“They’re Quakes fans, that’s for damn sure.”
“Bribing nurses and doctors with lattes and fritters, we might be onto something.”
Chris nods his head as my phone buzzes in my hand. “We should bring it up to PR. I’m sure they would have a field day with it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Zoning out, I open my text from Adalyn.
Adalyn:Pizza should be on the list of things pregnant women should eat. Dairy, protein, veggies, and grains. What more can you ask for?
Smiling to myself, I respond back.
Hayden:It’s on my list of pregnancy-approved foods along with four apple fritters a day.
Adalyn:Funny. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for a game?
Taking a picture of my socked-up legs, I send it along with a comment.
Hayden:It’s the calm before the storm in the locker room right now. Waiting for coach to come in and do his spiel.
Adalyn:Oh, huh, for some reason I thought you couldn’t have phones in the locker room.
Chuckling, I type her back as fast as my fingers will work. This is a moment, a moment I can show her that in fact I might have a game, but even during that time right before it, we can still be connected.
Hayden:This isn’t one of those hipster parties where you’re required to put your phone in a bowl before you enter the house. A good amount of the guys have families, and they’re usually FaceTiming with their kids leading up to the game.
Adalyn:I see that you’re trying to prove a point.
Hayden:Is it working?
Adalyn:I don’t really want to talk about that right now.
Hayden:Fair enough. Are you going to watch the game tonight?
Adalyn:I can’t, sorry. We don’t have cable.
We.
One single word can turn my fucking stellar day into pure crap.
We, meaning Adalyn and Logan. From the mere thought of them curling up on her couch together, snuggling to watch me play, causes my stomach to roll and my skin to break out into a sweat. Fucking Logan. I still don’t understand why he’s an outside factor I need to work around.
Needing a second, I take a sip of my water and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to rid of the image of Logan wrapped around Adalyn out of my mind.
“Dude, are you okay?” Chris asks, “You look pale.”
“Fine.” I scratch my beard.
“You don’t look fine. Does this have to do with the person who’s texting you?”
Melting into the locker behind me, the hardwood cutting into my back a bitter welcome. “It’s Adalyn. When she moved out here, her friend moved with her.”
“Logan, right?”
My eyes snap to Chris. “You know about Logan?”
“I know of him.” Chris bites the roll of tape, finishing off a section of his stick. “Shannon was telling me about him the other day, how he’s always at the office, picking up and dropping off Adalyn. He hovers, but when Shannon asks Adalyn about him, all she says is he’s a friend.”
“Yeah, that’s the term I keep hearing too. Friend.”
