Thanks for nothing Hammer. “I told her that I loved her.”
“There’s your problem.”
“What’s my problem?”
“Your belt’s gotta match the shoes,” Hammer says.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I grind to a halt and put my hands on my hips.
“Means your actions gotta line up with your words. You gotta do the love stuff if you mean it.”
“Did you read that in your women’s magazine?” I ask suspiciously.
“No,” he perks up, “Do you think that’s an article I should suggest? Top ten ways to show her you love her?”
My lips quirk up in a half smile. “Yeah, that’s probably a pretty good article.”
“Shit, I should have written it for Valentine’s Day instead of the ‘Best Ways to Give a V-Day Blowjob.’” Hammer slaps me hard on the back. “Don’t worry. I know you’re going to win her back.”
And Hammer’s belief in me actually fills me with relief. I am going to make this right with her. I did it with the team, and I can do it with her as well.
Failure is no option here.
35
Lucy
“I have a cold coming on,” Heather says ominously as she pulls into the hotel parking lot after dinner. Even though she hates her old man, she doesn’t mind the things he buys her. The Mercedes coupe is so luxurious, I nearly cried when I took a seat the first time.
“Tell the cold to stay away. Believe it away, Heather.”
“You mock, but deep down you know I’m right. We rocked today.”
We did rock. We’ve rocked all weekend and now we have only one match left before we can crown ourselves Midwest Regional champs and claim our spot in the national tournament next month.
“We were pretty awesome,” I admit. I roll my neck from one shoulder to the other. Despite our wins, I’m still tense. You would have thought I’d be euphoric by now, but I’m not.
Heather puts the car in park and then pulls down the mirror to inspect her face. “Do I look pale to you?” She turns to me.
“No, but if you don’t feel well, you should lie down.”
“I feel sick.”
“It’s called nerves,” I explain wryly. It’s somewhat heartening that Heather has some. For a time there, I felt like she was impervious, a hardened shell built up as a defense against her dad’s careless neglect. “Tomorrow’s the Championship round, and you’re feeling what commoners call anxiety.”
“Could be.” She looks doubtful. “I think we should do something to really psych ourselves up for the big match.”
“You just said you felt a cold coming on? Shouldn’t a good night’s rest suffice?” I sounded like a fifty-year-old mother already. I should’ve bought a pair of orthotic insoles at the drugstore along with some menopause medication.
“No, because we’re in Chicago, duh. Or—” She snaps her fingers and smiles brilliantly—evilly almost. I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “We could go on a road trip.”
I know immediately what she’s talking about. “No.”
“I heard a certain football team is having a retreat an hour away.”
“No.” Except this time my no isn’t as firm because I miss Matty so much. I want to see him, but I figured I’d get the tourney out of the way and then throw myself at his feet and beg for him to take me back.
I’m not sure of my reception, and I didn’t want to suffer a crushing “no” blow right before competition started. If I’m lacking confidence, that wouldn’t be the way to go about gaining more.
But, as Heather knows because Hammer waited for me outside of our last practice—does everyone know my effing schedule?—Hammer thinks Matt would forgive me in a heartbeat. Since then Hammer’s been texting me.
Hammer: Matty’s a good guy.
Hammer: I was there. He didn’t touch those girls.
And
Hammer: Luuuucy. Not saying he misses you, but if you don’t come soon, he’s gonna turn into a pickle.
Pickle? I assume that’s due to heavy drinking. But regardless of his preserved status, Matt has not texted me once. Or called. Or showed up anywhere he’s showed up before. Even Keith noticed it at the Brew House, asking where the jock crew was. I pretended I was too busy making foam angels to respond.
“Come on, Luce,” she cajoles. “You know you want to. Plus, you getting back together with Matty would make you soar tomorrow.”
“Soaring isn’t a thing. Soaring is what happens to your brain on some quality molly, not from confronting your ex.”
“Hammer’s his best friend. He wouldn’t be texting you if he didn’t think you had a chance.”
“Maybe Hammer’s playing the long game and this is Matt’s revenge. They get me to show up and then I’m confronted by a full-on orgy in the living room. Hammer jumps up, ‘Surprise, bitch! No one here really misses you, but if you want a piece of Matty, you can stand in line behind ho number two.’”
Heather smothers a laugh. “Do you always skip to the worst-case scenarios?”