I’d like another hour to discuss what we’re going to say to Duken to plead our case, but others begin showing up, forcing our conversation to cease.
Practice is an ass whipping we take without complaint. Much to my surprise, even with lingering dehydration, it invigorates me. Every time Peters yells, I imagine him being forced to let us play. Every time he makes us sprint another line, I imagine him being forced to allow Krueger to call the plays.
I pray at the very least, he’ll be forced to let Hudson and Palmer play, even if they have to play his goddamn game.
On my way to class, I send Hadley a text.
Me: Would you consider going on a date with me? I’d like to see you and talk.
Hadley: Probably.
I chuckle, despite my wounded ego, knowing she’s likely smiling as she awaits my reply.
Me: I’d like to take you to dinner.
Hadley: Is it going to involve breaking into someone’s house?
Me: There’s always that chance…
Hadley: I’m available Thursday.
Two days seems like an eternity.
Me: Pencil me in, Cutlass.
I sit through a two-hour lecture with Hadley’s words playing in my head like piano keys. I try to imagine what Saturday might have been like if I’d gone home and allowed her to see the hurt and fear I was drowning in that made Lenny’s invitation seem like the safest bet. I consider what might happen if I enter the draft this year or maybe next year and don’t get picked, what will happen if I stay and she graduates and returns to Vegas. What happens if I do get drafted and leave. Memories of my fights freshman year with my ex rise to the forefront of my thoughts: how I never had enough time, couldn’t leave for Thanksgiving or even Christmas, and how she always perceived it as me being selfish because it was my goal—my dream–not hers.
When the class ends and the professor comments about being prepared, I know I’ll have to check the online notes because I didn’t hear a damn word he said—but I hear Hadley’s, loud and clear, knowing that if she had reacted the same way I had, I’d feel equally hurt.
I want to drive to the house and talk to her, tell her these revelations while they’re fresh in my thoughts, but my meeting with Hudson, Palmer, and Duken is in twenty minutes at a restaurant across town.
I send Hadley another text as I get to my truck.
Me: Did you know there’s a museum in Pittsburgh with some automatons?
Hadley: I did not.
Me: We should go this spring. What got you interested in them?
Hadley: My grandma used to collect cuckoo clocks. She let me play with the broken ones.
Me: I bet you were the coolest kid.
Hadley: I was painfully shy and a bookworm. We wouldn’t have been friends.
Me: Oh, Cutlass. I can assure you, you’re wrong.
Hadley: You’re very chatty today.
Me: I miss you.
Hadley: I’m going to lunch with Katie so I’m going to be busy for a while.
Me: If you need me to fake an emergency, just let me know.
Hadley: She just read that over my shoulder.
Me: You’re lying. You never pull out your phone when you’re with others unless it’s Lanie messaging you.