it was good. Basic starting meeting
can’t wait to tell Blair
don’t freak her out
you guys just started not being idiots
i’m not going to freak her out
you don’t even have anything to show her yet
i’d wait
like don’t you have enough going on. Bigmatchup tomorrow
I didn’t think about that. There’s not really anything to tell, or show. If there’s a moment where it feels there’s a natural opening, I’ll tell, but if not… I’ll wait until I have a little more.
Teague hasn’t ever given me bad advice. Well, as an adult. When we were kids, he used to tell me all types of shit that was hilariously horrific. Like when he was getting me to layer puka shell necklaces the first day of ninth grade. Or, when he said that guys who danced with girls at the dances were stupid–that one I figured out halfway through homecoming and ended up being the talk of the grade.
Maybe he’s right about this, though?
Thirty-One
Blair
“Thisfeelsweird,”Isay, holding hands with Tyson in the car as we pull up to the practice facility.
He squeezes my fingers with his. “No one can see. We’re friends, plus it’s not your fault that your car needs work done.”
I roll my eyes at his fabricated lie and let my head fall back on the head rest, catching his wink just in time. Grabbing my travel coffee mug, I down the rest of the brewed cup—a special blend that Tyson got me for my birthday, one I finally opened. It’s a dark roast, rich and smooth, and like it has the ability to make me run faster than usual. I love it.
Coach Dylan asked for me to come early so we could have a quick meeting and it seemed to perfectly align with Ty’s in time, so, carpool? Save the planet and stuff, right? Or just not be able to pull yourself from your boyfriend long enough to have time to go home and get your own vehicle.
Boyfriend.Even though the internal thought catches me off guard, the smile hits my lips as I turn and look out the window. We’re walking towards the staff offices, which is on the way to the men’s locker room, and it sounds like someone is getting their ass handed to them with the door open. Tyson looks at me, brows furrowed. We’re only a few steps away and there’s clearly something going on in there.
“We should go,” I suggest, grabbing Ty’s arm and trying to turn him.
He shushes me. “Wait. I heard your name.” Waving me over, we get closer to the door, and try to listen.
It’s not hard to hear, considering the person doesn’t know how to speak at a reasonable level. And immediately, I know who it is.
Rolling my eyes, I lean in and whisper, “It’s Oscar. Benny’s loser agent or whatever.”
Tyson’s brows raise. “How do you know that?” He leans in, still trying to listen.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve heard him complain about me. The day you left for home early, I was trying to check with the staff, seeing if you were getting treatment or something, and he was in here doing the same thing, or that’s what it sounds like.”
“What’s his problem?”
“Now? I don’t know. Previously, he was mad about me taking up his client’s roster spot.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Benny’s out this year.”
“Right, that’s what Dylan told him. After he kicked him out of the office.”
“What the fuck?” The look on Tyson’s face is priceless.
We get close enough, keeping our steps quiet, until we’re right outside the doorway.
