Page 166 of How to Lose at Love

My eyes get wide when a video begins playing.

I watch, transfixed, as Dallas stomps up his front steps.

I watch, transfixed, as Tiffany steps out from where the porch swing is, appearing on camera.

I watch, transfixed, as Dallas frowns and says whatever words he’s saying.

She steps forward. He backs up.

She leans forward, face tilted up.

Dallas moves around her, opening the front door and disappearing through it, slamming it behind him.

I watch, transfixed, as Tiffany stands on the porch, hugging herself before shrugging, staring directly into the camera.

“Oh my God,” Winnie whispers again. “Are you seeing this?”

Of course I’m seeing it, but I can hardly believe I’m seeing it.

Is this a joke?

How…

Why…

“I knew he was telling the truth!” my best friend declares triumphantly, which does nothing to calm the storm of relief racking my body.

I put a hand on the table to steady myself, my legs wobbling slightly.

“Thatdoesn’thelp me, Winnie,” I blurt out, the butterflies in my stomach beating their wings like crazy.

“Well, it should! This is what I’ve been saying all along!” She looks relieved, hand gesturing wildly toward the TV. “Thank God, too. I was starting to wonder if I was blowing smoke up your ass for no reason.”

My hand is still hovering over the table, rag still in my hand. My mouth is hanging open too; I must look like a fool staring at the television.

Then the game comes back on.

Over the sounds of football being played, the commentators break down Dallas’s performance, giving speculation on why he’s biffing it so bad.

Of course, no one uses the words ‘biffing it’, but that’s exactly what they mean.

I stand like a deer in headlights.

“Ryann?” Winnie is waving her hand around in front of my face. “Maybe you should get to the stadium before the game is over so you don’t have to fight traffic.”

I snap out of my trance. “Huh?”

“Go,” Kyle yells from the kitchen. “She said, ‘Maybe you should get to the stadium before the game is over so you don’t have to fight traffic.’”

I look at them both. “You think I should go over there? To do what?”

“I don’t know,” Winnie says honestly. “Wait for him by his truck in the parking lot? Same way you did the last time?”

The photo that ended up on the news.

“Go, you fool!” Kyle shouts, spatula in the air. “Run like the wind, Bullseye!”

Winnie shushes him. “Calm down there, buddy. She’s freaking out.”

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