Page 66 of The Keeper
An hour later, our scrimmage is over and I’m certain I played like shit. I was distracted and stuck in my thoughts. Gina had a few choice words for me, but other than that, no one said anything. Hopefully I still get to play tomorrow.
But that isn’t the priority.
I catch Mack’s eyes and he tilts his head just slightly, indicating we should walk over… well, somewhere. The parking lot, his office. Just somewhere that doesn’t include a bunch of my teammates.
“Hey RJ!” I hear from behind me.
My body freezes.
I can hear Thomas jogging lightly towards me, but my eyes stay locked on Mack, who is just a few feet from me, bending over to stuff a final ball into his mesh net bag.
“I made reservations for Friday at that new tapas place on the drag.”
Mack’s eyes snap up to mine.
“I was thinking I could pick you up at 6:30ish? That should give us enough time to get there, park, walk around a little, you know? Proper date stuff.”
His eyes are wild and confused and they flick between me and Thomas. But then he looks away, grabs his bag and practically storms towards the parking lot.
“RJ?” I turn to look at Thomas. His eyes look behind me at Mack’s retreating form, then back to me. “Everything okay?”
I nod several times, surely looking like a bobble head. I’m only able to form an eloquent, “uh huh. Gotta go,” and I’m grabbing my duffle and power walking in Mack’s wake.
When I finally get to the parking lot, I see Mack chuck his bag angrily into the bed of his truck. I just stand there, watching him. Every nerve in my body says I should go to him, right this moment, and tell him the truth. Tell him about overhearing his call and how I reacted, so he knows why I did it but also that I regret it.
But I don’t.
I don’t go to him.
I just watch him.
I watch as he runs his hands through his hair and grips the back of his head, his face turned downward.
I watch as he clenches and unclenches his fists, and gets into his truck.
And when our eyes lock through his windshield, and he shakes his head in what looks like anger or frustration, I do nothing but watch as he drives away.
* * * * *
“You said WHAT?!”
Charlie’s voice is shrill. I haven’t heard her squeal like this in a long time.
“You heard me,” I huff out as I towel dry my hair while I sit cross-legged in yoga pants and a baggy shirt on my bedroom floor. “Don’t make me repeat it.”
Charlie walks out of my room. I hear her banging around in her own room for a few minutes before she’s back, with her arm extended and her finger pointing at me.
“No. I want to hear you say it again. If you are actually going to make thiscolossalmistake, you need to stick by it, mister!”
I sigh and throw my towel on the ground. She’s in a mood. And the only way to get her to go away so I can finish getting ready for this stupid date is to tell her about the game yesterday. Again.
“I told him I didn’t want to wait until May.”
My stomach curls at the memory, and I can’t maintain eye contact with Charlie.
It was one of the most difficult moments I’d ever faced. Mack, with his sweet heart and kind soul, his warm eyes and easy confidence, had come to me after we’d finished the home game against Cal Poly. He’d come to me looking tired and beaten down. Wounded.
“I don’t understand what happened,” he said in a hushed voice in the hallway outside of the locker rooms. “I thought we were figuring it out.” He swallowed. “I thought…” but he didn’t finish his sentence, as several of the girls came out of the locker room.
