Page 46 of Tight End

17

Taylor

The next day, Eric didn’t show up to get me for our normal lunch date. At first I was annoyed by that, but then I was glad. I didn’t want to be around him. He would tell me that I had overreacted last night, and since I was a pushover I would probably drop the subject.

I bought a sandwich from the cafeteria and ate it in my office while browsing social media. People were still talking about the big fight between Brody and his girlfriend. For a city as mild as Salt Lake City, that was top-shelf drama.

And then I came across a tweet from Isabella herself:

@BellaCheers95:Let me make one thing very clear. I am dumping Brody’s ass. Ladies, stay away from football players! #scrub #girlboss

The tweet surprised me. Isabella seemed like the kind of woman who thrived on drama, but I didn’t expect for her and Brody to actually break up. I navigated to Brody’s Twitter account, but he hadn’t posted anything since he tweeted about his Adidas sneakers two days ago.

They’re really broken up. Brody is single now.

That shouldn’t have mattered to me, but it left a light, airy feeling in my chest for the rest of the day.

Aside from two more phone calls (which I ignored) I didn’t hear or see Eric the rest of the week. It was strangely refreshing. Since we started dating, I usually spent the night at his place two or three times per week. He never stayed at my place. “My apartment is eighty-five square feet larger than yours,” he had told me once. “It makes logical sense for us to stay there when we’re together.”

Being alone allowed me to focus on my class lectures. And it meant I could watch TV without getting a big speech from Eric about how it would rot my brain. It was refreshing to be by myself.

Is the solitude refreshing, I wondered, or am I happier when I’m away from Eric?

I woke up early on Sunday and practiced my cheer routines before eating breakfast. While munching on cereal, I decided to text Brody.

Taylor: Good luck today! Break a leg, or run real fast, or whatever it is football players say to each other before a game!

Brody: Who has two thumbs and is going to kick a whole basket full of ass today?

A moment later, he sent a selfie. He was sitting on a leather couch, giving his trademark charming grin while aiming both thumbs at himself. I found my gaze lingering on the lines of tan muscle underneath his tank top.

Taylor: How’d you take that selfie? With your feet?

Brody: My husky dog is my photographer. Duh. Comes in handy when I have to post an Instagram story about the Adidas I’m wearing.

Taylor: Yeah right!

A few seconds later, a photo of a very well-behaved husky popped up on my phone. She had gray and white fur, and was sitting politely on her haunches, cocking her head at the camera.

Brody: How dare you doubt the photographic abilities of Luna?

Taylor: AWWWW. She looks like such a good girl!

Brody: Don’t let her fool ya. She’s on her best behavior because I’m about to take her to the park to wear her out before the game.

Taylor: Have fun! Send me a video!

Taylor: And let me know if you ever need someone to let her out for you! I love dogs!

Brody: Might just take you up on that, T-Foxy.

I finished my breakfast and took a shower. When I came out, I had a video waiting on my phone. Brody was throwing a tennis ball with Luna in the park.

“Okay, girl,” he said, although I couldn’t see him because he was the one filming. “Time to go home.”

The husky let out a random babbling of sounds.

“We played enough, girl. Let’s go.”

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