“Augie?”
“What?”
“Congratulations. You make a beautiful fake couple.”
He hangs up before I can tell him off.
Pen
It is a surreal thing to sit on my sad little sagging twin bed—the same bed I’ve had throughout college—on Sunday night and watch August John Luck tell the world that he’s engaged to Penelope Jane Morrow.
I mean, I see it just fine. Broad shoulders relaxed, firm chin raised, silver eyes clear, he sits front and center at his team’s press table surveying the room with the confidence of a king knowing they’re hanging on his every word. And tells them he’s marrying me. Me!
It’s the believing I have a hard time with. This has to be a weird episodic dream. The kind you wake up from and are immediately sorry you did, then think about it all day as the smaller details slowly fade away.
I once heard a story about a man who was in a coma for twenty years. He spent it lucid dreaming about his awesome job, his loving wife, children, and all the wonderful things he did with them... only to wake up one day and discover it wasn’t real. He didn’t have any family; he never had that great job. He was all alone.
A chill dances over my shoulders at the thought.Please don’t let me be in a coma right now.
On my phone screen, August is fielding questions. Apparently, some people are shocked to learn he’s now engaged. You know, when he’d been dancing on tables and making out with multiple women, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, for the past few months.
I cringe.
August doesn’t. He merely shrugs and looks slightly sheepish as if he’d been a naughty boy caught in the act but they all know he’s not really like that, which is technically true, but still amazing to watch.
“Penelope is the love of my life,” he tells them—and holy hell, that makes my cheeks burn hotly even though I know it’s a lie. “I’ve known her since we were kids. To protect our relationship, we did our best to keep it out of the spotlight.”
Did we ever. One might even say it was nonexistent until now. I snort and curl up tighter in my pillow nest.
“Unfortunately, we hit a rough spot this summer and brokeup. I didn’t take it well.” His gaze goes straight to the camera, silver blue under strong dark brows. And for a breathless second, it’s as if he’s speaking directly to me. “It’s a difficult thing trying to live without the person who completes you.”
I’m waiting for them to call him Jerry Maguire. But they don’t.
Instead, one person yells out, “Are you saying your play is directly affected by your personal life?”
Ah, caught. I fidget, worrying what he’ll do now.
August flashes the Luck “aw, come on now” smile I know very well. “I don’t recall my play being affected. From what I remember, we’ve won every game so far. Or do I have that wrong, Kirby?”
“Ah, no. That’s right.”
“We were addressing the fallout from certain dancing videos I’d rather forget. Since y’all not gonna let me, till we talk it out, I’ll just say this. I got my girl. I got the best team I could ask for. And from here on in, we’re going to focus on football. We gotta keep up our practice intensity, find out what needs to be adjusted and expanded on. I’m pumped for this season and looking forward to what we can accomplish.”
While August continues to give them cliché answers straight from the sports-press Q&A handbook, I let the phone fall to the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Holy wow, I’mengaged.
Though I’m alone in my room, I feel oddly exposed, as though I’ve been stripped bare and set down on Hollywood Boulevard. I can almost feel the speculation going on right now. People wondering who the hell I am and why her? Did August Luck really love this girl so much that he fell apart without her?
I can’t see anyone believing it. Probably because I can’t believe it myself.
To calm down, I hold up my hand and look at the ring upon my finger. The sapphire is so intensely deep blue, it’s almost like the complete combustion of a gas. Yet it’s also cooland tranquil, the royal blue velvet of a twilight sky. I could look at it forever.
My phone buzzes.
Pickle:It’s done. Hold on to your butts.
Despite the unsettled state of my nerves, I instantly feel lighter, bubbly even. August Luck: the original champagne high. Settling in more comfortably, I tap out a reply.
Pen:Jurassic Park remains superior in the franchise
