Page 58 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“It's a long shot, but yeah.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, her nervous tell. “You were amazing out there today. That block in the fourth quarter?”
“You noticed that?” He looked genuinely pleased.
They were still holding hands.
“I'm gonna grab another beer,” I said to no one in particular, because they'd already forgotten I existed.
I made it about three steps before Tyson called out, “Yo, Kingman, hold up.”
He jogged over, leaving Artie at the bar looking slightly dazed. “Just to be clear, man, you two are really just friends? Because I don't want to step on any toes here. Bros before... you know.”
The ethical thing. The right thing. The thing a good friend would do.
“Yeah, just friends.” The words tasted like ash. “She's single.”
“You sure? Because the way you look at her?—“
“I'm sure.” I forced myself to meet his eyes. “Actually, you're kind of perfect for her.”
“Yeah?”
God help me, I kept talking. “You're both athletes, so you get the lifestyle. Both new to LA, figuring things out. You're from a sports family, so you understand the pressure.” I paused, then added the thing that hurt most because it was true. “Plus you won't be intimidated by her size or strength. Most guys can't handle that she could probably bench press them.”
Tyson grinned. “Intimidated? Dude, she's fucking perfect. Those arms? That confidence? And she's beautiful.”
Each word was a nail in my coffin, but I made myself nod. “She is.”
“Think she'd give me her number?”
No. Tell him no. Tell him she's yours even if she isn't, even if she never will be.
“You should ask her. She'd probably like that.”
Tyson clapped me on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. You're the best.”
The worst part was that he meant it. Tyson was genuinely grateful, genuinely excited, genuinely one of the good guys. If I had to watch Artie fall for someone else, at least it was someone who would treat her right.
I watched him walk back to her, watched her face light up when he returned, watched her snort-laugh at something he said. The rest of the bar, our celebration, everything else faded into background noise.
“You look like you need this.”
Sloane appeared at my elbow with two drinks. Whiskey, neat. The good stuff.
“I don't?—“
“Just take it.” She pressed the glass into my hand, keeping one for herself. “To being a good friend.”
The way she said it made it clear she knew exactly what had just happened. I looked over and sure enough, her camera guy was positioned perfectly to have captured everything. Artie's approach, her stopping for Tyson, my introduction, all of it.
“Turn the camera off,” I said quietly.
“It's for the show. Human interest. The rookie who helps everyone else find love.” She sipped her whiskey. “Very noble.”
“Sloane—“
“Must be difficult,” she continued, moving closer. “Being such a good friend. Watching her with him.”
“I don't know what you mean.”
