Page 164 of How to Lose at Love

I back up a foot, an agitated expression on my face you’d have to be blind not to see.

The video has no sound, but it gets to the moment when Tiffany propositions me. I appear to be shocked, moving back, telling her I have a girlfriend.

Again, the audience has no idea that’s what transpired, but it’s not a warm and fuzzy scene by any stretch of the imagination.

Tiffany closes in.

Rises on her tiptoes.

My face is blocked, but in a matter of seconds, I’m rebuffing her, my hands out, my feet stepping back.

I open the front door and slam it, leaving her standing on the porch alone, in the cold.

She folds her arms across her body, giving herself a hug, probably freezing her freaking ass off—as well as she should have. Who shows up half-clothed at the tail end of fall in the Midwest?

Tiffany stands there as if she’s waiting for me to come back outside, but then…

She turns.

Looks directly into the camera and shrugs.

Bounds down the stairs and is seen walking back to her side of the lawn, disappearing out of view.

What the actual fuck.

Unbelievable.

I mean, I knew it was a setup, but this blatant backstabbing bullshit blows my fucking mind.

Wow.

Just…wow.

Suddenly, Drew is up my ass, watching over my back.

“Did you see this?” I ask him, holding my phone up.

“Yup, it’s gettin’ ’round.” He claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes, a show of support.

Good.

Awesome.

I don’t pay Eli yet because I don’t have a contract, but he’s already worth his commission fee, and I already know he’s going to have my back for the rest of my football career.

Thank fuckin’ God.

Don’t mean to take the Lord’s name in vain, but hot damn, he saved my ass with a single simple phone call and whatever threats he had to make, whoever he had to pay off to air the actual footage.

I’m forever indebted to Eli Cohen.

forty-three

ryann

“A blow job without swallowing is like a birthday cake without candles. Make the right choice.”

– Sav

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