Jamie’s brow quirked. “I thought you two were roommates.”
“We were. Once we convinced our assigned roommates to switch.” After a moment, I added, “We played that soundtrack to death that first year. The RA on our floor was so sick of us. I ended up with a minor in French.”
She took another sip. “But you weren’t broody.”
“Nope. Neverbroody.”
She gave me a thumbs-up that said she’d let me believe my lies before slapping a hand on the table. “Wait! Wait. Now I remember why his name is so familiar.”
When Jamie turned the screen toward me this time, it showed a photo of Ryan on the sidelines of a pro game, sweat pouring down his face. His jaw a hard, severe line. His eyes dark with that ruthless focus of his I knew so well.
But none of that concerned Jamie. No, she enlarged the image and jabbed her finger at the noticeable bulge in his gamepants. “I remember when the internet was on fire over this last year.”
I plucked the phone from her hand and set it facedown. “I don’t think that’s what you think it is. There’re all kinds of padding and protective thingies in there. It’s very complicated. Think about it—they wouldn’t be slamming into each other without making sure their downstairs affairs were protected.”
“It’s like a topographical map.”
She tried to grab her phone, but I beat her to it and held it close to my chest. I didn’t need another eyeful.
Despite being there to watch Ryan win it all in high school, I didn’t like football anymore. I wanted all the best things for my old friend, but I went out of my way to avoid Boston sports talk. But I knew a lot about the game. The players, the positions, the rules. And the equipment. And I knew Jamie’s assessment of that topography was probably accurate.
Not that I’d ever tell her. We needed some shred of boundaries around here.
“Honey, I get it,” I said. “I’m just saying I don’t need to be involved in theWhere’s Waldo?search of Ryan’s pants.”
She sipped the last of her Diet Coke, her eyes narrowed. Eventually, she set the can down and folded her arms on the table. She tipped her head toward my phone, asking, “Did you tell him you’re available?”
I reached for my phone and glanced at his response.
Wildcat: Saturday? 7? 8?
Wildcat: I’ll handle the reservations
Emme: Saturday at 7 works for me
Wildcat: I’ll shoot you the details when I have them
Wildcat: can I send a car to pick you up?
Emme: no, I’m good. thanks though
“I did and?—”
“Let me see.” She snatched my phone away and scanned the messages. After a moment, she handed it back to me. “You’re legally required to tell me everything that occurs.”
I laughed again and this one didn’t feel like such a strain. It felt better. “I already knew that.”
“As the coordinator of your post-breakup rehabilitation, I could always come along with you. For support and supervisory purposes. I’d be completely silent. No talk of body oiling or topography. You wouldn’t even notice me.”
“I think we’d notice a third person at the table, James.”
“I’d say nothing. Unless you tried to do something stupid,” she added.
I stared at her. “I don’t think there’s any stupid thing I could do with Ryan. He doesn’t function that way.”
“Let’s just wait and see, shall we?”
chapter four
