Page 134 of Playbook
He pauses and his brows rise in question.
“Can you do one thing for me first?”
“That depends.” He squares off with me to hear what I have to say.
One word.
“London.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Tell me what you need.”
THIRTY-SIX
“You know, the only time we hang out anymore is when you’re dragging me to your boyfriend’s games.” Alec glances at me out of the corner of his eye as we shuffle down the row.
“Oh, please, don’t act like you mind.”
My roommate grins. “Could have at least sprung for better seats. I cancelled a date for this.”
“You did not cancel, you told her you’d meet up with her later.”
“Whatever. Same thing.” His gaze is now locked on the field. “So is there a plan?”
“Showing up is the plan,” I tell him as we settle into our seats. There’s a pole blocking half my view, but the players are so little down there I’m not sure it matters.
“How is showing up and sitting so far up he can’t even see you to know you’re heretheplan?”
I scowl at him. I thought a lot about what Sierra said, how showing up and being there was important, even if he hadn’t asked me to be, and decided she was right. I want to support him, even if it means sitting in the nosebleed section at a game he’s playing while he has no idea I’m here. When he’s ready, tonight or weeks from now, I’ll still be here. Hopefully, he’s ready before playoffs because that’s a whole lot of football in my future. Maybe I should learn some of the rules.
The game is close. Alec tells me the same things Sierra had about Kansas City. Or I think it’s the same. I get the punchline: they’re good. I’m not usually so anxious watching Brogan play, but my stomach is in knots from the second the ball is snapped.
I spend the first quarter drinking the foamy beer to calm my anxiety, then realize at this rate I’ll be drunk before halftime so I switch to water.
The jumbotron zooms in on Brogan as he jogs out to his position after the huddle. His brown eyes have an intensity that he usually reserves for sex, and my lady parts tingle. I miss sex with him. I miss laughing with him. I misshim.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone this much. No, I know I haven’t. I can’t imagine not seeing him or talking to him. He’s under my skin and I want to keep him there.
I hope when he’s able to see through all the hurt his parents inflicted that he wants to be there too. And more than anything, I hope he knows that there’s nothing he could share with me that would make me care about him less.
His parents not loving him makes me hate them with a fiery passion I wasn’t sure I was capable of. It makes my hatred of Chris feel like a cute little grudge by comparison.
It breaks my heart. He’s good and wonderful. Maybe it’s because of what he’s been through, maybe it’s in spite of that.
I know he’s lovable because I’ve never loved anyone more than I do him.
Suddenly, I feel like I can’t sit still. Maybe it’s not about being patient and waiting for him to need me, but about continually telling him all the amazing things I love about him until he has no choice but to believe it.
When people don’t love us the way we want to be loved, we decide it’s our own character flaw. It’s not. It just means someone else is out there waiting for you, ready to love you in all the ways you deserve.
I want to be that person for him. Or at least one of them.
At halftime I clutch my phone in my hands, willing him to call or text like he did the night we met up at the bar after the game. That night changed my life, and I don’t want to go back to before.
“Maybe I should text him,” I say to Alec.
He’s scrolling on his own phone, but looks up with one brow cocked. “No.”
“Why not? He called me at halftime. Remember?”
