Page 11 of The Late Hit
Before I have a chance to elaborate any further, Cody jumps in. “Yeah, dude, if she was with Q, there’s no way I’d be curled up with her like this. Dude would beat my ass. Hell, he still might.”
“So why aren’t you guys downstairs partying with everyone else?” I ask.
“Shit, if I started this early, I’d be passed out before kickoff,” Cody says. “We’ve got a cooler of beer and water, snacks, and other games to watch until we make our way to the stadium around five.”
“Same. I’m hoping there will be a big celebration party somewhere tonight,” Hudson adds.
There’s no denying the campus is eager for the game tonight. Everyone is hoping for some revenge against The University of Loganville Raiders.
Every year, the playoffs come down to the same six or seven teams all vying for a spot in the top four teams in hopes of making it to the championship game.And for the past three years, we've come up short, by either not making the playoff, or losing in the semi-finals. It’s aggravating.
Fans are annoyed. The team is frustrated.
But most of all, the team is hungry for a win.
My seat begins to shake.
Holy shit, is it an earthquake? Wait, does Texas have earthquakes? I don’t know my geography.
My body is now moving, and I can feel my heart rate start to increase.
“Brynn? Brynn, wake up,” Cody whispers in my ear.
What? Why is Cody whispering in my ear?
Jerking upright, I realize that I’m curled up on Cody’s shoulder with my hand… oh god, my hand is on his crotch. “Oh my god,” I jerk away. “Did I fall asleep?”
Cody laughs before standing up to stretch. “Yeah, about thirty minutes ago. Your phone chimed and I saw it was Chloe checking on you. I told her you dozed off. She said to let you sleep until it was closer to us leaving.”
I stand up and straighten out my clothes.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that,” I answer, embarrassment spreading across my face.
“Brynn, it’s fine. Really. I didn’t need to go anyway, I was just watching the Georgia game,” Cody says.
“Shit, what time is it? Q told his parents we’d be over for their barbecue,” I ask, standing up and adjusting my clothes.
“You have plenty of time. I woke you up a few minutes before you girls needed to leave so you could freshen up. Come down to my room and you can use my bathroom.” Cody leads the way out of the game room, which I just realize is empty and walks to his room.
Reaching his door, Cody types in the code to get his door unlocked. This is my first time in Cody’s room, and it’s surprisingly clean. He has a navy comforter and gray sheets. Above his bed is a panoramic view of Truist Park, home of the Atlanta Braves. His desk is organized with textbooks, notebooks, and his MacBook. On his dresser are a few framed pictures that I walk over to check out. I pick up a picture of him with a younger girl. She looks to be about fifteen with long brown hair, hazel eyes that match Cody’s, and braces.
“That’s Leah, my sister,” he says, answering my unasked question. “And the picture next to it is my two buddies from high school. We started playing baseball together when we were six. Now we play against each other.”
“It’s a cool picture. My brother had a picture on the baseball field with his two best friends like this. It’s a special bond,” I say, nostalgia taking over my voice. If I don’t snap out of it, I’m going to start crying. “Mind if I use your restroom real quick?”
“Go for it, B,” he says. “I’m going to change real quick.”
Standing at the sink, I take in my appearance in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, I let the memories of Bryce, my twin brother, leave my mind. Searching through Cody’s cabinet, I find a bottle of mouthwash. Swishing it around my mouth, I spit it out and have instant fresh breath. Reaching into my bag, I pull out my holy grail of long-lasting lipstick, Maybelline’s Innovator, and reapply. This shit is a game changer. Nobody wants red lipstick that smudges or doesn’t last a whole night out.
Feeling like myself again, I make my way out of the bathroom. Cody and I head downstairs and reunite with Chloe, Macy, and, surprisingly, Gregg. Hell, who am I kidding? This is not surprising. It’s typical Macy. I knew she couldn’t go all year without dating.
TheBoydsknowhowto tailgate. After weaving our way through many tents, we finally found the Boyds’ RV. It’s a massive blacked-out motorhome with a silver design on the side. Outside of the RV is a party tent with tables, chairs, centerpieces, a TV, and wait—
“Is that a freaking chandelier?” Macy asks, her jaw dropping open.
“The Boyds don’t skimp out,” I answer, approaching Mr. Boyd. “Mr. Boyd, how are you doing?”
Glancing up from what I presume is his Old Fashioned, Howard Boyd has a powerful presence. At six feet, four inches tall and two-hundred-fifty pounds, with muscles on muscles, he can be intimidating. While I know they’re not my biggest fans, I’ve learned that Mrs. Boyd has a bigger issue with me than Mr. Boyd.
