I pull back and reach up to smack him on the head. He dodges it and pats my head playfully.
“Nice try,” he says, laughing.
“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Let’s get you inside before you melt out here in the Tampa Bay sun. You are probably not used to humidity like this in September,” I tease him.
He nods, wheeling his large suitcase forward so that he can guide it into my apartment. “I’m sure not. I mean, it’s warm back home, but not like this.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I tell him.
He nods again and follows me in.
Since this is the first time he has seen my apartment, I take a moment to look around, trying to see it through his eyes. I have minimal knickknacks sitting around, just photos. Photos of me with my club team when I was a teenager, my high school team, my girls from UNC and the girls that I’ve come to call my family here in Tampa. I have a small collection of framed articles that have been written about me sitting on the bookcase. My mom used to always track them down and mail them to me. I made an offhand comment about it once, and now Jase had Cindy in the PR office clip all the articles for me.
“I can’t believe that you play for this prick.” He picks up the group picture that August is in. It was taken at the Backwoods one night after a win. Mac had printed them for us and I had it framed. It’s a good picture of everyone. I just can’t believe Ash spotted him in the picture.
“He drafted me. It was a shot to play professional soccer, Ash. There is no way I would turn that down,” I remind him.Annoyance flickers in my chest; he doesn’t trust me. He still thinks of me as that heartbroken teenager he saw after August fled UNC.
He shakes his head. “Does history not mean anything to you?”
I nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. “It does. But if it helps you, I don’t think his dad remembers who I was. Maxwell Cromwell was the one that built the team.”
“No, it doesn’t help me. I was the one who found you, Hendrix,” he reminds me, staring me down, daring me to defend August or his father for what I had done to myself because of them. “You were in such a bad place that winter break and we almost lost you...” His voice trails off.
“I know. But things are fine here. We don’t really interact. He just hangs out with the guys that I hang out with. There are a couple of jabs thrown around but other than that, nothing.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.
“Uh-huh. You shouldn’t be anywhere near him.” His voice is icy and final. Based on the cold stare he’s giving me, I think he’d pack me up and move me home, contract be damned.
“I’m fine, Ash,” I say, trying to reassure him.
“He’s standing right beside you in the picture,” he says, holding the picture out for me to take.
I look down at it. Staring at him and I. Both of our eyes are shining with happiness. What Ash can’t see is that August’s arm was around my waist. But the row of my friends in front of me hides it.
“Well, at this moment of the picture, all of my friends were coupled up.” I point out each girl and show him who they are dating. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”
“Uh-huh. Well don’t expect me to be nice to him.”
I sigh. “You have to be. The game against Portland is tomorrow, and I asked Danny to bring you to the box with him. That way you don’t have to watch alone.”
“And he’ll be there?” he asks.
“Well, yeah,” I shrug. “It’s the owner’s box.”
He nods. “And then what, we’ll all go and hang out together?”
“Probably,” I say, shrugging and diverting my eyes to the floor.
“I see.”
I look up at him and plead, “Please just be civil with him. He’s my boss. No one is asking you to be besties. Just coexist the same way we do and not kill one another.” He just stares at me until I add, “For me?”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “Fine, for you I will be civil. But I’m not going out of my way to talk to him.”
“That’s all I ask,” I say, placing the picture back onto the shelf.
Ash turns and studies the other pictures and articles. Thankfully, the tense moment has passed. I make a mental note to ask Danny to keep August and Ash separate during the game.
“The Wall,” Ash says, looking at one of the framed articles. “They call you ‘the Wall.’ That is so awesome,” he says, turning and beaming with pride.
