Page 62 of Flagrant Foul
They’re important. Vital, even.
They’re not the spine though.
Ben Stirling was the spine of the Blackeyes for years, and to be honest, for a while now, we’ve been all ribs and no spine. We’ve been coasting on the groundwork Ben laid, and doing well enough, but he’s been gone for so long now that the cracks are starting to show.
By the time the final buzzer sounds, we’re still one goal down. No one on the team is in the best mood, especially not with what happened to Lewis, but Teddy is super bleak. His shoulders are stooped, and when people talk to him, his responses lag slightly. He’s trying not to show how upset he is, and that makes it worse. I hate it. I feel responsible for his unhappiness, even though I know, for once, I’m not the cause of it.
He isn’t the only goalie in the league who feels overly responsible when their team loses. In many ways, it’s accepted, almost expected, for the goalie to take a loss on a close game harder than others do.
It’s just that he’s the only goalie I can’t stand seeing unhappy.
It’s late when we get home, well past midnight. We left the curtains and blinds open, so the apartment is drenched in the ghostly light of the moon.
Teddy says goodnight and heads for his room.
I’m overtired. I must be because I have to clamp my mouth shut to stop myself from saying, “But, Tee, what about your goodnight kisses?”
I manage not to, but I feel deeply uncomfortable. Disordered and strange in my own skin. Panicked. Hurt. In physical pain almost that Teddy is unhappy, and on top of that, he’s being forced to sleep without the three little kisses that make him feel better. I know they do. He told me so. He said he sleeps better when I kiss him goodnight.
I shut my bedroom door with me on the inside. I need to calm down and get a grip. What’s happened with Teddy is a good thing. The right thing. The best thing for everyone, especially him.
I drop my bag on the floor and take my phone out of my pocket to charge it. My bed is made, which isn’t unexpected because I made it before I left. I have a thing about that, making my bed before I leave the house. That’s not the issue. The issue is that the bed sheets look a little straighter than I usually manage to achieve.
It gives me the feeling someone else has been in my room.
It’s more than a feeling, it’s a fact, because there on the end of my bed, neatly folded into a square, is the jersey Teddy took out of my closet.
The relief of seeing it and knowing he won’t wear it around the house again—with or without underwear—is palpable. It fills my lungs until my rib cage feels tight and then falls. It drops and drops. Past my stomach, past my pelvis, and settles heavily in my knees.
It makes my chest ache so badly that I find it necessary to sit down on my bed for a moment to recover.
Relief is a strong emotion, I’ll give it that.
33
Sev Delorean
Notmuchhashappenedtoday. It’s been a long-ass day of Teddy being sweet. Of watching his eyes light up when he sees me and seeing his face transform when I talk to him. He’s not trying to hide things behind veiled looks and rolled eyes. He looks at me like he likes me. Like I’m fucking amazing.
Like I’m a good person.
Like I’m his friend.
I fucking hate it.
I need him to start being a prickly asshole again soon. I swear to God, I cannot handle it if he keeps being nice to me. I need an eyeroll or even anugh. Anything that distracts me from how much I want him.
I need it because it’s been a long-ass night too. A night of watching the bow of his lips move when he talks and feeling like I’m single-handedly trying to hold back the tide by not taking him in my arms and putting my tongue in his mouth.
Other than that, not much has happened. Teddy gave Ragnar a Ping-Pong ball to play with, and it made them both happy. He went to Mae’s—Teddy, not Ragnar—and stayed there for one hour and forty-eight minutes.
That’s pretty much it.
So, yep. That’s what’s happened in my world today. Just that, and a fuck ton of relief that he’s stopped trying to seduce me.
So much relief.
Enough to drown in.
