Page 21 of The Illicit Play
I sit there in silence while my friends order their drinks, then let them drag me to a table where my back is to the dance floor.
As soon as I take a seat, I start to feel better. At least I think I do.
Two beers down now, and my shoulders aren’t so tense. In fact, everything is a touch looser, and my tongue starts to flap before I can stop it.
“This wasn’t the plan,” I mumble.
“What?” Carson leans closer to hear what I’m saying.
“I had it all fucking mapped out, and she—” I flick my hand in the air. “She dumped me. And it wasn’t the fucking plan!”
“You can’t control life, man.” Carson tips his beer bottle at me. “It throws shit at you, and you can either turn it into fertilizer or stand there smelling like ass.”
I frown at my roommate while Zander snickers. “Where the hell did you get that?”
Carson tips his head at Nylah. “My girlfriend said it.”
“I didnotsay that.”
“I’m paraphrasing.” He winks at her.
She rolls her eyes but then gives me a kind smile, resting her hand on my arm. “It’s sort of true. From one closet control freak to another… it’s a mantra I have to remind myself of all the time.” Running her hand down to my hand, she curls her fingers around mine. “I know life is shit right now, but you can handle it. You just have to let go of trying to fix it and trust your gut. For once, why don’t you let life just happen to you and see where it goes? There’s a certain freedom to that, you know?”
I scoff and shake my head. “What if my gut’s not saying a fucking thing? What if life is leading me straight into a shithole?”
Nylah laughs and shakes her head. “Your gut is talking to you all the time. You just have to shut up and listen. Stop getting in your own way and just… be still. You know?”
Be still.
My brain mumbles and mocks those two words until they start to really sink in.
Be still.
The only place I can ever truly do that is in nature.
Damn, I need that spring break trip now more than ever.
Gimme tall trees and cold lakes. Gimme campfires and trail mix. Just gimme anything that isn’t a strawberry blonde woman making out with a pale-skinned basketball player on the dance floor.
CHAPTER 7
BLAKE
I’ve been on nursing duty for nearly two weeks, and it’s safe to say that…
I’m done!
I love my brother. He’s one of the best people I know. Possiblythebest person I know. But watching him process his disappointment—more like devastation—over his football plans going up in smoke has been painful.
That makes me sound like a selfish bitch. The poor guy has had his dreams shattered. I’ve tried to tell him they’re only dented and he’ll get them back—a plan is already in place. But every time we leave one of his PT sessions and he’s clenching his jaw, fighting the agony of recovery, he slumps back into that mode of “my life is over,” and “I’ll never get drafted,” and “what’s the point of fighting so hard?”
Of course, the second Satch walks through the door, he manages to find his happy self again. It’s only me who is truly getting all of his mournful angst.
And I’ll take it.
Seriously, I will.
I’d do anything for Wily.
