“Your shirt’s right there. Grab itand let’s go. Come on. We don’t have time for this shit.”
I notice my button-up is on thefloor. That’s what he’s referring to since Tad’s shirt is on the couch,positioned so Darren couldn’t possibly see it.
“Okay, okay.”
Tad’s obviously as frustrated as Iam that we can’t continue. It’s a real fucking shame. And sobering too, becauseit never should have gotten as far as it did. I should have done my fuckingjob. I should have kept my cool.
He grabs my shirt and then, surelyrealizing it won’t fit right, tosses it down and grabs his tee off the couchbefore heading out with Darren.
Why did we fucking let it getthis far?
Eight
Tad
“Where the fuck were you, Roarke?” Coach Mally asks.
Sweat rushes down my face. I canfeel it settling in my scruff.
I’m panting like a motherfucker ashe approaches me, red-faced as Kiernan gets when he’s pissed about shit.
Even though he’s three-quarters mysize, he has the sort of personality that makes you think he’s a few shoutsaway from bashing your face in.
Although, considering we won, I’mnot in the mood for his criticism. Admittedly, I had a hard time staying focused.I missed two easy passes, which were intercepted by the Patriots. If I hadn’tbeen checking Bryce out for the hundredth time, I would have been on top of it,too. I don’t need Mally to rub it in.
Since my experience with Bryce inmy hotel room in New Orleans, I’ve struggled to concentrate. I keep replayinghow it could have gone down. How itshouldhave gone down. I hadn’texpected it to be that hot. The intensity. The passion that built between us ashe kissed me.
I wanted to fuck him so bad. If ithadn’t been for that dumbass interview, we would’ve hooked up, but I can tellby the way Bryce is acting now, that isn’t an option anymore. He realizes whatwe did was totally inappropriate, and he feels guilty about it. If ever therewas a guy who I wanted to punch in his stupid face for thinking such incrediblystupid things, it’s him.
“I’m sorry, coach,” I say, but Ican tell by my fellow teammates’ glares that no one sympathizes with myabsentmindedness. I’ll be hearing about this every fucking day—watching it onvideo as Mally puts it on replay again and again and again—until I redeemmyself next game.
“You’re sorry?” Mally asks. “Youwere sorry when you ended up inThe New York Timesfor the crap withJordan. And you were sorry when you ended up in US Weekly for that shit onvacation. And you were sorry when fucking Gerber Baby dropped out of a multi-million-dollarsponsorship. Gatorade offered a once-in-a-lifetime deal that we will neverfucking get again. Pepsi Co., Prozac, Wells Fargo…and that’s just thebeginning. Those are just the deals that we were already in the process of contracting.We’re not even counting the ones that dropped before we could even begin withnegotiations.”
I totally get why he’s upset. Atleast when that shit blew up last year, I was still contributing to the team,and in our best year ever. To be underperforming now must seem incrediblyunfair to Mally. He starts to go on, but stops himself. Presses his lipstogether. He glances around like he’s just now realizing this isn’t the placeto chastise me. He’s already given me a hard time. I’ve heard him rant aboutall the money that I’ve lost the team plenty of times before, but never infront of the rest of the guys like this. Stupid game shit, yes. Ad money, no. It’sembarrassing. Humiliating. And true.
***
Bryce, Carson, Darren, and Kiernan accompany me through themain exit hallway to the parking lot.
We don’t speak until we getoutside, where there’s enough ruckus from the screaming fans behind the fenced-offsections on either side of the lot to keep us from being heard.
Kiernan starts to say something.
“I don’t want to hear it rightnow,” I say, speeding up to get away from him.
“I don’t care what you want tohear. What the fuck was going on? It’s not even just that one play. You wereall over the place out there.”
“I had a bad game, but we won.I’ll be better next time.”
“Do you need to talk to acounselor or—”
I spin around. “Don’t…don’t youdare fucking do this to me right now. Like this.”
How does he think it’s okay tobring up me needing to see a fucking counselor around these guys?
I can tell by his expression thatI’ve caught him off guard. I never would have been bothered with him sayingsomething like that around Carson or Darren, but with Bryce in the mix—now thatI want to fuck him—I feel guarded. He doesn’t need to know how fucked up I am.
“Don’t give me this attitude now,”Kiernan says. “I get that you’re upset, but don’t take it out on me.”
