Page 98 of Off Camera
Fucking her on the couch.
Starting this friends with benefits arrangement that’s been the best thing of my fucking life.
I never thought I’d be thankful for cellophane, but I might have to buy some stock in their company as a thank you for ensuring I’m perpetually satisfied.
“You little devil. I don’t know if she’s coming,” I say. “It’s not her team, so she doesn’t have a reason to come.”
“Did you invite her?” Maverick asks.
“No. I mean, I guess I did? I told her it was happening and where to buy tickets. But we don’t do that sort of thing. We just—” I clear my throat and choose my next words carefully. “Hang out.”
He smirks. “Yeah? And how is thehanging outgoing?”
Fucking amazingly.
It’s simple and easy, full of mindless need.
Our hands are on each other the second she walks through the door and it feels like we’ve been doing this for years.
I’m living in a daze or some alternate reality.
It’s the only logical explanation for why my three-year slump of only having my hand to get me off is broken by having nonstop sex with a woman so far out of my league.
Avery sent me a photo a few days ago when the Thunderhawks were away in Pittsburgh. It was a half-lit shot from her hotel room, her fingers between her legs and her shirt riding up her chest.
I jerked off to it, some rare bout of spontaneity telling me to record myself and send it to her, and I was rewarded with another photo, closer up, with the wordswish you were herewritten under it.
Itworks, and I don’t know why we didn’t start doing this earlier.
“The hanging out is going very well,” I say to Maverick. “We’ve settled into a groove.”
“And how are your feelings for her?”
“You like Avery?” June asks. “Like like her?”
“It’s not like that, kiddo. We’re… friends. Ah, friendly, I guess is the right way to describe it. She’s nice and all, but I don’t have feelings for her.”
“You need a girlfriend,” June says. “Everyone else has someone. Don’t you feel lonely?”
Kids and their lack of filters.
“I’m not lonely. I have plenty of things that make me happy. You. Your dad and mom. Mav and Emmy. My job. My LEGO collection and plants. Happiness isn’t defined by having a partner, June Bug,” I say.
“I know that. Mom tells me I can live alone with ten cats if I want to.” June wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want cats, though. I want dogs.”
“It’s a real shame your parents haven’t gotten you a dog yet,” Maverick says, raising his voice so Dallas can hear him from the bedroom. “You’ve only been asking foryears.”
“I can’t wait until you become a father so I can give you a hard time,” Dallas says, appearing in the living room. He drops some money in the swear jar and kisses the top of June’s head.“Go get your backpack, sweetheart. We’re heading out in a minute.”
June takes off down the hall. When we’re alone, Maverick clears his throat. He avoids our gazes and looks at the ground.
“About, ah, the father thing,” he says, and we both stare at him.
“No fucking way,” I say.
“You’re fucking joking,” Dallas adds.
“Emmy and I had a long conversation the other night. We’ve both been back and forth on if we want kids for a long time, and, truly, life with her is enough. I don’t need anything else. I wake up every day, happy as shit, and I know I’m going to be happy for the rest of my life. But lately… I don’t know.” Maverick laughs. He runs a hand through his dark hair, and his palm shakes. “We agree that something is missing. With only two years left on her contract with Baltimore, we’re going to start trying for a baby next summer. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, we’ll keep playing and keep trying.”
