Tyler shook his head, leaned back in his seat and gave up, asking Jack more about his time in Toronto to fill the time. It took an unholy amount of time to get to the thrift store. Once Country parked and they went inside, he tried to slip to an aisle by himself, but Tyler stuck to him like glue. When they finally found the hockey jerseys, Country grabbed the first one that looked to be approximately his size and beelined for the dressing rooms.
“You're going to try that on?” Tyler called behind him.
“Have to make sure it fits my swoll pecs.”
“It's a hockey jersey!”
Country ignored him and walked into the hall that smelled like it had been spritzed with urine and pushed through one of the flapping doors, noting that only one of the hinges was still intact. He flipped the latch and sat down on the bench.
When he swiped to Jenna's messages on his phone, he found three texts waiting for him.
Funny
This afternoon was beyond awkward, and I'm sorry. To be fair, I never expected that you would set foot in GCBN
You always hated that world
Country didn't know where to start. First of all, yes, it had been awkward, but not because he hated broadcasting. He didn't hate that world. Hadn't he always been supportive of Jenna wanting to start a career in sportscasting? What would make her think that he hated what she loved? Though he didn't know if she still loved it. But what had he done to make her believe that from back then?
Second, were they really not going to talk about the fact that she had lived in the city for years and had never gotten in contact with him? Country played that out in his head. What would he have done if Jenna had reached out three years ago? Would they have gotten together, gone out for dinner, caught up on each other's lives and pretended like the last ten years hadn't happened?
Was that what he wanted to do now? His mind felt like a tangled line of barbed wire, so he typed,
I don't text
He was tapping out a second line to lessen the harshness of that response when a call came through. The same number he'd just been texting ticker-taped over his phone screen. Jenna was calling him. Without thinking it through, he hit the green button to accept.
“Hello?”
“You don't text?”
“It's annoying and inefficient.”
“It's convenient.”
Country shifted on the MDF board masquerading as a bench. “We just expressed more in the last three seconds than I could have typed in two minutes.”
“Maybe you need to become a better typer.”
“Is it typing? I only use my thumbs. I can think of exactly one situation where thumb agility would be a benefit, and it’s not on a keyboard.”
Jenna hesitated just long enough that Country knew her mind had gone straight to the gutter. “It'll be a benefit when you’re texting.”
There was a long pause, and Country stood, getting a good look at his flushed neck in the streaky full-length mirror. Were they fighting about texting? While he sat in a thrift store dressing room? And was he enjoying it?
“Why did you want me to call you?” Jenna’s voice was soft. Less guarded. It made him start to break out into a cold sweat.
He cleared his throat and turned to face the blank wall behind him. “Because it’s been over ten years since we’ve talked.”
“Thirteen. I think, I mean, I don’t?—“
“Probably thirteen in October.” Not probably. Definitely.
“Right. So . . .”
Country’s mouth went dry. “I thought it would be smart to clear the air. Since I’ll be at the studio twice this week. Didn’t want it to be awkward.”
“Mm. Yeah, no, that’s a good idea.”
