I Bet My Lifeby Imagine Dragons
“So, Taylor. When do you head out?” Corey wiped off his forehead and bent at the waist, breathing hard. We’d just finished running three miles, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember why. After all, mini-camp had ended the day before, and preseason training camp didn’t start for another month. This was supposed to be our break, but Iverson had big ideas about staying in shape between times. I’d agreed to do some lifting and a little PT, but I hadn’t expected him to want to run today. When he’d showed up at my house, though, eager to get in a few miles, I hadn’t had the heart to turn him away.
Not that he would’ve left anyway. Dude was seriously stubborn when it came to this training shit.
Now I stared at him, my eyes narrowing. “Where exactly am I heading out to again?”
“San Fran, to see your girl.” He spoke serenely and certainly, as though I actually had discussed plans of this nature with him before. I hadn’t.
Oh, had I considered the idea of flying out to see Quinn? Uh, yeah. Every day, at least once an hour, for the last several months. We were texting all the time now; whenever I had a spare minute, I was checking in with her, if she wasn’t busy, and it was the same on Quinn’s end. I waited every morning for her good-morning message—I couldn’t send her one, since with the time difference, it would have still been the middle of the night when I got up—and the last thing I did every night before my eyes closed was to tell her good-night.
But I wasn’t sure if it was time yet, and that was what held me back from making plans to see her. We hadn’t actually talked on the phone once the whole time she’d been out on the West Coast. Neither of us ever brought it up; it was as though suggesting it might break some kind of spell. I liked texting, anyway, because it gave me time to think about what I wanted to say and kept me from making a complete ass of myself. Also, it meant that I could read back over her texts and relive our conversations.
God almighty. Maybe I was turning into a chick. That sounded like something a preteen with a crush might do.
Biting back a groan at that thought, I shook my head. “I don’t have any plans to fly to California.”
“Uh huh. Why’s that? Is it because you’re a big old chicken shit?” Corey straightened up and rolled his shoulders.
“No. It’s because I’m not sure either of us are ready to see each other in person yet. I don’t want to rush into anything.”
“Ellie thinks you should go. She says it’s time. She says Quinn needs you to make a grand gesture, and this would be perfect.”
“Oh, yeah?” I stretched, bending over and grabbing my calves, feeling it in my back. “But she doesn’t even know Quinn.”
“She told me you’d say that. And she said to tell you that there are some universal truths that apply to all women, and this is one of them. She says Quinn needs you to go to her. She has to know that she means everything to you, that you will do anything for her.”
“Huh.” I picked up a bottle of water from the low wall that fronted my yard. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’ve been thinking about it. But for months, all I heard from everyone was to give her time. Stay back. Be patient. Don’t push. Don’t rush into anything. I guess I’m afraid that if I jump too soon, I could screw up everything.”
“False start.” Corey nodded, pursing his lips. “Good point. But you know, bro, timing’s everything, right? In football and in matters of the heart.” He smirked. “When I first met Ellie, I knew she was the girl for me. All my buddies were asking girls to the dance—”
“Wait, the dance? How old were you?”
He shook his head impatiently. “Fourteen. We were in eighth grade. Anyway, I didn’t ask Ellie. I waited until we were at the dance, and all the guys were being little assholes, because that’s what fourteen-year-old boys do, and I swept in, asked her to dance. I bought her a soda. I walked her home. I was the hero, and I got the girl.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“You were kids. You’re comparing a junior high dance with the possibility of me losing the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with?”
“Hey.” Corey narrowed his eyes. “Who’s got a wife? Who’s been with the same lady since we were fourteen? Who managed to hold onto her through high school, college and three years in the pros?” He hooked a thumb at his chest. “That would be me. Who hasn’t been able to close the deal yet and has to mope around being the lonely bachelor all year? That would be you, my friend. So take my advice. Hell, take mywife’sadvice. Get your sorry ass to California.”
Shaking out my arms, I worked my jaw back and forth, thinking. Corey kept his eyes on me, waiting.
After a few silent minutes, I held out my hand. “Can I borrow your phone? Mine’s inside.”
“Why?” He quirked a challenging eyebrow.
“Give me the fucking phone, man. I need to go online and see when’s the first flight to San Francisco.”
I didn’t make a conscious decision to surprise Quinn, but once I made my airline reservation, I got busy packing and getting to the airport. It wasn’t until I landed at the Oakland airport—it had been faster and cheaper to fly into that one—that I realized I didn’t know where Quinn was. I hadn’t had any reason to ask for her address since she’d come out here; we only texted.
Out of desperation, I sent Gia a message, explaining the bare essentials: that I was in California surprising Quinn, that I didn’t know how to find her, and that I was throwing myself on her mercy. She responded quickly, admitting she didn’t have Quinn’s address either, but promising she could get it. I stood just outside baggage claim, tapping my finger on my leg, until another text came through.
This time, though, it wasn’t Gia.
Zelda:This is Zelda, in case you don’t have me in your contacts. Why are you in CA? Why doesn’t Q know you’re there?
I cringed. I wasn’t too proud to admit Zelda still made me a little nervous.
Leo:I flew out to surprise her. I have only good intentions, I promise. Please, Zelda. Trust me.
