Page 57 of The Way We Score

Olivia

Hey, I’m in the city. Would it be possible to get together?

My knee bounces as energy zips through my veins, and my stomach is tight.

Jack had me pretty much convinced, and all during the game, I kept thinking about ways I might approach calling her out of the blue.

I even rehearsed a few different opening lines. I didn’t like any of them, but now it doesn’t seem to matter. I should probably question this, but I don’t. I’m too fucking happy.

Hey—it’s absolutely possible. What are you doing in the city?

Gray dots float on my phone screen then disappear. Thenthey’re back, and I wonder if she’s about to send me a big long text or if she can’t decide what to say.

I can relate to not knowing what to say. It’s totally out of character for us, but a lot has happened.

Finally, her reply appears.

Olivia

I’ll explain when I see you.

Short and sweet. Okay.

Sounds good. Want to come to my place? I’ll send the address.

Olivia

Yes, thanks.

No thanks necessary. I’ll be glad to see you again.

I wait, but she doesn’t reply. So I send her my address.

She’s probably here for work, and she wants someone to show her around the city. I can do that. We have another game on Sunday, and I wonder if she’ll be here long enough to go.

I could offer for her to sit in Johnson’s box with Maddy. I bet Maddy would like Liv. Maddy’s from Atlanta, and she always likes to meet “home girls.”

I imagine Liv in the box wearing my jersey, watching me play, and my chest squeezes. I like that a lot.

She could never do it in high school being dance captain and all. Not that I’m complaining. I never minded checking her out on the sidelines with the other dancers, looking like the finest thing I’d ever seen in that skimpy uniform, kicking her long, muscular legs all the way to her nose.

We’re pulling up at my building, and I hop out at the curb, hoping I have time to prep the place before she gets here.

My apartment is on the top floor of a steel and glass high-rise in Midtown. It’s one of the newer buildings, and I have a private elevator, which I shared with Logan when he lived here.On the way up, I alert the doorman that I’m expecting a guest, but I also text her the code.

At the stadium, I took a quick shower and pulled on jeans and a white T-shirt before leaving. Hanging my jacket in the front closet, I hurry around, scooping up my discarded socks and jogging pants from earlier in the day.

I grab the shirt and jeans I left on the floor of my bathroom yesterday and throw everything in the laundry hamper. A cleaning service comes once a week, but it’s been almost a week since they’ve been here.

While I’m in the bathroom I do a quick check, lowering the toilet seat and replacing the empty paper roll.

Crossing the wood floors through the living room, I lift my chin and sniff. The sofa is leather, as is most of the furniture. The kitchen is stainless steel with gray marble. I don’t detect any funky smells, but I still dig in a drawer until I find a lighter.

Dylan sent me a basket last year at Christmas, and I pull out the pine-scented candle I’ve never used. It’s barely fall, but I’d rather the place smell like pine trees than athletic socks.

I only have a few beers in the refrigerator. Scratching my chin, I look at the clock and wonder if I have time to order up a bottle of red wine or rosé or something. The only thing I saw Liv drinking at the wedding was that Fireball cocktail.

A bottle of Jack Daniels is in the cabinet, mostly because I’m not much of a whiskey drinker. I’m about to pick up the phone when a soft knock sounds on the door, and I decide beer and whiskey will have to do. Or I could offer to take her out… I wonder if she’s had dinner.

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