“Don’t you worry about it,” he said, eyeing me closely. “Get to work!”
I put my helmet on and jogged out to the field for some practice with the running backs on our team. With each pass I threw, whether it was a completion or not, I kept thinking about Jocelyn, wondering what the hell she was up to.
Coach would not put up with any nonsense. Was a relationship with Brooke worth my entire football career? There were no laws or regulations against players dating, but Coach frowned on it, especially when he personally helped players like myself.
After twenty minutes, we switched to a quick scrimmage game. Trey and I still hadn’t talked to each other. Luckily, we were on the same team that day. I needed to talk to him and work things out, even if it meant dumping Brooke.
Would I be able to do that to her? Or myself? The fucking was nice, but I also loved hanging out with her. Throughout the rest of practice, my thoughts on the matter went back and forth, confusing the hell out of me.
TWENTY-ONE
Brooke
On the way home from class, I checked my phone again to make sure I hadn’t missed a message from Austin. Why hadn’t he tried to get ahold of me again? Had I made him mad? Was he done with me for real this time?
Doubts and self-doubt had cursed me since I was a little girl back in Indiana where I grew up. My fears were one of the reasons I had decided to go to college in New York, even if it was Buffalo not NYC.
Should I call him? Nah. His loss. A break might be good for us.
When I reached the front door of my apartment, I heard loud dance music coming from inside. Whenever Jocelyn played that techno-shit, it meant one thing, she was likely drinking.
I considered walking to the library to hang out for a while, but I didn’t like the idea of running from my own home, especially not because of someone like Jocelyn.
As soon as I opened the door and walked in, she jumped up from the couch and stumbled toward me. Here we go. I set my backpack down on the floor.
“Brooke!” she said, slurring the words.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She threw her arms around me and squeezed.
“I live here, silly.”
“Don’t you have work tonight?”
“Not tonight,” she said, letting go of me. “Don’t you wanna hang out with me?”
“Don’t start,” I warned, walking toward the kitchen.
She followed.
“Have a drink with me,” she said. “We never drink anymore.”
“Because I work and go to school now. You know I don’t have time.”
“You make time for Austin. Why can’t you make time for me?”
I stopped near the kitchen table and turned to face her.
“Okay. I’ll have a drink or two, but I’m not getting drunk.”
She smiled and clapped her hands together rapidly.
“I’ll get the wine.”
With a sigh, I sat down and waited for her to return. She did, a minute later, carrying a box of wine, our favorite brand not because of its taste or quality but because of its low price.
She dumped the box on the table.