Page 44 of End Game
“It’s what we live for.”
“Yeah.” He sucks down a bottle of water in one gulp. “I have been enjoying the offseason though.”
“You mean you’ve enjoyed Poppy’s pussy.” The sound of the words out loud makes me laugh. “It sounds like a porno. Poppy’s Pussy.”
“I like to pop that pussy,” Finn laughs. “But seriously, man. I like her. Like, I mightlike herlike her.”
“Don’t do it, Finn.”
“Do what?”
“Start taking this shit seriously.”
“We’ve had our fun,” Finn says. “A lot of it. But I just feel different right now, you know? Like maybe the hoes and blows is just too much work.”
I look at him like he’s crazy. “Have you lost your goddamn mind? They aren’t too much work. They’re easy. That’s the point.”
“Maybe it’s like ball. Maybe if it’s easy, you’ll never win the championship. If it’s hard—if you’re training your ass off and making sacrifices and choosing the work over the weed, you can win. Maybe it’s the same.”
“I feel like I don’t even know you right now,” I balk. “You can’t be serious.”
“Think about it. It might be nice having someone you know will be there when you come home at the end of the day. Someone to talk to. Someone you can wine and dine.”
“You can’t wine and dine groupies, Finn. It confuses them.”
“Exactly,” he says like I just made his point for him. “Maybe taking a beautiful girl out to dinner wouldn’t be a bad thing. It might feel good to rent a houseboat on Lake Powell and instead of entertaining a bunch of jackasses that don’t give a fuck about you, just about your bank account, and spend some time just relaxing and enjoying life.”
“Sorry,” I say, shoving my things back into my bag. “Enjoying life means women, weed, and work. The only singular thing in that sentence is work.”
Finn laughs, but I think it’s moreatme thanwithme. He gets his things together and we start the walk from the fifty-yard line to the gate that leads to the parking lot.
“What are you doing this weekend? Heading up to the cabin?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t hear the hope in my voice.
He hasn’t mentioned Layla at all in the weeks we’ve been home. I’ve brought her up a couple of times as sneakily as I could, but he answered in the fewest number of words he could manage. I did get some insight from Poppy, but her team flag was flying and it didn’t have my name on it.
“Nah,” he says. “I have a party this weekend.”
“Are you supposed to be partying, Mr. Monogamous?”
“Poppy is coming.”
“Yup. Don’t even know you.”
But what I do know without him saying is that if he’s going and Poppy’s going, odds are pretty fucking spectacular that Layla will be going too.
I don’t know what to say to her, especially knowing she has a pretty good idea what went down at Crave. I have no clue how to approach her or if she’ll even want to entertain the idea of talking to me. Still, I really, really want to just let her know I didn’t fuck that girl at the bar. I don’t know why it matters, but it does.
Thankfully, Finn helps me out.
“What are you up to this weekend?” he asks, shoving the metal gates open so we can pass through.
“Not much. Just hanging out, I guess. I do have an interview sometime Saturday. Want to do something after?”
“I have the party, remember.”
“Oh.”
He side-eyes me. “Wanna go?”
