird that I was finally looking forward to picking a number for myself? ”

“That’s not weird at all. I can’t blame you for wanting to pick a number like everyone else. What would you pick?”

“You know, I don’t even know.”

Sebastian glances at his watch, and then again, like he didn’t believe his watch the first time he checked. “Shit,” he says, sounding a little frazzled. “I lost track of time. I made reservations for six.”

I pull out my phone and look at the time. It’s five fifty-four. There’s no way we’d make it anywhere in time since we still have at least a twenty-minute walk back to our car.

Sebastian pulls out his phone, stands up, and starts dialing. “Hi, yes, I made reservations at six, and I won’t make it in time…” I hear him say, but I don’t catch the rest of his conversation. He’s walking away from me, nervously pacing while on the phone call.

He hangs up and walks back to me, looking a bit defeated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I had reservations for us in Hingham Harbor but had to cancel. They didn’t have anything until much later.”

Sebastian unzips his backpack and hands me a bottle of water and snacks. Plural.

“What would you like?” he asks while spreading out the snack bags on his thick thighs like a buffet.

I grab a protein bar, and he does the same.

“This is not dinner, I promise,” he says, looking slightly embarrassed.

I put my hand over his. “I’m not upset, I promise.”

How could I be mad at a man who was so engrossed in conversation with me he lost track of time? At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. I could always use an ego boost.

Either way, I’m not upset we are missing dinner reservations. I had a great time conversing and spending time with him, too. Plus, I’m not really that hungry.

He rakes his hand through his beautiful blond hair, creating an even more beautiful, messy look.

I’d love to rake my hands through his hair.

“Do you want to head back to my place?” he says, interrupting my dirty thoughts about him. Although his invitation does not help since I’m getting even more ideas now. Yes, I’d love to return to his place, but instead of sounding too overeager, I respond with a soft “yes.”

“Great, I can make us some dinner. I have a few steaks and potatoes, and I have ground beef defrosted too, so I could mix that with some rice and veggies, or I could order takeout.”

“Whatever is easier for you, and whatever you prefer. I’d love to have dinner at your place either way.”

Sebastian lets out a deep breath. He’s nervous, although I’m not sure why. “Okay,” he says simply. “I’m sorry if I screwed up our night.”

“You didn’t screw up anything,” I say gently but firmly. “I didn’t even know the plan. You could tell me whatever, and I would have thought it was your idea from the start.” I try to set his mind at ease.

“Okay.” He lets out another breath. “Do you want to head back now?”

“Sure,” I say as we turn away from the cliff and walk back to the same trail we did on the way here.

He’s quiet on the walk back, and I link my hand in his, holding his hand the entire walk back to his truck.

* * *

A little over an hour later, I’m setting the table for dinner at his condo. He decided to cook for me, which I have zero complaints about. He looks adorable in his extra-extra-large red apron as he’s mixing everything up in a frying pan.