I’ve got my own place on the third floor, but most of the time one of my teammates is up here.
“Why weren’t you at dinner tonight?” Eating together every Thursday night is a team tradition. It’s not mandated by the program, but you better have a damn good excuse for not showing up. Better to bring your sister, as Jack did, than not come at all.
“The parental units are still in town. They cleared it with Coach at the last minute. I texted you.” Matty lifts his phone to show me his text. I pull my own phone out of my pocket.
“So you did.” I find the sheet coach gave us of players to watch for and find Jack’s number. I punch that into my contacts. If Ellie doesn’t give me her number tonight, I’ll have to get it from her brother. “You still hungry?”
One dinner a night doesn’t really satisfy anyone’s appetite, not when you’re working out three to four hours a day.
“You know it. What you got?”
I rummage around in the freezer. “Burritos?”
“Hammer having a party tonight?”
We look at each other and then the burrito. I toss it back into the freezer. “Right. Nothing says sexy like ripping one while you’re trying to close the deal. Hot Pocket?”
“Yeah, I’ll take two.”
I throw two in the microwave. “Three minutes, bro. Be right back. I’m calling my brother. You need anything else?”
He throws his feet onto the coffee table. “Nah, I’m good.”
I shut the bedroom door and flip open my computer. My brother, Ty, answers the video call on the first ring. He must be watching porn or game film on his laptop.
“When’s your bye week?” I minimize the video screen and open a browser window.
“Not until Halloween. Trick or treat, dickhead. Why?”
“Shit, that’s nine weeks away. Maybe I can come up there. We’ve got a bye at the end of September.” In the search box, I type Ellie's name. She’s on the second page of results. Her header is a picture of her and Jack, and her profile picture is the back of her head. Her profile is locked. It tells me nothing other than she was born in February. She must be twenty with Jack twenty-one.
“Sucks that you have one so early,” Ty says. Later in the year, byes are better for our bodies and our teams. We get an extra week to heal, take a mental vacation, and come back ready to fight a major opponent. Instead, we got a fourth week bye. Sucks, but it is what it is. “Why do you want to come up anyway, and what the hell are you looking at?”
“I’m checking out a girl’s Facebook profile. It’s locked, though.” I send him the link.
“Eliot Campbell? Is that a guy?”
“No, her brother is the guy in the picture. She’s the one with the ponytail.”
“What kind of name is Eliot?”
“She’s the one, bro.”
“The one what?”
“Dude.” I frown. “The one.”
“Oh, shit. Did she pass the test?” His eyes get comic book wide.
“No, I haven’t run it yet. She’s new, a transfer student. I was running in the stadium today, doing my early morning routine.” Ty winds his hand for me to speed up the story. “Her brother is our new transfer tight end from that juco program out west.”
“If she didn’t pass the test then she ain’t the one.”
“I’m telling you the Earth shifted when I met her. I got pissed off that she’d interrupted my workout, and then she started talking about football like it was her religion. She’s got a scar on her knee.”
“Knox, man, you’ve got a weird fetish for chicks with scars.”
“One other girl I thought was hot had a scar.” I close the browser. “It’s a sign she’s athletic. Not scared of getting hurt. Pursuing life with both arms fucking wide open.”
“Or it means she’s fucking clumsy.” He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest.
“This is useful,” I gripe.
“Look, the earliest we can get together is your bye week. You think you can keep it in your pants that long?”
“Shit. I don't know. I practically mauled her on the football field this morning. Her T-shirt got a little wet and even though I couldn’t see a damn thing—fucking sports bras—” Ty gives me a thumbs up in agreement— “I wanted to take her to the turf in front of God and everyone. At dinner, she sat by her brother, and I had to sit on my hands from reaching across and ripping his fucking arm off when he draped it across her seat. I don’t know if I can keep my hands to myself. I know I can’t ignore her. She's too fine. Some other guy will swoop in.”
“Jesus, Knox, you’ve kept it together for twenty-one years, and you’re throwing it away on a girl you’ve known for less than a day.”
“It sounds crazy, but isn’t the whole concept of the one crazy? Isn’t the test that we Masters have based on metaphysical bullshit that could never be proven? We accept it on faith. You believe it and so do I.”