Page 16 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

“It isn’t terrible, I promise,” Winnie rushes to say.

“What is it?”

“Well…” Winnie sighs. “One of Archer’s friends needs a place to stay. He’s in the NFL, and he had some rabid fans find out where he was staying, and they don’t want it to get out of control. I thought it’d be fine if he stayed in the guesthouse. Archer’s assured me you won’t even know he’s there.”

I take a relieved breath. She and I might have to have a chat about what we consider good news and bad news. Because me complaining about my life being a mess to the internet and it going viral doesn’t really seem like good news to me, and having someone stay at a guesthouse that is fully furnished and at the corner of the lot doesn’t exactly seem like bad news.

Plus, there’s not much I could say even if it did bother me. Archer and Winnie are graciously letting me stay at their new place; if they want to help out another friend at the same time as me, that’s up to them.

“NFL?” I ask, knowing absolutely nothing about football but feeling fairly confident that those letters have something to do with the sport. “That’s fine. I don’t know how much I’ll be here this week anyway.”

Winnie laughs. “You mention that in the video. Or, to quote you exactly, ‘I may not know what I’m doing for the rest of my life, but this week, I’ll be living the life of luxury with an incredibly hot man as my tour guide.’”

“That’s an exact quote?” I squeak, regretting all the drinks I had last night—and that isn’t even including the fact I have a major headache from them.

“Yes. Watch it. I promise it isn’t as bad as you think! You were built for this. Lean into it.”

“If I watch this video and it’s embarrassing, I’m going to be so pissed at you for lying to me.”

“I’d never lie to you. I bet your password is still jellyfish1234—if I thought it was too embarrassing, I would’ve logged into your account and deleted it for you.”

“That’s what friends are for,” I tease, hoping she’s right.

“Love you, Em. I’ll talk to you later, but I’ll go ahead and tell Archer his friend is good to go to the guesthouse whenever. You shouldn’t even know he’s there.”

“Love you, Win.” I anxiously wait for her to hang up so I can witness what I posted with my own eyes and not trust Winnie to tell me whether it was bad or not.

My heart hammers in my chest as I click the video and turn my phone volume up to full blast. The video starts with me before I ever went to Pembroke Hills. The beginning is fine. All I do is talk about getting my life together and finding myself. It’s when the phone camera shakes for a minute and it’s me hours later from earlier this morning that makes my stomach turn from nerves.

“Hi again,” I begin, a wide smile on my face. “So you could say tonight turned out far different than I expected.” A small giggle escapes my chest. “I may not know what I’m doing for the rest of my life, but this week, I’ll be living the life of luxury with an incredibly hot man as my tour guide. Can you believe it?” I pause for a moment in the video, looking at something out of the camera view before focusing my attention back on the screen. “I don’t really believe it myself. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and find out that I imagined the whole scenario, but I know I didn’t. You know when you just have this feeling that you should say yes to something? That your gut is just screaming at you to take a chance? That’s what I did. I may not find myself this next week, but I’m allowing myself the chance to live a little. We’re told too many times in life not to make mistakes, to be too cautious, and I’m over it.”

A loud hiccup escapes my throat as I adjust my position in the video. So far, the video isn’t as bad as I feared, but it isn’t over yet, so I watch to make sure it doesn’t get worse. “I’m over being scared of making mistakes. I want to make all of the mistakes; that way, I don’t have any regrets. This week could turn into nothing. It probably will be nothing, but I’ll have fun and maybe discover a little about myself. And I think we could all use some time to figure out who we are and who we want to be. I’ll keep you posted on my adventures—and mistakes—this next week. I have a lot to learn, like is there really a difference in forks while eating?” I shrug, giving the camera a wide smile. “Now I need to go to bed before I say something embarrassing like I’m spending the week with the hottest—and grumpiest—man I’ve ever seen. You can discover yourself while someone else…discovers you, right?” Another giggle comes from my throat. “Kidding. Good night, fellow adventurers! I’ll be back tomorrow.” I blow the camera a kiss and end the video.

I stare at the still picture of me on my phone. I would be a lot happier with the viral video if I hadn’t made the last comment, but there’s nothing I can do about that. It could be worse—but could be better as well.

I bring my legs into my body and get comfortable, clicking on the comment section so I can see what people are saying. For the next twenty minutes, I comb through the thousands of comments that inspire me to keep being transparent. It feels validating to know there are so many people my age out there who feel stuck, and despite the hangover wreaking havoc on my body, I feel completely content for the first time in forever. Like I actually did something right.

I smile, reading a comment where a girl asks me to describe the hot guy I’ll be spending the week with.

I’m excited about today—and it feels good to finally be excited about something in my life.

CHAPTER 9

PRESTON

I sit in the driveway, my thumbs tapping against my steering wheel as my agent’s voice trails from the speaker of my phone.

“Everyone in the front office is wanting an answer, Preston,” Ryan says, his voice tight. I know I’m making his life far more complicated than necessary right now, but it’s my right to do so. I’ve given my all to football for years. My heart isn’t in it anymore. I don’t want to completely trash my body, and as I get older, I realize that I want to be known for things other than my stats as a quarterback.

“If the front office wants an answer today, then I don’t think they’ll like the one I give them,” I answer angrily, knowing it’s not fair to take out my frustration on Ryan.

He sighs, staying quiet on the other end of the line for a moment while he gathers his thoughts. “I’ll tell them you haven’t decided, then.” It isn’t hard to hear the disappointment laced in every single one of his words.

“Ryan, I really think this is going to be my last year.” I look at the house in front of me, trying not to let the rush of sadness completely envelop me. There’s a part of me that wants to keep playing for another five years, but the larger part of me is tired.

Football was never my biggest dream—it was just something I was good at. The closer we get to the next season, the more I believe I want one final year to say goodbye to the sport I’ve played for as long as I can remember. And then I want to be done—for good. It’s time for me to move on and enjoy life outside of football. I want to invest in more companies and actually have time to have a say in the inner workings of those businesses. I want to take a vacation and not worry about what I can and can’t do according to my contract.

I’m just ready for the football phase of my life to be complete.

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