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Hartley

Goldie: Are we still on for the pre-game run through today?

Me: Yes, want me to pick you up?

Goldie: No, it’s okay. I’m going to head back to get ready with Vi after I sketch what I need.

Me: See ya soon.

T hings have been. . . normal since Liza and I became whatever we are.

In a way, we’re still in limbo. She’s not officially my girlfriend, yet, but she’s more than my friend.

I made that much clear over winter break.

Hearing her confess her feelings warmed my chest. All the hard work I put into throwing myself into making us work paid off.

I always wanted to think she saw me as more than an annoying friend she couldn’t escape or a carbon copy of her toxic ex, but hearing her words changed everything.

We’ve both been tied up with school, football, and art, but when we do see each other, I can’t keep my hands off of her.

When classes resumed after winter break, Liza went to the Center of Student Excellence and resigned from the tutoring gig.

She said her moral compass wouldn’t allow her to accept money for tutoring since we’ve crossed professional boundaries .

Her words, not mine. Luckily, we still study together at the apartment, and since she’s started helping me, my GPA has risen enough to temporarily lift the academic probation I found myself on at the beginning of the year.

Still staring at my phone like a lovesick puppy, I shake my head and click it off to gather a bag together to head to the field in a few minutes for pre-game walkthroughs.

“Hart! Are you still here?” Violet’s soft voice carries through the echoey apartment into my room.

“Yeah, come in. I’m getting my gear together.

” The pitter-patter of her slippers on the hardwood floor treads closer to my room.

Knocking gently on the cracked door, she peeks in from behind the white wood.

Her beady eyes look tired, in a way I haven’t seen them look in a long time.

“What’s going on, Vi?” Making quick strides across the room, I meet her at the door and open it fully for her to come in.

She slips in, shoulders slumped, and drops down on my bed.

“I don’t know,” she lets out while she gnaws on her red fingers that have been picked over for days. “I haven’t been able to sleep, and I constantly feel like something bad is about to happen.”

Plopping next to her on the bed, I develop a game plan for how to talk her through this one.

Violet’s OCD hasn’t reared its ugly head as much since her and Ryan have made things official.

Maybe that’s because he sees more of it than me now, but regardless, I hate seeing her this way.

“Wanna go through the grounding techniques?”

“It won’t help,” she snaps.

“Let’s just try.” I rest my hands on my knees and continue, “They help me clear my head before a game, anyway.” She tilts her head up and nods. “Five things you can see.”

“You, the comforter, the floor, your messy clothes everywhere, and my shoes,” she lists out like a robot. She knows the drill by now.

“My turn. I see my football bag, the pillows, the door, my gray joggers on the floor, and the TV.”

We continue the countdown all the way until we reach one. By now, her breathing has slowed and her eyes aren’t as dilated as when she entered. “Does Ryan know?”

“About this?” She points to her head and shoots me a quizzical look. “How could he not?” She laughs to hide her true feelings about how much this disorder affects her.

“I just want to make sure he’s supporting you through it. That’s all, Vi.” I care about Vi like my own blood. She’s the only thing close enough to family that I have, and if Shane can’t accept her for everything she is, then he and I are due for a one-on-one.

“He does.” Her eyes ease into a gentle memory and her lips turn up into a small smile. “Thank you for this.”

“You never have to thank me. That’s what brothers are for.

” Pulling her into a tight side-hug, I squeeze her before jumping off the bed and slinging my duffle back over my shoulder.

“I’ll see you tonight, right? Liza said she’s getting ready with you.

” Her lips purse into a curious look, as if she’s caught me in some sort of trouble.

“We’ll be there.” She winks before scurrying back into her room.

I make it to the field just in the nick of time.

Even if it meant being late, I would never abandon Violet when she needs me.

Football doesn’t trump family. I sprint out the car, spend less than five minutes in the locker room to throw down my stuff, and haul it onto the field with a minute to spare before Coach’s first whistle.

I take the minute to myself to stretch out my hamstrings and quads on the sidelines while glancing into the stands to spot my girl front and center with her sketchpad on her lap. “Goldie!” I shout.

Her head snaps up, popping the bubble she was in, and the smile that crosses her face should be painted across my heart forever.

She shuts her work and waves at me with her art pencil weaved between her fingers.

Glancing back, it looks like Coach is in a heated conversation with Ryan, so I take the rare opportunity to jog over to her and climb up the metal bars, putting us face-to-face.

“What are you doing?!” She giggles and cups her hand over her mouth. “You’re crazy! Coach is going to make you run laps for being distracted on game day.”

Running my hand through my long, disheveled hair, I place my chin on the metal bar in my best attempt to feign innocence.

“Worth it.” She stands from the metal bleachers and walks to the railing, placing her bare hands over my gloved ones.

Her nose is rosy pink from the Florida sun, and her hair is neatly French braided with small whisps framing her golden skin.

“I want you to have something.” Reaching under my pads and into my undershirt, I pull out the chain I haven’t gone without for one game since high school.

A small silver #13 hangs from the worn metal.

I unhook it and hold the memento in front of her.

“What is this?” She gently strokes the chain in my hand and looks up to me with a confused look.

“It’s my lucky charm.” Reaching around her bare neck, I clamp the chain in place. It hangs lower on her, but the sight of Liza wearing my number around her neck jumbles my insides like never before. “I want you to wear it.”

She sniffles, choked up at the intimate moment. “Hartley. . .” Her eyes flutter as she looks down at the necklace. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” My worn glove reaches out to rub the necklace now splayed across her collarbone. “You’re my lucky charm, now.” Her hand flies to her chest and holds the necklace in place.

“I love it.” Her throat works up and down as she swallows all the emotions and feelings I see on her face, but she struggles put it into words. “This means a lot to me.”

Suddenly, the piercing sound of Coach’s whistle blows, and he screams, “Knox, get down here, now!”

Liza’s eyes grow wide as she scurries back to her seat and shoos me away with her hands. “Go!”

I jump backward off the railing and sprint to the huddle.

I didn’t plan on handing over one of the most important things I own to the girl who technically isn’t even my girlfriend, but Liza is special.

If she only knew she’s every single word Shakespeare wrote into one. The one’s I paid attention to at least.