Page 62 of Best Year Ever
“I wish,” she says. “That actually sounds delicious.”
Our chats no longer stuck being “friends only,” I let loose my unfiltered thoughts.
“I wish I hadyouand some whipped cream right now.”
“Okay, that sounds even better,” she says, her voice taking on a slightly deeper tone.
It takes a little longer to hang up that night.
Another four days of solid workouts, as well as a three-day OTA, follows. By the time I land in London, there are a lot of numbers in the mix from the last week:
33400 – the amount of calories I’ve consumed
46 – the hours spent training or practicing
5 – the hours spent talking to coaches
4 – the hours spent dealing with Orlando and national press
4 – the amount of matches Rori has won to make it to the Quarterfinals
87 – the number of texts Rori and I’ve sent each other, despite the time difference
My body has finally reset to its in-season baseline, so I brought one of my personal trainers, Ryan, to stay on track. Truthfully, if it wasn’t for Rori, I might have bailed on this trip and stayed in Orlando to keep up the momentum on my preparation for the season.
For my time here, Grace managed to find a rental house near Rori’s, even though she’s staying in Orlando because of business school. Thanks to Ryan’s own planning efforts, the house is stacked with portable workout equipment and healthy foods.
Once our taxi driver drops us at the house, I throw my things in one of the bedrooms and sit down in a chair.
Priority number one is texting Rori. It’s been three weeks, and I’m so fucking excited to see her.
LANDON: Here
RORI: Okay yay! I’m going to try to escape the army of people in the house and walk down there. Julie said she’ll cover for me with my dad as long as I promise to be back home by nine.
Did I mention that Grace, goddess that she is, had found a place not only near Rori’s rental but also only ten houses away?
LANDON: Let me meet you so you don’t have to walk alone.
RORI: I’ll send you our address! I’ll meet you in my backyard. I already scoped out the fastest route to walk.
It’s getting real. I’m going to be able to hold her, kiss her, soak up all things Rori. I head to the bathroom mirror and do a check. Deodorant on, check. Hair reasonably neat, check. Nothing in my teeth, check.
You’re smooth, Battle, I think, internally teasing myself.
Ryan says goodbye a minute later. When I asked him to come, I had explained that this first night I would be busy, so he made plans to head to a pub for a few hours to meet a friend and watch a soccer match.
The house will be empty for Rori and me.
After making sure that I have the keys to the place, I step outside. In typical England fashion, the skies are overcast, but the July air is warm.
I walk in the direction of Rori’s house and pull down the baseball hat I threw on to mask my identity. Granted, the everyday Londoner is going to have no clue about who plays linebacker in “American” football. However, it wouldn’t surprise me to hear the paparazzi are stalking Rori’s house if they’d located it.
My feet move quickly past the ten houses separating us. I see Rori’s silhouette in the backyard. She’s wearing a miniskirt and t-shirt combo, but I can’t make out the details. What stands out more is that she has a bucket hat on, and has seemingly stuck her curls under it.
I cannot help but smile at the idea of Rori trying to disguise herself in a bucket hat and miniskirt.
She turns, and her eyes find me. “Landon,” she says in an excited half-whisper.
