“Lorelei, I’m positive.”
“Okay, phew. I feel like we could really be good friends, you know? I mean, I’ve never been this into a friend or let them watch me come, but like, this is a new experience? We should probably veto any of that stuff again. Right?”
No. I’d die to see you like that again.
“Mm.”
“I know I’m talking too much and rambling, but I think I’m nervous about where we stand. Your words are reassuring, but your body language isn’t, which I’m not putting this on you. You react how you need to, but oh my god, stop talking, Lorelei,” she mumbled.
“Tell me about your plan when we get there,” I said softly. I knew her pretty well now, and distraction was key when she went on a tangent. Plus, I loved hearing the enthusiasm in her voice. “What’s on the agenda today, and can I help in any way?”
“Ah! Well, Tim set up fifteen-minute interviews with eight residents, and I’m going to film them for sound bites. Then, I have some photos to take, and I want to get the vibe. Make aesthetics for posts and then I’ll work on the newsletter. I asked him yesterday if he could get a group of residents to do some glamour shots, but it was short notice. I’ll play it by ear there.”
“What are you going to actually do with the footage?”
“Social posts about who represents Heath’s Lodge. There’s a nearby high school to the facility, and I sent them an email to maybe partner up for a senior-to-senior prom. Students always need volunteer hours, so why not have a high school kid repaint the building for free? They’ll save money instead of hiring out. I think the crux of my plan is to facilitate making connections.”
“You seem happy.”
“I am. Oodles so.” She beamed at me. “This came from you too. So, when I kick Eric’s ass and get the internship at the end of this year, I’ll make you the biggest cake as a thank you.”
I thought of a million other things I’d like to have as a thank you but kept those in my head. I’d successfully moved us away from horny topics, and it was safer to maintain distance. Even if my dick and head weren’t on the same page.
She stared at me with an expectant look on her face, like she waited for my response. I smiled. “I’ll never say no to a cake.”
“Noted.”
With the shift away from tension, the rest of the drive consisted of her talking through her ideas. She’d start a sentence one way, and midway through, it shifted another direction. Her contagious energy had me second-guessing leaving school after this year for the NFL. She had a vision for her career, and this project would lead to an internship, then a job.
I played football. Sure, every game was a tryout for the NFL. People always watched, and I knew conversations were already happening. Ilikedthe sport because what it provided for me—a secure future for my family, a stable income, a way to never worry about money again. Yet there wasn’t a chance to decide if I loved it in the same way Lorelei loved marketing.
It made my gut twist in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Without football, I wasno one,and I’d made damn sure it was the only path forward.
“Imightneed you to film some things for me. I want to do the half-heart challenge with residents, where you hold your fingers like this.” She curved her fingers and thumb into half a heart. “And you see what the other person does.”
“Interesting.”
“It’s a thing that happens online. I imagine you are very muchnotonline.”
“Correct.” Guys talked about shit all the time, but I refused to get distracted. My teammates were my closest friends, and I saw them every single day. Why would I need another avenue to talk to them?
“Anyway, can you film for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. I have a good feeling about this idea.”
* * *
“Viral, you say?”
“We have twenty thousand views within two hours. Those are solid numbers for me.” Lorelei grinned and showed her phone to my grandma. “I put a specific link in the bio that tracks clicks, and we have thousands of them. Even if ten of those people donate to the account I set up—” Lorelei’s eyes widened “—it’ll be amazing.”
“Youths are fascinating. In my day, we wrote notes. Took turns on the phone. Luca, my boy, you need to help set me up with social medias. If it’s this easy to be connected, I can see if my high school crush is single. Maybe he’s widowed.”
“Grandma,” I blurted out, my face reddening. “That’s not polite.”
“Hush. I stopped giving a shit about being polite three decades ago. Now, Lorelei, tell me more about viral.”
