Page 108 of Jaded

“Hell yeah!” Everton chirps, and beside him, Skyler fist-pumps the ceiling.

Charlie punches Nat on the arm. “No excuses now.”

Damn, they all love him. Everybody’s chiming in, “C’mon, Taylor! Say yes! C’mon!”

So finally, smiling, he holds his hands up. “Fine. I’ll come for a drink.”

“Shots!” Everton yells, and even Syd’s laughing.

“You have to make him do it!” She leans in towards me. “I want a full report in the morning. Dad does shots, or he has to go out again.”

“Sydney, I will make it my personal mission to ensure your dad has a fun night,” I say, and I try not to read too much into those words.Obviously I’m not gonna like, blow the guy or anything. “Shots, drinks, good music, maybe some dancing.”

“Avery was right,” Syd says. “You’re a good influence on him.”

Nat glares, and Syd and I laugh. Like conspirators in some nefarious plot. Why do I love it so much?

A small army of waitstaff arrives with massive bowls of pasta, and none of us says anything for a long time.

Dessert follows dinner, and we stuff unthinkable quantities of food into the hollow cavities of our bodies whilst reminiscing on the highs and pitfalls of the game.

Then, of course, talk turns to the upcoming open tryout.

“You think they’ll actually be able to keep up?”

“I think we’re gonna get our ass kicked . . .”

“No way some townie old dudes will be able to hack it . . .”

“Imagine if we actually found somebody . . .”

I don’t miss the way Syd nudges her father in the ribs with her elbow. She knows, I realize. She knows who he is.

To my surprise, though, it’smeshe leans in towards. “After you get him good and drunk, talk him into tryouts too?”

“You got it, ma’am.” I press two fingers against my forehead in a salute. “As his personal assistant, I’ll ensure his schedule’s set to your liking.”

All things considered, it’s not a bad night, coming off a win, surrounded by friends and teammates who kind of almost seem to like me.

And then, of course, there’s Nat. Who, for all his being convinced he doesn’t belong on this team, is practically the center of the party, bathed in the team’s attention.

They call to him across the table. Crack jokes his way. Slap his shoulders, lift their drinks, tease him . . .

And he draws Syd in right along with him—so her shy smiles turn into bold smirks and brilliant one-liners.

You can tell that girl spends a lot of time around dudes.

Ironic, right, that I was the one brought in to lead this team, to be its captain, its center, its guiding light—and yet the one person who’s not actually part of this team is the one person, I think, who belongs here most.

This team is so much more than a job or a dream to him—it’s his family, and he cares about it in a way no one else ever will.

He’s like . . . the embodiment of Day River.

My being here, it’s just one step on a long staircase of steps leading to a selfish dream. This was never my end goal, my final destination. I always planned to stop here for only a short layover on my way to the pros.

One day, this dinner, those green eyes, that white smile, those tattooed fingers—now wrapped around Syd’s shoulders to draw her in close—will be but a memory.

Why does that thought cut to the marrow?

---