Page 75 of Keep Me Never
Jesus, that man.
A moment later, Cameron is hauling me back inside and slams the door, and when I turn to her, Ari is there too.
They stare at me, and at the same moment, the three of us lose it, breaking out into giggles and jumping around, and it feelsgood.
This is the first time I’ve had real girlfriends like this, and I didn’t know what I was missing until they welcomed me into their little group, Payton and our friend Lolli back in Oceanside included. I’m so thankful for my long-lasting friendship with Noah or I wouldn’t have them at all. It was a lonely life before them, all my time devoted to my dad, wanting to spend as much as we were blessed to have before he passed, and I don’t regret that for a second.
But I am incredibly grateful to have found this crew now. I might not be the best friend and rather the new, close one, but we do grow closer every day, and I’ll never take that for granted.
Slipping into the bathroom after grabbing a few things from my bag, I look down at the jersey in my hands, then at the hoodie on my body, and a small smile grows.
My dad was the last and only person to ever love me, the last and only person I ever loved. We were a team of two, and I miss him desperately. But as I trace the last name on the back of this jersey with my pinkie, I can’t help but wonder if maybe someday soon I will only miss him and not the feeling of being loved, of loving.
Maybe someday soon I can have that again. Someone to love.
A reason to live.
Maybe everything in my life right now—my studio and the state of it, my overnight grandparent and his offer, the wait I had to go through for the man who just called mebabyfor the first time—is balancing itself out the way it’s supposed to.
Slipping on the long-sleeved crop top I packed just in case, I tug the jersey on over it and smile at myself in the mirror.
Here’s to holding on with both hands.
Chase
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Brady shouts, smiling like a fool as he runs full speed at me, bending at the last second and hoisting me up with his arms around my calves. “Are you for fucking real with that?!” he laughs loudly.
My heart is pumping like crazy, and I swear, I’m lit up like never before.
“A ninety-seven yarder! My boy!” he shouts like a maniac.
The entire team is rushing us, kicking us back and forth until I’m falling between them, everyone pumped the hell up.
The crowd is electrified, screaming and cheering, and the momentum has shifted. We were down by a touchdown, and their offense kept grinding our defense into the ground. Chucking small yards each play until they got the first, all to do it again.
Finally, after back-to-back sacks from Brady, we held them at the one-yard line. Mason came out pissed off and ready. With one look from him, I knew I would be his target.
The ball hit my gloves perfectly, and I was fucking gone.
And I didn’t hit the outside either.
I went right through the middle, depending on my teammates to clear my path and cover my backside.
I’ve never felt my legs fly the way they did, and even as I hit the end zone, the momentum kept pushing me until I slammedinto the padded wall behind the goalpost, where my teammates met in celebration.
As much as I hate the guy, Coach Dolton knows what he’s doing. Those weighted runs and hill sprints are working. My speed feels limitless. There always seems to be a second, third, even fourth gear for me to kick into when I think I can’t possibly go any faster.
Mason joins in on the celebration the second he hits the sidelines, our kicker taking the field for the extra point. “Goddamn, my man! You got turbos in those cleats or what?” He laughs. “That shit was unreal.”
My chest heaves, and I can’t stop smiling, accepting the water bottle when someone passes it over, and I squeeze it over my head, shaking it out before rinsing my mouth and taking a small drink.
And then I can’t help myself. I spin, scanning the crowd. This time a little higher up, since we’re not at home, I find her quickly, having mapped out her seat after warm-ups, and something in my chest, something different than the adrenaline of the game, stirs when I find she was waiting for this. For the moment I’d look back at her.
I wonder if she knew I would or only hoped so?
I hope she knew.
I hope she feels this as deeply as I do.
