“Dude, I wouldn’t hold my breath on that.”
“Not going to.” Because we both know that the NFL is a hard ass business. The best get paid insane amounts to keep it going. Not many teams are going to be able to shell out for top talent in all positions. Not to mention the egos involved, which always adds another level of shit that you have to deal with. I rub my sternum and pick up a spatula that resembles a Mickey Mouse head before dropping it back in the bin. “I want a big city that has diehard fans, coaches that don’t suck, and a GM that doesn’t have his head in his ass.”
“An owner that doesn’t want to play backseat coach would be cherry too.” Gray’s grin is wide and wry.
We make our way toward the opposite side of the store.
“So, Anna…?” Gray waves a hand in lazy fashion as if waiting for me to fill in the blanks. “What’s going on with you two? Something’s changed, that’s for damn sure.”
A goofy grin pulls at my mouth. I can’t hide it.
He rolls his eyes. “That bad?”
“Nothing bad about it.” In fact, it’s so good, I wonder if a person can die from pleasure. I’m willing to test the theory. As soon as I can get her to myself again.
We stop before a row of the gleaming steel appliances.
Gray’s eyes narrow. “I don’t understand you, putting this much effort into a girl. It’s like you’ve gone mental.”
I finger a price tag. $1,500 dollars. As a rule, I don’t spend much on myself. On Anna? I wouldn’t balk at $15,000. Does that make me insane? I don’t care. Making Anna happy makes me happy.
“Can you explain to me how it feels to take the ball down the field for a TD?” I ask, not looking up.
“You’re trying to equate the perfection of playing football to getting laid?” He shakes his head. “Are you shitting me? Seriously?”
I smile then, partly because I’m thinking of Anna, but mostly because I know I’m going to freak Gray out, which is always fun. “No. I’m explaining the perfection of being with Anna to playing football.”
“I’m going to be sick. All over you,” he adds with a sour look.
“That’s your problem, Gray. You don’t know what it feels like to fall for a girl. If you did, you wouldn’t question it.” I slap his shoulder. “Now, help me pick this shit out, will you?”
FUNNY THING ABOUT life, it’s so easy to view it from the outside in. We can see the exact point where our friends fuck up, do the wrong thing, are blind to what’s right in front of them. As in, why the fuck won’t they just listen to us and take our advice instead of bumbling all over the place?
We watch horror movies and know when to shout at the dumb girl who goes in the basement to investigate that noise; we revel in her stupidity, feel superior to it. If it were us, we assure ourselves, we wouldn’t be so stupid.
Sure we would; we just wouldn’t realize the danger. Because the truth is, we’re walking deaf, dumb, and blind half of the time. And even though I can tell myself this afterward, after I fuck up, it doesn’t make me feel any better. Because I’m about to do a fuck up royale. With cheese. I feel it in my bones, like an inevitable death I can’t escape, but I do it anyway. And part of me knows this even as I hurdle down the path towards destruction. The bigger part of me, in fact. Does that make me dig in my heels and try to stop? Of course not. I’m the girl walking down those dark stairs into the basement. The truth is, I’ve been her since it all began.
FROM THE WINDOW, the quad is a carpet of green, ringed by copper and gold tipped trees. Branches sway in the gentle breeze and the golden leaves dance. A pretty picture. Students stroll past on their way to one of the many red brick buildings that line the square. It’s all so silent, this vibrant life teeming just outside the window.
Inside, however, I’m facing the firing squad.