Hadley: The crazy pyro type of firefighter like my uncle?
Me: They’re all like that.
Hadley: Do you get along with your parents?
Me: Mostly.
Me: Do you get along with your parents?
Hadley: Disturbingly well. My mom would be perfectly fine if I lived with them forever and my dad would legit build me an adult-sized treehouse if I asked.
Me: My dad insists we all move out when we’re eighteen. It was a rule his parents had, too. My mom was gone a lot, trying to make up for other kids’ absent parents.
Hadley: My parents were gone a lot, too. They went to their 8-5 jobs, then got home and worked on the new company.
Me: Who watched you?
Hadley: Sometimes Lanie and Geoff.
Me: Sometimes?
Hadley: I’ve always been pretty good at following the rules. I’m more like Katie, less like you.
Me: Maybe you should learn to use that sharp tongue and those sharp eyes to cut through some red tape. You might like the other side…
Hadley: Maybe I should find a cutlass.
Me: Maybe you are a cutlass.
Hadley: How do you calm yourself down before doing an interview? I always feel like I’m seconds away from getting sick.
Me: I imagine doing something I like. Something that makes me feel calm.
Hadley: Football?
Me: My thoughts aren’t usually that … PG…
Hadley: You imagine having sex while talking to a room full of people?
Me: Why did your mind jump to sex?
The dots beside her name vanish and reappear half a dozen times. I know her cheeks are flaming red, right now.
Me: Sometimes I think about sex. Sometimes I think about being at the beach, with no expectations or bullshit. Last week, I was thinking about what you sent your brother-in-law.
Hadley: So, find my Zen?
Me: Find your Zen.
Hadley: My class just started. Good luck with your game, Friday.
Me: Think about things that make you happy. Send me a list after class. These are things you can think about before giving your speech.
I sit back in my seat, disappointed the conversation has ended. Every time I talk to her, I find the list of questions and subjects I want to discuss, and hear her thoughts on, grows longer.
I shift my focus to the screen in front of Hudson, my phone still tight in my fist in case Hadley texts me again. Since our offense is built around passing rather than running, it forces most teams to press Hudson, attempting to get to him while closing the lanes so the other running backs and I can’t get where we’re supposed to be so the ball doesn’t move up the field.
“Their safeties are both quick.” Hudson rewinds, without commenting about my lack of attention, pointing out details he’s noticed while running theories by me. Hudson’s lived and breathed football since birth. He’s thorough and notices details most of us overlook, pointing out holes in their defense and potential risks and areas to exploit their weaknesses.