Page 18 of Waiting for Her

“Can we just… talk?” I ask, shifting on one foot. I tuck a chunk of hair behind my ear and his eyes trail the path my fingers take.

“I think we’ll have plenty of time to talk over the next, what is it? Six weeks?”

I rub my lips together and blink slowly.

“I… yeah. Six weeks,” I repeat in defeat, my shoulders slumping.

Resigned, he bites out, “Thanks for coming, Bri. It was good of you to support Brandon. We’ll make sure to let him know you stopped by.”

I flinch.

Gutted.

I look around the small area when I hear Brandon’s voice carry over the microphone.

“What’s happenin’, ladies and gents?”

A sense of home warms my heart hearing Brandon say words he’s used for as long as I can remember. We used to tease him when he called people ‘ladies and gents,’ but he never cared.

The crowd cheers and Grady’s family reluctantly turns their attention from the two of us to the stage.

Grady spins on his heels, turning his back to me while he faces the stage.

Dismissed.

“Tonight, we’re celebrating!” More cheers and hoots are heard all around me as everyone focuses on Brandon and his bandmates on the stage.

He smiles at the crowd and raises his hands in the air, indicating he needs everyone to quiet. Brandon flips his guitar around from his back to his front, strumming a few chords and looks directly at Grady who’s already shaking his head adamantly. A shit-eating grin covers Brandon’s face and he nods. “Join me in congratulating my boy!” He points directly at Grady who now has his head in his hands, playfully slumping lower and lower in his seat. Brandon chuckles before continuing. “He’s just completed his first week coaching the shit out of a bunch of punk Warriors and he’s going to lead us to a winning season. Ain’t that right, Grady?”

I watch as Cole jostles Grady’s shoulder. His head gives a little shake, probably from a twinge of embarrassment, but when he shifts, looking over at his brother I can see his mouth curve up in a genuine smile. Drew, who I know is his assistant coach because I’m a Warrior football stalker, elbows Grady, looking at him with admiration. My nose stings as I feel a rush of emotion flow through me.

I missed it all.

“Grady’s like a brother to me, and damn, I feel all proud of how he’s growing up.” Brandon wipes a fake tear from his cheek and clutches his chest. Laughter resonates all around me but all I can think isme too.

Except the brother part.

I don’t have a single sisterly feeling toward Grady Ryan. I may have, a long, long time ago, but those got squashed as soon as I was old enough to recognize him as more. It was the night of our sophomore homecoming dance and another boy in our grade kept asking me to dance. I kept telling him no, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. Grady caught wind of what was happening and grabbed my hand, tugging me into the middle of the dance floor. I still remember the way it felt with his arms wrapped around me.

I’d never felt nervous around Grady before so the butterflies flying around in my stomach was new to me. I felt so safe and protected. I knew he was strong, but my teenage hormones took flight when my hands wrapped around his biceps and Ifeltit for the first time. I remember thinking he had just sniffed me, so I looked up at him. He wrapped me tighter to him, my nose pressed against his chest and we swayed side to side. Being cocooned in his scent, I knew I’d never be able to look at Grady the same way again.

I startle at the sound of Brandon’s voice shouting over the crowd, bringing me back to reality. “This one’s for you, my brother.” Brandon’s eyes twinkle as he lifts a bottle of beer off a bar stool next to him. “May your season lead to Warrior Victory!” he shouts with a smile bright enough to light up the entire stage before the goofball starts singing the Warrior fight song, everyone joining in immediately.

We’re in a bar two blocks from campus.

It’s Warrior country.

Grady glances over his shoulder, his eyes connecting with mine. We stare at one another before someone steps in front of him to presumably say hello, breaking our eye contact. I shrink back a few steps, not looking at where I’m going, and bump into a body. I turn to apologize only to see the face that’s haunted my nightmares since I saw the picture.

Kennedy Johnson.

Nicest, prettiest person I have tried to find reason to hate.

The woman he met through a stupid dating app his dumbass friends had him sign up for.

The woman whose picture was thrown in my face by the one person who I loathe more than any other.

I came home that day, tears in my eyes and looking for sympathy. Only my mom looked right at me and asked what I had expected to happen. Wondered if I thought Grady would never date another girl. Asked me how it made me feel and what I would think if he wasn’t just dating someone else, but marrying her.

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