I take a few selfies in the mirror, then step back to look out the window. Dylan gets into his truck and drives off. Having his own vehicle is another good sign.
Nice. This is nice.
“You replacing me, Cecily?” Cory asks, sneaking up behind me.
I chuckle. “You’re irreplaceable, Cory.”
“When are you going to let me take you out for a drink?” he asks, and my heart sinks.
“You’re about ten years too old for me, old man.”
“Come on,” he jokes. “I’m barely thirty. I’m not old. Age ain’t nothing but a number, honey.”
Says the fucking creep. I pat his shoulder, looking into his eyes. And then I walk away, pointing at the front counter.
“Go Detroit!” I say to catch their attention.
“Go Chargers!” a guy calls back, and now Cory will leave me be.
3
Dylan
Did the past hour even happen, or did I dream the entire fucking thing?
I walk into my house, and Scott is right where I left him.
“Hey, man,” he says over the couch.
Should I tell him what just happened, or keep it to myself? Given that I had far too much to drink last night, and Cecily seemed very eager to chit-chat, I keep the past hour to myself. I need to feel out what Monday will be like. I don’t know what to expect. She could be beautiful but a psychopath. I could have imagined the entire thing, and Monday at four means I’m meeting with no one, and it turns out, I’m actually a psychopath.
“Damn, dude. You feeling okay?” I ask, coming around the couch.
Scott shrugs. “Told you, I’ve been contemplating life.”
That’s not Scott. Scott’s normal tone is pussy, ass, alcohol, hockey, repeat. He’s not hardcore into dope or anything stupid, but he’s pretty out there with his ideas and wants.
“Are you depressed?” I ask.
He points at his head. “That’s what alcohol is—a depressant. Just let me sit here in it. I’m having a moment.”
I grab him an Advil and hand it over. “I can’t have you mopey all fucking day. Take the fucking pills, and your moment will last another ten minutes. I need Scotty back.”
He takes the pills and says, “I’ve been thinking about how to fuck up Stanford this year.”
“Yeah?” I sit next to him. “How the fuck are we gonna do that?” It’s been back-to-back years of Stanford winning. They’re almost to a fucking five-year streak.
“We take Travis down. He’s the top dog. We need to watch him, learn his weaknesses. Scope out the games just like Coach Evan’s would.”
I nod. “Good plan.” I smack his chest. “I’m not gonna fuck around and find out anymore.”
Scott laughs. “What?”
“Thinking of Viv at thirty freaked me the fuck out, man. It was a wake-up call, so I’m taking a break from all of it. Ever since that shit with Layla, I need a fucking break. Honest to God, break. Get my head back on straight. That sort of thing.” I smack him again. “I swear to you, we’ll beat Stanford this year.”
He nods with a smile. I think this asshole is stoned out of his mind.
I laugh. “Advil isn’t going to do shit, huh? How much weed did you smoke?”
