Page 16 of A Little Too Forward

Even to me, I sound a bit whiny, but it’s the truth. The last month has been difficult juggling everything and being there for the people I care about.

“First, that’s my literal job, Max. To help you sort this shit out. So let’s talk it through.” I nod, about to agree with her, when Mable raises a dark green, sparkly nail at me. “But before we do that, who the hell is Sabrina?”

“Oh,” I laugh, feeling a little embarrassed that she was mentioned in my list. It’s one thing to be constantly thinking about her again, another to admit that out loud. “She’s. Umm, well, she was…”

“Good God, man, spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

“She’s just a childhood friend who’s back in the picture now. At least, I think maybe she is. We ran into each other a week ago, and she was going through a career change and freaking out about it, and it’s just kinda stayed with me.”

Mable’s glare turns more into a squint as she looks at me, taking in my words. Again, I feel like I’m under a microscope with her.

“You’re talking about Sabrina Sutton. The sports reporter.”

“Yeah,” I say slowly, a little freaked she knows her.

“Don’t give me that look, Daws. You two went viral last week, remember?” I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t. There’s always something being posted online about me—good and bad—that I don’t pay attention to. I only run one of my own socials, and even that application has the notifications paused.

“She hasn’t found a new gig yet? That’s surprising.” Mable isn’t talking to me. Instead, she begins tapping away on her phone. “Anyway, Max, if you’re overwhelmed with all the new sponsorship stuff, I can tell you right now that you should do the Battlements Inc. Athletic wear one and the food delivery one. You use both, you believe in both, and there’s no scandal waiting to happen with either. Good?”

Dropping down onto a nearby bench, I blink at her in amazement. “Umm, yeah, both of those sounds good.” And were actually the only two that stayed top of mind with me. Damn, she’s scary good.

“Good. I’ll make the calls and let you know.” She turns on her heel, about to saunter out of the gym, when I stop her.

“Wait.” The word is out of my mouth before I can think better of it. Mable turns again with an eyebrow raised.

“I have to hunt you down after days of being ignored, and now you want me to stay and hear something new?”

“Damn it, Mable. Could you chill your psychic abilities for just a moment? I wanted to touch back on…the documentary.”

She doesn’t move or say anything for a whole minute. I think I’m totally fucked, and maybe she’s trying to find the right words to tell me I missed out.

“I’m listening,” she says, clasping her hands over her stomach. “I thought the documentary was off the table. Something about an invasion of privacy and having a stranger snoop around in your personal sanctuary.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“No you haven’t. You still hate the idea. But there’s a new component now. Tell me.”

“I’ll do it. Under one condition.”

I outline my idea, and Mable doesn’t immediately veto it, so I might be onto something. When I’m done, she gives me a slight nod.

“It’s not a bad idea, but it’s going to take a lot of convincing.”

“On whose end?”

“I think you know.” She looks down at her buzzing phone. “I’ll give you an update soon,” she says over her shoulder, already heading for the door. “Pick up the damn phone next time.”

“I will!” I shouted across an empty room, knowing she heard me.

There’s a giddiness tingling inside me. I feel like I could run a marathon or play a game of hockey right now. All by myself. I’m so pumped!

Yet I know it’s not going to be that simple.

In the days to come, I’m sure I’m going to get an earful. Bright side to that impending yell-fest that’s coming my way: Sabrina is going to start talking to me again. Even if it is at a high volume.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SABRINA

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