Page 23 of The Late Hit
“Damn, Eliza. Are you serious?” I ask in disbelief, rubbing a hand down my face.
“Darlin’, I don’t joke,” she says.
Eliza is tough. She has to be tough to work with hard-headed, arrogant athletes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her crack a joke, or hell, even laugh. She’s as professional as they come.
“Let’s just say, your top three teams are looking at you.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter as she continues.
“That’s all I’ve got. Just wanted to check in and letcha know you’re doing a great job.”
Shaking my head in disbelief, the reality starts to sink in. There’s a really good chance I’m selected early in the first round for one of my dream teams.
“Thanks, Eliza. Talk soon.” She disconnects the call without a goodbye.
“Yo, Q,” Grant yells from the stall next to me. Lost in the memory of yesterday’s phone call, I had completely zoned out. Eliza is the only one I can talk to about the draft. Making the decision to stay or go has been incredibly difficult. I know I’ll have the support of my teammates and coaches, but the truth is, I’m not ready to announce. I want the focus to be on this season, not next season. For now, I’m keeping this secret between me and Eliza.
Rinsing the soap off my body and grabbing my towel, I dry off before wrapping the towel around my waist and stepping out.
“Sorry, man.” I step out of the stall with my toiletry bag in hand, getting out of the way for the next guy. “What were you saying?”
Grant chuckles. “I was saying, Dad and I are heading to Arizona over the bye weekend to see my sister. She hasn’t been home since Christmas, so Dad and I are going to surprise her.”
“Surprising her? Dude, is that a good idea?”
Reaching my locker, I slip on my boxer briefs, tossing the towel across the room to the laundry bin.
He just chuckles before responding. “I tried to tell Dad that, but he doesn’t see what the problem could possibly be.”
I’ll never understand why people surprise others. Nobody likes to have someone show up out of the blue, or have people jump out and shout at them. Growing up, I hated going to surprise parties. Once in elementary school, a classmate had a surprise party. The kid was terrified of his own shadow, but his parents thought it’d be a great idea to invite his whole class to a surprise party. He shows up, we all jump out yelling “surprise,” and the poor kid pissed his pants, right there in front of the whole class. He never lived that shit down. People still talked about it through high school. No thanks.
“You have plans for next weekend?” Grant asks.
Both of us finish dressing and turn to walk out of the locker room.
“Yeah, I’m going to Chicago with Brynn. She’s got some family stuff at home, and her parents suck. No way in hell I’m letting her deal with them on her own.”
Grant just looks at me.
We’ve been buddies since the beginning, when both of us lived in the same dorm on campus. Our rooms were next to each other. Whenever we had down time, we were chilling together. Madden tournaments on our floor were weekly occurrences. He chose not to live in the Football House our sophomore year, opting to rent a town house in the same complex that Brynn lives in.
Last year, after a wild party, I might have drunkenly confessed my feelings for Brynn to Grant. Yeah, I spilled all the dirty details. Mostly, that I have more than friendly feelings toward the one girl who is supposed to be my best friend. Grant, being the good guy that he is, has never once called me out on it, aside from acknowledging it the morning after my drunken tirade.
But judging by the look on his face, he’s going to bring it up.
“Don’t look at me like that, man.”
The locker room door shuts behind us. Neither one of us has anyone waiting for us this week. As we head toward the exit, the only sound is our shoes on the linoleum. He’s not saying anything, but the look on his face tells me enough. Grant has been rooting for Brynn and me to get together since we all met, even before the words spilled past my lips.
I just can’t. I can’t bring myself to risk our friendship. Brynn isn’t the relationship kind of girl. She likes her “no strings attached” relationships, and I can’t say that I blame her. College is for fun times, for flings, for finding yourself, especially when you have no idea where you’re going to be after graduation.
“Look, man.” Grant grabs my arm, stopping me from climbing into my car, interrupting my thoughts. “We’ve never talked about that night, but I’m just going to say this once. I’ve never seen you both smile bigger, laugh harder, and just be yourselves like you do when you’re both together. Don’t let her slip through the cracks.”
Nodding, I brush past Grant and climb into my car.
Don’t let her slip through the cracks.
After parking in the garage, I grab my football bag and takeout bag from my favorite barbecue place, Hog Heaven. I’m starving after that game, but nothing that a Hog Heaven sampler platter—pulled pork, brisket, ribs, and all the sides—won’t fix.
