Page 42 of Matched By My Rival
It was the loss of a dream—unrealistic or not.
And maybe Chelsea and Cooper were right. Maybe the only way through it was to find a new dream, a more practical one. It wasn’t giving up, as I’d once thought. It wasn’t defeat.
It was survival.
13
PARKER
Screech lived up to her nickname, shrieking as she tore across the newly green lawn at my parents’ house. For early March, it was a pretty nice day for Nebraska. The sun reflected brightly off Screech’s copper curls, even as a brisk breeze ruffled them as she ran.
I gave chase, roaring, because that was all part of the fun. A few of the other kids at the party joined in, scattering in all directions, squealing and laughing as I dove for them one by one.
The adults sat by the table with cake and presents, shaking their heads. My brother was busy bagging up torn wrappings and gift bags, decimated in the tornado that was my niece. Her real name was Grace, but that was such a nice, dignified name. Screech fit her much better. Debra, her mom, had a sweater pulled close around her thin frame while she talked with a few of the other moms in attendance.
Screech had shed her jacket at the first opportunity, impervious to the chill in the air when there was an Uncle Monster to escape.
I caught her first, of course. She was the birthday girl, after all. I scooped her up and swung her around, growling loudly into her neck. She giggled and squirmed until she magically escaped. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she was off like a shot, and I lunged for another kid, repeating the move.
Kid after kid, until every single child was caught, tickled, and escaped—and Screech three times, because this birthday girl was just a tiny bit selfish about playtime.
“Let’s play Uncle Jungle Gym!” she cried when I begged for a break.
“Nooo,” I said with a groan.
But kids were already surrounding me, jumping up and down eagerly. “Play with us! Please! Play!”
I gave in, holding out both my arms and flexing my biceps. Screech jumped up, grabbing hold of my arm and swinging from it like a bar. Soon, the other kids were following suit, taking turns thankfully. My muscles burned, but their smiles were worth it.
I loved interacting with kids. They never failed to make me feel younger. To see the world in a brighter light. Life was so simple when swinging from a guy’s arm was the highlight of your day.
“Okay, I’m tired,” I said, collapsing to the ground dramatically. “You guys are tougher than a whole team of linebackers, you know that?”
My parents had taken up a spot leaning against a tree nearby, and my mother laughed. “You can tell Coach Jackson you got an extra workout this weekend.”
I’d gotten permission to miss my weekend volunteer hours to go home for Screech’s birthday. My mother could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, and she’d shown up on campus Friday afternoon to drive me home.
The kids continued to climb all over me. “What am I gonna do with these wild children?” I wondered aloud.
“Hey, I know,” Mom said, “why don’t you set them up for a game of tag football? You can practice those coaching skills that might come in handy one day.”
I played along, even though football was the last thing I felt like doing just then. This birthday party had come at a great time to offer me an escape—both from the team and from Simon. I knew that he would probably ghost me at the House Pledge site, just like he had on Thrust despite my compulsion to send him a message at least once a day. I’d made jokes; I’d flirted slyly; I’d even tried sincerity.
I hope you’re doing okay with what happened between us,I’d typed most recently.I know you might want to forget it, but I never will.
Then, as if that weren’t pathetic enough, I’d added:I really like you, online and off.
The off was a bit of a stretch, maybe, considering the hostility between us. But Ihadliked him in the beginning, before he got injured and I ran his routes, before he began to look at me like the enemy. And I haddefinitelyliked his intense kisses.
But I’d gotten nothing but radio silence from Simon.
Meanwhile, the guys kept giving me knowing looks while they taunted me about my mystery woman, which only made me feel worse. Worse about the situation with Simon, and worse that I had to keep secrets about myself.
For football. For a dream I wasn’t sure was a dream. For a dream my parents were so damn proud of too.
As I lined up the kids, giving them each a simplified version of the game rules and some instruction about their various positions, Mom and Dad watched with indulgent smiles. My brother fetched a battered football for us to use. There were no flags, but the kids could just touch each other as in a game of tag.
Then we all watched together as Screech ran across the lawn, shrieking at the top of her lungs. I was surprised the glass in the windows didn’t break.
