Page 53 of The Goat in the Bedroom
Friends.
And I was being ridiculous. He'd confirmed he didn't think of me like that. I never, ever would have asked him to help me with this whole dating and intimacy thing if there was even a chance he had feelings for me.
It was just biology. Men got erections from everything, morning wood, random boners during the day, a strong breeze. Seeing any naked woman would cause that reaction. It didn't mean anything specific about me.
After I'd escaped the bathroom and retreated to my room to process... whatever that was… I found a box on my bed. It was wrapped in tissue paper like something precious, with a little bow on top.
Inside was a jersey. Not just any jersey, a Bandits jersey with G. KINGMAN across the back and his number, 62, below it. There was a note in his handwriting:
Can't wait to see you wearing this in the stands. - G
Of course he'd get me a jersey. That's what friends did. Flynn probably got Tempest one too. Not that they were just friends. Whatever.
I pulled it on over my towel and looked at myself in the mirror. It was extra roomy on me, which I appreciated. It lookedlike it could actually fit Gryff, but somehow that made it better. Cozier. Like being wrapped in a Gryff hug.
Not that I was thinking about Gryff hugs. Or Gryff's towel situation. Or Gryff's abs with water droplets running down them.
Nope. Definitely not thinking about any of that.
The next morning, Gryff was up and out of the house before I was even awake, but the house became ground zero for the Kingman family convoy headed to the twins’ first preseason game.
To make sure the boys felt well-loved, it took several cars to move four aunts, three sets of grandparents, two girlfriends, one sister, and partridge in a pear tree.
I wasn’t the only one repping Gryff with my jersey, the whole group was pretty even with the twin love. But AbuelaNovela had gone fancy, which was her natural state. Her sequined jersey with rhinestone number one featuring her own moniker caught the sun like a disco ball, temporarily blinding anyone who looked directly at it. “The one and only AbuelaNovela, darling.”
Nobody was going to tell her the Bandits’ quarterback Jalen Heals was also number one.
Jules wore her custom jersey that had both the twins’ numbers across the back and the name FLYFF. “I called them that when I was little, Flynn plus Gryff equals Flyff. It stuck.”
“Smart,” AbueLeo said, then looked at my jersey. “And you wear Gryffen's number. Very supportive... friend.”
“Exactly. Friend. That's what I am. His friend who lives with him and supports his career. Platonically.”
Is verbal diarrhea a thing? Do they make pills for it?
Mac Jerry was handing out our tickets. Instead of being squirreled away in box seats we were going to be right in the thick of it with amazing fifty-yard line views. His wife, Sara Jayne, pulled me into a one-armed hug.
“Ah, my fellow tall girl who understands the struggle of shower heads and jeans shopping, you can sit next to me.”
She was gorgeous, as tall as me, with the kind of confidence that came from being a supermodel who'd made it in an industry obsessed with size zeros.
“Oh my god, yes,” I said, immediately bonding. “And don't get me started on people asking how the weather is up here and short men who want to go mountain climbing.”
“Ooh, I see we need drinks and a whole evening to discuss that and how you are liking LA LA land.”
Once we were in our seats, I found myself in between Sara Jayne and Tempest. While everyone else was distracted with food orders and getting settled, I took advantage of the moment to pick Tempest’s brain.
“Can I ask you something about... a hypothetical situation?” I asked Tempest as quietly as possible. She was the only one who knew about these exercises Gryff and I were doing. Hopefully she'd help me figure out if his reaction in the bathroom had been a sign that I was totally wrong about, well, everything.
“Ooh.” She glanced around to see if anyone else was listening. “About what might happen when one stares deeply into the eyes of very trusted, sweet, muscle-bound, caretaking certain football player?”
“Well, hypothetically, say after several days of practicing things like that, let's say, again hypothetically, someone saw someone else naked in the bathtub and... an involuntary physical reaction happened.”
“This is a little too hypothetical. You're going to have to actually tell me what happened.”
Crappola.
“Gryff saw me naked in his bathtub and he got... you know....” I wave my hand around.
