Page 1 of My Scorned Best Friend

1

“WELL, SHE’S NOT YOUR AVERAGE GIRL.”

Xavier

I never thought that when I finally got everything I’d ever dreamed of, I’d be this fucking miserable.

My entire life, I’ve gone with my gut. I trust my decisions—both on and off the field. I’m one of those one-in-a-million cases. I left my small town with a scholarship to a D1 college to play football, entered the draft and was a first-round pick, then two years ago, I signed a five-year contract that’s still the biggest in the league.

I don’t say all that with arrogance. The fact that I have a horseshoe up my ass isn’t lost on me. Guys like me—from small schools in remote areas—don’t get looked at by colleges. They sure as hell don’t get as far as being the best quarterback in the league. But here I am. And despite all that, I’m unhappy.

My phone dings as I’m eating my breakfast before practice, and I pick it up to see a DM from Sessilee. She’s my ex’s good friend, and ever since Giulia and I broke up, she’s been popping up in my DMs.

Sessilee: I’m in San Fran. How about dinner?

I’m not exactly a mind reader when it comes to women, but even I know that going to a dinner where Sessilee will one hundred percent snap a picture or tag me in some shit will stir up drama.

Me: Sorry, Coach has me on a strict regimen. Next time for sure.

The three dots appear immediately, which is probably meant to entice, but now that I have my phone in hand, I do what I’ve done every day for the last week—I scroll to my text messages and make sure I didn’t miss a reply from Clara. Like every other time I’ve looked, the last text in the thread is my own.

Me: You looked good tonight.

Clara’s my best friend, or my ex-best friend I suppose, but I could never think of her like that, even if she’s not talking to me and our relationship has become strained to the degree of archrivals. She and my family got stuck on a layover last week after a family vacation in Hawaii that I couldn’t take since it’s my preseason. The minute I saw her, all I wanted to do was give her a hug and talk out our issues, put it all behind us, but I’m a coward. Instead, I waited until we’d parted that night and sent a message that should’ve said I’m sorry. But as always, I’m too fucking proud.

Messages from Sessilee trickle in as if the woman can’t for the life of her form her thoughts in complete sentences. Instead, it’s a string of two or three words per message.

I keep thumbing up as if miraculously, Clara will decide to forgive me. I tell myself the same bullshit I have every day—that Clara just returned from vacation and came home to a lot of work at the town library, which hasn’t afforded her time to respond to my message yet.

After picking up my plate, I put it in the dishwasher and start the machine before I grab my bag and head out of my condo. On the elevator ride down, I scold myself for being in such a mindfuck.

I’m Xavier fucking Greene and I have the world at my fingertips. I can get into any restaurant in this town, even if it’s the new hot place. Kids wear my jerseys. Hell, adults wear my jerseys. People stop me on the streets for pictures and autographs. I’m in sponsorship ads plastered across the glitziest cities in the country. This is what I’ve worked for my entire life. I should be fucking happy.

I’m so distracted by my thoughts that I don’t realize at first that the elevator has stopped three floors below mine. My teammate, Ben Noughton, walks in, his head down and looking at his phone, a smile tipping up the corners of his lips. He’s probably going to fill me in on last night’s conquest.

He looks up and sees me. “X, what’s up?”

“Morning.” I press the door shut button to get this ride over with sooner. Which is absurd because Ben’s been one of my best friends on the team ever since I started with the San Francisco Kingsmen.

“I never realized how funny Clara is,” he says.

I tense and whip my head in his direction. He doesn’t bother looking at me, his thumbs continuing to tap on the phone screen.

“I mean, at first I was all in because she’s a librarian, you know.”

Oh, I know, fucker.

“The whole sexy librarian with dark-framed glasses in a pair of black sheer stockings—”

“Keep in mind, she’s my best friend.”

Ben has no idea what went down with us.

“Funny you mention that.” He glances at me. “I asked her why she hasn’t been down here in the past two years.”

My gut twists and I reposition my gym bag over my shoulder. I wait for him to continue.

“She said she didn’t want to step on toes because of Giulia. That people might assume things because you’re best friends.”

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