Page 43 of End Game
“Ooohhh,” I tease. “Are you validating my stupid feelings?”
“I suppose I am,” she grins. “But I’m still standing firm on wide receivers and tight ends being okay for future reference.”
“Nope.”
She looks scared to ask why I responded so quickly, so firmly to her stance. Taking a couple of steps back, doing this back-and-forth thing with her torso, she smacks her lips together. “Nope,” she reiterates.
“I’m done with football players. You and Finn are right,” I say, feeling the bitterness of the words as they launch into the world. “It’s an ugly, predictable cycle and I’m a moron for signing up for this self-inflicted abuse. I need to find a cute accountant and an aloe vera plant and some cooking magazines and start over again fresh.”
“I veto the accountant and think you should go more blue-collar because they’re good with their hands, but I’ll buy you your first aloe vera plant. Speaking of gifts, are you going to Tiffany’s party?”
A vague memory of being asked to attend a friend’s dirty thirty party tickles my brain. “Do I have to?”
“No, but you should,” she says. “It’ll be fun. It’s Tiffany, for crying out loud. God knows what she’s set up.”
“Fine,” I huff. “They’ll probably have good appetizers there.”
“What is it with you and food?” she laughs.
“I’m starving from doing posts about picnics and romantic getaways and sensual foods. You’ll never believe what I read that you can do with grapes.”
“I don’t even want to know.”
“Oh, but you do, but you have to read it yourself. Look it up sometime.”
Lifting my purse back on my shoulder, I wince. One hand shoots to the back of my neck as I hold pressure on the spot that aches so bad it throbs.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Spreader’s remorse.”
“Did that sexy bastard give you a sex injury?”
“It was a parting present. Get it?” I joke, wincing again as another shot of pain shoots down my back. “Damn it. It hurts.”
She watches me, gauging how much discomfort I must really be in. “I have an appointment tomorrow with my acupuncturist. Want to take it?”
“No.”
“She’s really good. I’ve seen her for years and she’s terrible to get into. Just take my appointment. You can’t keep living with the pain and I know you aren’t seeing a doctor.”
Shrugging, I dig through my purse for my over-the-counter pain medicine as Poppy’s fingers start flying across her phone.
“There,” she says. “I told Bai you’d be there instead of me.”
“Thanks.” I pop two pills without a drink. “Now can we go get a hot ham and cheese?”
“Lead the way,” she laughs, following me out the door.
Branch
Sweat drips into my eyes causing my vision to blur as I hunch over, hands on my knees, and pant.
“I hate fucking shuttle runs,” Finn gasps beside me. He’s in the same position, struggling to catch his breath.
We make our way to the sidelines of the high school field we’ve been allowed to use until spring camp starts. Digging into my bag, I find a towel and douse it with water from a chilled water bottle in a cooler. Wiping my face sends a ripple of coolness through my body, and once I can see again, I lay it along the back of my neck.
“You ready to start work?” Finn asks, his face still beet red. “I’m itching to get back on the field with the boys.”
