Page 13 of A Play For The Heart
I’m sure it was obvious to anyone with eyes that I was in a horrible mood but no one was bold enough to acknowledge it. Except Jack. Having to interact with Declan will only make it worse. Right now, I am a storm cloud. If I have to speak to Declan, I will become a full-on category-four hurricane. This is why I’m choosing to sit in my hotel room rather than hang out with some of the guys. And as I lay in my bed, the same question is running through my mind.
How did someone as arrogant and selfish as Declan end up with someone as kind and giving as Sawyer, while I ended up in love with my best friend who’s dating a world-class jerk?
I’m not sure I’ll ever understand.
CHAPTER 7
“And I know it makes you nervous, but I promise you it's worth it, to show ‘em everything you kept inside”
come out and play—Billie Eilish
Sawyer
“MissSawyer,doyouknow how to throw a football?” Micah looks up at me, a ball in his hands and a hopeful gaze in his eye.
“Of course, I do. Go long, Micah.” When Henry and I first became friends, he spent a week forcing me to learn how to throw a football.Any potential best friend of mine has to be able to throw a perfect spiral, he said. I remember thinking he was insane, but now the skill is coming in handy. I grab the football from his small hands and line the laces up with my fingers. I wait for Micah to get far enough away from me before I launch the ball into the air, aiming for a spot three feet ahead of him. I watch as he runs, pumping his small, little arms, and jumps up to catch the football out of the air.
“Touchdown!” Micah screams before spiking the ball on the ground and performing his best touchdown dance, waving his hands in the air while he does a wiggle.
“Micah,” Nathalie calls from the other side of the gym, “your dad is here.” Micah runs to put the football away then heads back towards me. He runs in for a hug, and with a quick wave goodbye, bolts towards the lobby to meet his dad.
“He's really taken a liking to you,” Nathalie comments as she walks towards the pile of footballs, bending down to grab a few. I help her clean the mess so that we can head home sooner.
“Micah’s a great kid, and hilarious. Not that I would ever tell him that, it would go straight to his head.” I laugh, picking up the last football, placing it in the storage room, and shutting the door.
My first full week of work has been both exhausting and exhilarating. Hanging out with the kids in the afternoon keeps things exciting and I’ve brainstormed a few ideas for community outreach days and new after-school programs. Instead of going home on days when I’m scheduled to stay late, Nathalie has stayed to keep me company. I like having her around; the time seems to fly by and she’s fun to talk to. It’s beginning to feel like Nathalie could become a really great friend. She’s kind and funny and has the patience of a saint. Some of the kids get on my nerves on my best days, and she handles them like a champ. Last week, a kid thought it was funny to draw on my nice, white shirt with a marker. He said he made it look “cooler”. I nearly blew a fuse, but Nathalie simply pulled a Tide pen out of a drawer, handed it to me, and resumed whatever task she was doing. Didn’t even blink an eye.
We lock up the building after the last child gets picked up and walk towards our cars in the parking lot. Before Nathalie gets into her car, an idea pops into my head.
“Hey, wanna come over for a girls’ night? My roommate and I were planning on hanging out, maybe watch a movie.” Maren and I hadn’t spoken about a movie night, but a girl’s night with the both of them could be fun. Plus, I think she is more likely to agree if we already have plans.
“Yeah, that sounds great!” She beams at me.
“Awesome, I’ll send the address. See you soon.”
I unlock the driver’s side door, get into the car, and pull out my phone.
Me:Hey, I invited my coworker
over for a girls’ night.
Would you be interested?
I’ll supply booze and snacks.
Maren:You had me at booze
and kept me at snacks.
See you at home.
Laughing at her response, I put my phone in the center console and head out to buy some booze and snacks.
Walking through the front door of the apartment, I waltz my way toward the kitchen, setting down the wine and chips on the kitchen island that I picked up from the store. I freeze as I turn back towards the living room and absorb the sight in front of me. Sprawled on the couch is Maren, in all of her tall glory. On a normal day, seeing Maren on the couch wouldn’t be anything exciting, but apparently, today is not any normal day. Covering the coffee table in front of her, there is a smorgasbord with enough food to feed ten people. The ungodly amount of food isn’t even what shocks me most. What truly causes me to freeze is the Seattle Mavericks jersey she sports and the eye black she’s drawn on nearly half of her face. Maren looks like she's supposed to be on the field but accidentally missed the plane to Detroit.
Taking another moment to process, I finally move into the living room and sit down on the other side of the couch. “What’s all this?” I ask, gesturing at the food and her ensemble.
“Oh, well I was putting a snack together to watch the game tonight and then you texted me, so I made more.” She responds, not taking her eyes off the TV, which has the pre-game special playing.
