Page 68 of Plays Well With Others

But out of nowhere, a cornerback slices my path, batting the ball down before it even reaches me.

There is no out of bounds. The clock runs out, and I don’t groan in misery. I curse in despair as I walk off the field, head down. It’s one game, but it’s not just one game. Every game matters.

After a few shitty minutes where I want to kick things, but I don’t, I pull myself together to head to the stands to say hi to friends and family. First, Mom and Dad.

“Tough loss, kid,” my dad says. I’ve always beenkidto him. I’ll always bekid. I don’t really mind.

“Yeah, sucks,” I mutter. He never expects me to be happy all the time. It’s nice.

My mom ruffles my hair, and since she always looks on the bright side, she says, “But that catch was amazing.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I don’t say what I’m really feeling—lot of good it did.

I raise my face. I can’t avoid it any longer. I have to see my friends. When I make my way to Rachel, I’m even more disappointed in myself. That’s a weird feeling with her. But maybe it’s not a weird feeling in general. I’ve always wanted to impress the girls I like. Knowing your girl is in the stands always adds something extra to a game. You want her to see you at the top.

Sure, Rachel’s been to countless games of mine in the NFL, but this is the first game she’s come toafterwe’ve slept together, after our chocolate café date, and after the decision to do girlfriend lessons.

I want to win for me, for my team, for my job, for the fans.

But as I close the distance to the amber-eyed woman, disappointment sinks a little harder in my gut with a realization—I wanted to win for her too.

And she’s not even my girl.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” I say a little heavily.

“Great game. Tough loss,” she says.

“Yeah.”

I say nothing more. Partly because I have nothing to say, but also because I’m overcome with the urge to wrap her in my arms. Bring her close. Tell her how much tonight sucked, then bury my face in her neck for a few seconds and inhale her orange-blossom smell.

Shake off the loss like that.

Instead, I shake off the desire. Can’t act on it. That’s not our deal. This thing with Rachel is temporary. It’s not for post-game comfort.

I don’t stay with the crew for long. Coach will want to break down that loss. Reporters will ask questions. It’s time to go so I leave, the scoreboard flashing the loss my way.

* * *

When I’m home alone that night, Rachel texts.

Rachel: You doing okay? You didn’t seem like yourself.

Carter: It’s football. You win and you lose.

Rachel: If you want to talk, I’m here.

Carter: Nah. I’m all good.

She doesn’t need to know I’m in a funk. I turn off my phone and shut out the world.

23

A SEA URCHIN THINGY

Carter

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