Page 138 of How to Lose at Love

“We seem to be circlin’ back to this relationship business.” My voice sounds harder than I intend it to, but gosh darn, she’s pissing me off a little. “The only reason I ain’t datin’ anyone is ’cause I haven’t had the time. I’m up to my asshole in shit, Ryann. My agent, my brother—even my mother is on my case about the draft.”

“You barely talk about it.”

“Because it’s complicated. I’m twenty-one and being a professional scares the shit out of me, but if I don’t do it now, I lose the chance. I’m not Kurt Warner—I ain’t gonna spend the next ten years playing farm and semi-pro ball in the hopes that later, when I’m actually ready, someone will want me.”

“Um.” Her voice goes quiet. “I don’t know who Kurt Warner is.”

I sigh, picking lint off the blanket on her lap. “All I’m saying is…I’m not really ready, but I have no choice.”

Ryann tilts her head. “We always have a choice. If it’s not something you want, you shou—”

“I have no choice. The time is now.”

She nods slowly. “Okay.”

“This wasn’t my point.” I exhale. “My point was I haven’t given datin’ any space in my head ’cause I have other shit occupying that space.” Simple as that. “It’s not because I don’t like women or sex or goin’ on dates, but seriously, who wants to date someone who’s tired and crabby all the time?”

What woman in their right mind wants to put up with my temperamental tantrums? Deal with my frustrations after a loss (which isn’t often) or deal with it when Eli Cohen pisses me off (which is often enough)?

“I deal with big-kid shit. The students on this campus fuck around on the weekends in a way I don’t get the chance to.”

Ryann is nodding again. “I get it.”

Doubtful, but she gets it more than most. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound like a bear, but it’s hard, you know? Who would want to take all this on?”

Ryann’s lips part. Her shoulders move up and down in a shrug. “Me. I would.”

She would.

Me. I would.

Me. I would.

The words play over and over again in my mind—Me. I would—as I stare at her, speechless.

Color me clueless, but what does that mean?

Football I know like the back of my hand.

Life on a ranch in the middle of Texas is my comfort zone.

I’m used to dudes and my teammates and my coaches.

I’m used to women hitting on me or coming on to me when it’s obvious and plain as day, but for some reason I cannot interpret the meaning behind the words of a chick I’ve been spending time with and have gotten to know.

Sure, we fucked.

But I thought she just wanted to be friends.

“I thought you just wanted to be friends.”

That’s it.

That’s all I can think to say, because my mind is reeling, a virtual whirlwind of a million thoughts, all of them beginning and ending with Ryann naked.

thirty-five

ryann

---