Page 98 of Playing Games

“Because what you felt at that party when you saw him with that girl was jealousy, honey,” she says, and even though, deep down, I know that to be true, I’m still having a hard time processing the fact that someone as logical and rational as me could be jealous about anything or anyone.

Admitting that I was jealous feels worse and just as productive as swallowing a handful of nails.

“I have no reason to be jealous,” I respond, and she smiles softly at me.

“No, you don’t,” she answers. “But we can’t always help how we feel.”

A deep sigh escapes my lungs, and I have to avert my eyes for a long moment as my mind tries to process it all. But when my mom gently reaches out her hand to touch mine, I meet her eyes again.

“Lexi, honey, it’s okay that you were jealous. We all do that sometimes. It’s normal,” she says. “And you’re capable of loving someone like I love Wes and Wes loves me. You’re very much capable of that and being in a relationship, and I think your summer with Blake proves that.”

I know she’s right. I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easier to confront the undeniable truth that’s staring me down. The whole idea of love is such a complicated thing for a girl like me. Being in love equates to being out of control. And that’s the one thing I always try to avoid.

I want to be in control of everything. Of data and statistics and routine and schedule. And I most certainly want to be in control of my emotions.

But when it comes to Blake, I haven’t been in control of anything, especially not of how deeply my feelings have grown for him.

“I’m in love with him,” I say, but my words are so quiet that I almost can’t even hear them myself. So, I force myself to say it again. “I love him, Mom. I really love him. And I want to be with him.”

A soft, knowing smile crests her lips.

“But I guess you already figured all that out, huh?” I question, and a little laugh leaves her lungs.

“I had a hunch,” she says, still smiling. “But ultimately, you needed to be the one to decide.”

“I feel like I’ve messed everything up with him. And I know I hurt him. Really bad.”

“No, sweetheart.” She shakes her head and reaches out to hold my hand. “Don’t think like that. We all make mistakes. We all do things we regret. I think you just need to tell him how you feel. Tell him the truth, even the ugly parts of it. I think if you tell him all the things you just told me, he’ll understand.”

I have no idea if Blake will want to hear what I have to say. I have no idea if he’ll forgive me for all the things I’ve put him through over these past few weeks. It’s all an unknown, and while the fear of the unknown is something I absolutely loathe, I’m determined to suck it up and face it head on.

I have to. Plain and simple. Blake deserves that much from me.

He deserves everything, because time and time again, that’s exactly what he’s given me.

Instantly, I get an idea and grab my phone to send a text.

Me: Are you busy tomorrow? I need your help with something.

Her text comes in a moment later.

Scottie: Name the time and place, and I’ll be there.

I don’t know if Blake still wants to be with me, but I know I want to be with him.

And I’m going to do everything I can to show him just how much.

Saturday, August 30th

Blake

“This is our house! This is our year! And Georgia is the first stop on the road to our championship! Let’s do this!” Coach Gordan shouts at the top of his lungs, finishing his speech off with a bang.

The locker room goes wild, most of my teammates jumping up and down and hooting and hollering as they high-five and chest-bump one another. And I grab my mouthpiece and helmet from my locker and give myself a mental pep talk.

Focus, you motherfucker. It’s game time.

The coaching staff leads our team toward the tunnel, and I follow like a dutiful soldier.

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