“You literally just canceled a date with some dude. And before that, you were hinting at us going out or staying in for ‘whatever.’ I actually thought we’d be able to get through this conversation and stay friends, a platonic relationship.” A laugh accompanies my words, humorless and drawn out.
“Since when do you have platonic relationships?”
“Raegan. Rose. Poppy…” I was about to say Olivia but didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. And I realize that’s not the kind of relationship I want with Olivia, but again, no need to tell that to Jade.
“Raegan dates one of your best friends, and Poppy is her best friend, which makes them both acquaintances. And come on, you and Rose have considered screwing more than once.”
“Thanks for discrediting me and thinking so highly of me. Appreciated.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let’s be honest and call a spade a spade.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Being honest? Let’s talk about why you dumped me after I fucked up my knee.”
“I didn’t break up with you. I told you I didn’t think things were working out—things weren’t progressing between us.”
“That’s right up there with ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ Jade.”
She laughs. “Look, you’re funny. You’re hot. You look great in your uniform and even better in a towel. But you had no idea how to be a boyfriend, and let’s be honest, you didn’t want to be one. You wanted to fuck.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” I bite out sarcastically.
“Seriously, Arlo, did you see us ever being more than just fuckbuddies?” she asks, a hint of vulnerability laced in her words.
I don’t answer right away because I honestly don’t know what I thought when we were together.
Jade shakes her head at my silence. “I asked you to move in with me, and you said you needed to think about it.”
“I did.”
“For three weeks?”
“What was the hurry? Why were we rushing into things?”
She clasps a hand to her forehead. “I wasn’t talking about right away. I told you, my apartment lease is going to end in June. I simply put it out there that we could get a place together, and you got all weird and wouldn’t talk about it.”
“What did you want me to say?”
“I wanted you to talk to me. I wanted you to tell me if you thought it was something that could be in our future. Instead, you just got distant.”
“I had two bowl games left in an undefeated season. I was doing two practices a day and weights and trying to make sure my grades weren’t slipping.”
Her shoulders sink as she releases a quiet sigh. “I know, but I needed to find another roommate if you weren’t going to go forward with the idea. I wasn’t asking you to propose. I was simply asking you if you would want to move in together.”
“It was too big a step,” I finally respond.
Her eyebrows arch. “I know.”
Neither of us speaks for what feels like hours but is likely only minutes.
“So what was with you at the party on Friday? And again, when I got here? Figured I was still a good lay even though I wasn’t boyfriend material?” That was a low blow, but fuck me, everything about this conversation is a mess.
Her eyes thin, and I know before she even speaks that she’s going to strike back. “You’re chasing a dream, Arlo. You want to be in the NFL. Think about it—think about how many guys are dreaming of joining the NFL and how many they’re going to draft. Then take into account that your knee is going to take you out for months. Do you really think this is a feasible dream?”
“Wow,” I say, feeling the wind lick at my face. I hadn’t realized I’d stepped outside. “Text that guy back and un-cancel your date. We’re done, Jade.” I turn, wishing I could descend the stairs faster than my knee allows. With each step, Coach Evans’s voice enters my head.
A couple of shots.
No pain.
Muscle memory.
A couple of shots.
I get to my Tahoe and wrench open the door. Anger coursing through me like a hurricane, wishing to plow through all the progress and growth my mother claims I’ve achieved over the past year.
The drive home is a blur of wasted time and thoughts that sour my mood in leaps and bounds. I pull into the extended driveway seconds before my check engine light glows red. I slam my palm against the steering wheel