Page 15 of A Play For The Heart
“I haven’t been totally honest with you both about who my boyfriend and best friend are, and I need some advice. So, I’m about to fess up so that you two can hopefully help me.”
“Sawyer, what are you talking about?” Maren asks, completely at a loss. “They do exist, right? This isn’t some sort of imaginary thing? I mean if it is, more power to you.” She holds up her fist in solidarity and Nathalie chokes back a laugh.
“They’re very real,” I snatch a handful of crackers from the table and shove them into my mouth. I’ve resorted to stress eating. “My best friend is Henry Parker, and my boyfriend is Declan Monroe,” I spit out before I could change my mind. As soon as the words are out, I wait anxiously for their response, sitting on my hands so I don’t bite my fingernails.
Nathalie replies first. “Who?” That’s…surprising considering her job, but as I turn towards Maren, I can tell she recognized the names.
“So, you’re telling me that the players I just spent yelling at for the last four quarters are your best friend and boyfriend?” she asks, face pale, slightly shaking her head in disbelief.
“Wait, what?” Nathalie asks, head swiveling between Maren and me.
“Uh…yes,” I say quietly, suddenly feeling bad for putting her in a weird position.
“Hmm. Alright,” Maren nods, the motion swaying her ponytail back and forth. “That’s awkward, but I’m hoping we can move past that considering I’m seventy-five percent confident I probably wouldn’t have called them names if I had known. I won’t say one hundred percent because I know myself, but you get the sentiment.” She grimaces at me in what must be her attempt at an embarrassed smile, and I bark out a laugh at the sight. I should have known when she called Henry ‘butterfingers’ that I had nothing to worry about. If anything, Henry should worry about her. I have a feeling she’s not afraid to mention the dropped pass if she meets him.
“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Nathalie asks. I do my best to pretend that I don’t hear the hint of hurt in her voice.
“I…um. In undergrad, I made some friends, and I thought things were going well. We would hang out and watch movies. Go to bars. We were a girl gang. Then they met Henry. From there, everything shifted.” I look down at the couch, picking at a loose thread. The story is embarrassing and not something I love reliving. “After that, they would always tell me to invite Henry. They would always ask where he was and what he was doing. Finally, one of them made a move on him and I guess he rejected her. I’m not sure what happened, honestly. Henry never told me the specifics, but not a single one of them spoke to me again. I tried to reach out, but they would ignore my attempts. So eventually I stopped.”
The room is silent. I don’t blame them for not having a response. There isn’t anything anyone could say about the situation that I haven’t thought of myself.
“What a bunch of shit-eating assholes. I hope they get bit by a triggerfish,” Maren declares. Her threat packs a punch given her Viking-esque appearance.
I can’t say I’ve thought that.Also,what is a triggerfish?
“That’s very unkind,” Nathalie adds, although I can tell she agrees with Maren’s assessment.
“It wasn’t the best,” I shrug, trying to downplay exactly how awful it felt. My stomach still churns when I think of how easily they discarded me. “But it’s why I’m not very open with who they are. Especially now that they’re in the NFL.”
“Well, I hope they get a horrible rash in their nether regions as karma.” Nathalie hums her agreement with Maren.
That’s an intense wish.
“So, what exactly did you need us to help you with now that we know the top-secret information?” Nathalie asks, shifting the conversation before Maren tries to curse someone. I admire her ability to change the conversation without Maren noticing. A very valuable skill.
I explain to both of them the texts with Declan and what Henry said on the boat about their schedules. I decide to omit the part where I thought I caught Henry looking at my lips like he wanted to kiss me because I’m still firmly attempting to deny it happened.
“Maybe he has some other position responsibilities that Henry doesn’t have?” It's Nathalie's halfhearted attempt to find any other reason except the obvious one for why he’s blowing me off. Maren takes a much blunter approach, which in the moment I appreciate.
“Yeah, he’s gotta go. Break up with him. You’re telling me you spent nearly the entirety of your relationship apart and he hasn’t tried to see you?” She pauses, waiting for me to respond. Her face tells me she knows the answer already. I don't see why I have to confirm the obvious, but I reluctantly nod. “You don’t deserve that. The person you’re in a relationship with should miss you the moment you’re gone and count down the minutes until they can see you again. Based on what you described, that’s not Declan. So, save yourself the heartache and time and break up with him.”
Nathalie gives her approval to what Maren said and then asks her a question about her job. Once again, I appreciate Nathalie changing the subject, giving me a moment to breathe. While Maren goes on about the inner workings of kelp forests to Nathalie, I can’t help but think that Maren’s right. I don’t miss Declan the moment he’s gone and it’s clearly the same for him, so maybe ending the relationship is for the best. However, I don’t love confrontation and have no idea how to break up with someone.
Nathalie leaves and Maren heads to bed as I finish cleaning up the feast in the living room. As I head to bed, a thought occurs to me. I’ve always counted down the minutes until I can see Henry.
CHAPTER 8
“I’ve been in love with her for ages and I can’t seem to get it right, I fell in love with her in stages”
Me & You Together Song—The 1975
Henry
Liningupagainstthepractice squad defense on the line of scrimmage, I gear up to run the slant play that the offensive coordinator called. With the snap of the ball, I rush forward, then make a sharp change of direction towards the center of the field. I lock eyes with Deon, confirming that he sees me in the open pocket. With a crisp pass, the ball lands in my grip and I take off running towards the end zone. With the sharp sound of a whistle, the play comes to a stop.
“Great catch, Parker. Good throw, Adams. Alright practice is over, hit the showers. I’ll see you all Monday, enjoy the day off.”
Smiling to myself at the compliment from the offensive coordinator, I walk off the field towards the locker room. Heading through the door, I make my way towards my locker. I shuffle through my belongings and dig out my phone. As the screen lights up, I groan.
