Page 25 of Playbook
We catch a ride back to our apartment. It feels too quiet after the excitement of the night. I grab another beer from the fridge and head for the couch. Arch joins me. He lets his head fall back, exhaustion lining his face.
“How’s the ankle?” I ask him. I nudge him to get his attention. He took out his hearing aids as soon as we got home. I sign the words and speak them again.
“Good,” he says but then winces as he lifts his right leg and settles it on the coffee table in front of him.
“You want an ice pack?”
I start to stand, but he shakes me off. “Nah.I’ll grab one before I head to bed.”
A little of my buddy’s usual happy smile returns. “That was some fucking game, huh?”
“Yeah, it really was.”
Silence falls between us. Arch is the only person in the world that I can sit like this with, not saying a word and feeling totally at ease. It’d actually feel stranger sitting in silence by myself than with him.
“I should head to bed,” he says finally. “What time are you heading to the field tomorrow?”
We don’t have practice until eleven, but we usually go an hour or two early if we have any meetings or sessions with trainers. I don’t have any of that tomorrow, but I know he needs to see the trainer for his ankle.
“I’ll ride over with you. I could use some time on the massage table.”
“All right.” He stands and chugs the rest of his beer. I listen to him throw the bottle in the recycling, grab an ice pack from the freezer, and then head off to his room.
I stay on the couch, finally pulling my phone out of my pocket. I go straight to London’s texts, rereading them, then programming her number in my phone.
It’s late, but I decide to text back.
Me
Thanks. Were you at the game? I looked for you during the pre-game warm up but I didn’t see you.
I rest my phone on my chest and close my eyes. A vision of her long hair and pretty green eyes—definitely the color of grass—sits in my mind. When a text buzzes a few seconds later, my eyes fly open.
London
Yeah. We were a few minutes late getting to our seats. The beer line is no joke.
We. She brought someone. I should have assumed that. I gave her two tickets after all.
Me
Does your boyfriend like football?
I’m clearly fishing for information, but she doesn’t call me on it.
London
No boyfriend, but my roommate—you met him at the club—is a huge fan. I think he’s hoping I continue to get your mail so you’ll keep sendingtickets.
The guy that was with her that night at the club. Alec something or other. He does the weather for one of the local TV stations.
Me
Has any more of my mail slipped through?
London
Missing a few pairs of panties?
