Page 51 of Playing Games

I nod, giving him a thumbs-up. “Oh yeah. I’m swell.”

Hank smirks. “Well, whatever it is, it makes you really fucking fast. None of us could even catch your ass.”

I laugh. “Oh well, glad there’s an upside.”

“For real, though, is everything okay?”

I nod, clapping Hank on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a weird week, that’s all.”

“Okay, dude. You coming to the club with us later?”

I shrug. Honestly, I’m undecided. It’s not abadidea per se. I mean, it might lead to some questionable choices, but it’d surely improve my mood. Instead of committing, I offer about all I’m able to right now—a chance. “I might. We’ll see. Cool if I let you know?”

“Of course, dude. The guys know you aren’t much of a partier, so either way’ll be cool.”

“Later, dude.”

Hank takes off, and I take my time walking through the end zone to my abandoned gear, gathering my pads and helmet from earlier and scooping them up to carry them to the locker room.

A wave of sadness crashes over me, and all of a sudden, I’m decided. I jog to catch up with Hank in the tunnel to the locker room. I spot him about fifty yards ahead, his helmet and pads hanging from the fingers of each of his hands. “Hank, wait up!”

He stops in his tracks and turns around, and I keep running until I meet up with him. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

“I changed my mind. I think I’m going to come out with you guys.”

“Really?” he asks, his whole face lifting with unbridled excitement.

“Really. We haven’t had a chance for a ton of bonding this summer, and hell, I don’t have anything else going on. So, what the fuck, you know?”

“Shit yeah, my dude. Fuck, this is gonna be good.” He pounds knuckles with me as we start walking toward the locker room again, explaining the plan. “We’re going to hit a restaurant first, check out that new club Tau, and then just go where the night takes us. We can meet up beforehand and go together if you want. Like seven or so?” He pushes through the door to the locker room, and I follow him, looking up at the clock on the back wall as I do.

It’s only a little after four, so that gives me plenty of time to head back to my apartment, shower, change, chill for a bit, and mentally talk myself into believing this shit is a good idea. “Yeah. That works.”

“Cool. It’s downtown near the Financial District, so we can just meet here and then catch the subway together?”

I nod. “Cool, man.”

Hank heads for his side of the locker room while I head for mine, tossing my pads and helmet into my locker with just a little more force than I intend. I sit down in front of it and start undressing, trying my best not to think about why I’m so fucking pissed off.

I sigh.

Fuck.

Tossing my clothes and shit into my locker and grabbing a towel, I head for the showers and make quick work of rinsing off the grime and sweat. I’ll take another shower when I get home, one where I can soak and fucking mope, but this one, with fifteen other fucking dudes, is purely mechanical.

Sufficiently clean, I shut off my shower, wrap my towel around my waist, and head back to my locker in silence. I dress in a pair of loose shorts and a T-shirt and toss my duffel over my shoulder before heading for the door.

No one bothers me as I get rid of my towel in the hamper and exit, so I take the opportunity to put in an earbud and crank up some music. It’s old-school Yellowcard, and the frantic cadence of “Way Away” matches the desperation of my mood.

I let myself jam and feel the music as it blares in my ears, all the way down the hall to the player exit, and shove through the back door into the surprisingly still high sun of summertime. The door falls closed with a thud behind me, though I can barelyhear it over the volume of my music, and the street in front of me is mostly quiet.

Maybe that’s why I startle so hard when I feel a tap on my shoulder from behind, and I spin around like a top.

Lexi Winslow is the very last person I expect to see.

I hurriedly take out my earbuds and tuck them into my pocket, the volume of my song still playing slightly in the background. “Lex? What are you—”

She lunges forward and slams her lips into mine, effectively cutting me off and answering me all at once. Maintaining my boundaries, it seems, has paid off in a big way.

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