Page 25 of The Long Game

To most people, they’re just drawings of buildings, hotels, and design concepts. But to me, it feels more like the diary of my dreams.

"Wow, these are good. I knew you could draw, but shit, Lex — I’m impressed." He sifts through each one of the pages. "Is this the house across the street? Carl McKinny’s house, right?"

He starts looking through the multiple pages I’ve designed for that house. It’s the only subject in my binder that has so many redesigns. That’s because it’s the home I’ve always dreamed of owning one day.

"I love that house," I say as I move next to him and take a seat close enough to peer over at the pages he’s looking at.

"I can see that," he says as he studies the multiple pages.

"It’s stupid. Mr. McKinny will never sell that place. It’s been in his family for over a hundred years. I’ve always dreamed of owning it one day."

"That’s not stupid."

"Okay, but not likely."

"You’re smart and driven. You can have anything you want."

I shift uncomfortably on the couch at the compliment.

"Well in that case. I want that house with a husband, two-and-a-half kids, and a labradoodle named Duane."

"Duane-the-doodle?"

"Yeah, why not? You said I can have anything I want."

"You can." He smiles over at me and then looks back down at the drawings. "You’re going to do some great things with your dad. I wish I had your talent. All I’m good for is this super-hot body." He winks and elbows me hard enough to knock me over on the couch.

We both laugh as Tucker grabs my hand and pulls me back upright.

"Don’t you dare waltz into this house with your cocky swagger and think you can kiss my ass and I’m going to just forgive youjust like that." I snap my fingers and smirk back. "You’ve been M.I.A. for quite some time, smooth talker. You’re going to have to earn getting back into my good graces," I warn.

"Well, if kissing your ass is what it’s going to take to get you to forgive me, then I’ll take my punishment now, please." He gives a sexy smirk that’s almost too good to resist.

I roll my eyes in an attempt to seem unaffected.

"I’ve only kept my distance because Luca is pissed as shit at me."

"And he has good reason. You two have dreamed of going to Alabama since middle school. I don’t understand what happened. It isn’t like you to deviate from the plan. You didn’t even give him a heads up."

“I feel like shit about it but Ole’ Miss needs a RB and Alabama already has one. And Ole’ Miss is offering a full ride. Alabama was only going to give me a partial scholarship. I don’t have the money to may the difference and I won’t ask my dad when I have a better opportunity to start for another team. I’ll get more playing time and better visibility," he says. “Luca and I want to play together in the NFL and this is my best chance at getting signed.”

"Ok, I get that. But couldn’t you have said that to Luca?"

"Yes, I probably should have."

He starts to pick at the label on the beer bottle.

I’m surprised to hear that Tucker doesn’t want to ask his dad for the money, but I also understand that being seen by NFL scouts is important. Still, if his tuition was really an issue, I can’t imagine that his dad wouldn’t be able to pitch in.

I’d overheard plenty of phone calls when Chris would call home to talk to my mom and offer her money towards Tucker’s living expenses so I know he has the money. My parents always refused. Tucker has always been a part of our family.

"Tucker, you signed a contract to play for a rival team. You have to explain all of this to Luca so he knows that your goal is to play in the NFL together."

"It’ll all work itself out. We’ve been friends for too long. He’ll get over it,” he says, and then presses the beer to his lips.

"God, you’re an idiot," I shake my head.

"Don’t sugar coat it."

---