Page 40 of The Girlfriend Game
Nineteen
Zeke
Kendall was right. The past two weeks I spent helping others has left me on a high that I haven’t felt in ages. Although volunteering with these kids and their endless list of questions and boundless energy left me exhausted and craving sleep, it was worth every second I spent teaching them the game of basketball.
And in turn, they taught me a thing or two about life. Or rather, dealing with life’s obstacles. The experience was what gave me the idea for the foundation to help others in need of mental health services, especially those in difficult financial situations, to seek treatment.
I’d called Glen the Prick in PR to get his advice on how I could start the non-profit. He was surprisingly helpful in the process, eager to help out and gain positive exposure for me and the team. It showed me a different version of Glen, whose team took on the brunt of the work. Glen’s attitude toward me wasn’t the usual uppity haughtiness like it’s been in the past. Maybe that’s because I gave him something good to work with instead of a problem to solve.
His team got me in touch with an attorney who specialized in setting up non-profit organizations. Kelly assisted me in all the legal aspects of filing the 501(c)(3) and incorporating the charity.
From there, Glen set up a few interviews with the media and we were off and running. It felt great to do something outside of basketball while using my basketball status to create a legacy.
That high I felt upon returning from Atlanta went straight through the roof when I wake up to read the message Kendall sent me last night.
Hot Doc:Hi, it’s Kendall. I know you’ve been out of town and TBH it’s given me time to think. I’ve decided I want to see where this goes. If you’re still interested, that is.
I respond immediately.
Me:I’m yours for the taking. You tell me the time and place.
Checking the time, I realize it’s a workday and she’s probably in the office already with a client. I busy myself with unpacking and sorting clothes for laundry. Oddly enough, over the course of my therapy, I’ve been taught ways that help me find joy in the little minutia of everyday life. Instead of focusing on all the negative energy and my isolated loneliness, I use the power of positive thinking to change my mindset. It’s not a cure-all for my condition, but it’s another tool in my arsenal to ward against another breakdown and anxiety attack.
Like yesterday, as I was doing my grocery run to stock up on food for the week, I found the perfect avocado, ripe and smooth. So, this morning, I have something that makes me happy as I use it to make my favorite spicy avocado toast for breakfast. Kendall’s showed me how I can find joy and happiness even in the simplest of things.
My phone pings with the text notification and my pulse races with the thrill of something new and exciting about to happen.
Hot Doc:How about this Saturday morning? Meet me at the Lake Union marina at seven a.m. Get a fishing license beforehand. Dress for rain or shine.
I read her message three times; each run-through I try to determine if she’s serious or not. But knowing what I know of Kendall, she’s not messing with me. She wouldn’t do that.
Me:You own a boat?
Hot Doc:Not me, it’s my dad’s fishing boat. But yes, I have my boating license and I likefishing.Gotta run. See you Saturday.
Me: I’m looking forward to it.
My mind whirls at the complexity of this woman. She’s fucking got it all. Who knew that such a highly educated and capable woman would turn me on and turn me around so fucking much?
“What areyou grinning about over there looking like a mad scientist?”
Kendall turns her face to give me a curious glance from where she sits confidently behind the steering wheel of the boat.
A large grin pulls free from my mouth, the cool breeze from the Puget Sound whipping through my hair and over my face. The scent of the brine from the salt water fills my nostrils and the sun gleams over the Sound, waves of royal blue crashing against the sides of the boat.
“You’ve stunned me speechless, is all. I can’t get enough of this badassery you possess, captain. If you must know, I find it hot as fuck.” I motion toward where she sits at the helm of boat, leading us out into open water.
Kendall had just fearlessly maneuvered us through the Ballard Locks, a complex and extremely busy thoroughfare between Lake Washington, Lake Union, and the salt water of the Puget Sound. Based on my limited knowledge, a captain must be wildly competent to carefully slip through the heavily traveled locks, where hundreds of boats, ships, and vessels of all kinds, await their turn to make their way through the passage out into the open water of the ocean.
Although I grew up in a small-town in Washington, a hometown boy, if you will, I’ve never owned a boat. I’ve been out on the water plenty of times, of course, because it’s just part of the Seattle culture. In fact, many of my teammates have yachts or own boats of their own and I’ve attended more than my fair share of boat parties over the years.
But never in my wildest fantasies has a sexy woman captained the ship for me.
“It’s not a big deal. My dad is an avid fisherman and taught me to love the water. It’s also a great place to go when I need a moment to reflect and decompress.”
I stare off into the horizon, all pink with streaks of yellow, as the sun begins to peek over the mountains to our east. It offers a quiet solitude and peacefulness against the backdrop of Seattle behind us. When I return my gaze to her, I see it written all over her face.
Kendall still has concerns being with me.
