Page 57 of Lavender and Linebackers

How could he think that? It was reciprocated! Very much so.

“She told you that?”

“Pretty much. For years, I loved this girl and was afraid to shoot my shot in fear of ruining the friendship. Our friendship meant the world to me.” He glances over at Sully. “She was my best friend for seven years. All of middle and high school. Every day we were together, even on the weekends. She was there through everything: puberty, my parents’ divorce, my offer from Clemson, and even that time I ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. Well, the day came when I finally got up the courage to tell her. We were both heading off to different colleges, and I was certain we were going to ride off into the sunset together. At graduation, I decided it was now or never, and now was the perfect time. I tried to kiss her, and she pushed me away and told me no. Actually, she told me no twice. The horrified look on her face said it all.”

How did he think I looked horrified? Shocked? Yes. But not in a bad way. Just in a way where I needed a pause. This makes my entire being ache with sadness.

Sully doesn’t say anything. I wish I could see his face too, but I’m too busy holding my hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound. I’m sucked back into that last day, trying to see things from his perspective.

“And then, to top it all off, there were two videos taken. The worst was the jumbotron that displayed the faculty speakers and the students walking across the stage while everyone was celebrating; apparently, it decided to pan in on us at that exact moment, and the whole world saw her reject me. People recorded it. Younger classmates from my team, people I don’t even know, and for weeks they sent it to me and laughed. There were memes made. It became a running joke on my new team. Over and over, I was reminded of the most embarrassing, hurtful moment of my life.”

Of course, I saw the jumbotron video. It was sent to me, but only a couple of times that first day. I didn’t realize people were that invested, or that we were made into a joke at his expense. But he said two videos. This makes me think of the random guy from behind us. Did Ryder know he was going to kiss me and set that up to record our first kiss? I thought he dropped his phone, and that guy picked it up and handed it back to him, but maybe I’m wrong about that, too.

“What happened between the two of you after that?”

“Nothing. I went straight home, and my mom found me completely wrecked. She did what moms do, and she got us the hell out of Tampa, where I could hide out alone. She booked us a rental house on Sullivan’s Island, outside of Charleston. I cried for a solid week. I only had that one week too. I was to report to Clemson that following Monday. Most of my stuff had already been packed, so it wasn’t hard for us to leave quickly. My mom and I walked the beach, she cooked all my favorite meals, and we talked about how she got over my dad when he walked out on her. She said the best thing that she ever did for herself was to cut him and everything about him or related to him off cold turkey. That while this was going to hurt badly for a while, eventually it would dull without my emotions being dragged through the mud or yo-yoing.”

“Seems kind of harsh,” he says.

Yes! That is harsh, but what I’m stuck on is that he cried. A lot. Over me, while I was at home crying over him. In all the years I’ve known Ryder, I’ve only seen him cry twice: when he told me about the divorce and when he got the offer to his dream school.

“Maybe. But the only person I had left was my mom. It was easier to do as she suggested. Besides, I had one week to pull my shit together and then walk into that football camp like I was the most excited person in the world. No one wants some poor, brokenhearted schmuck, and I knew that I could never just be her friend. I was past that. There was no in-between and no going back. For me, it was all or nothing, so cold turkey it was.”

Cold turkey. I just . . . can’t.

“I guess I don’t understand why you never talked to her.”

“I just didn’t. That week flew by, and I barely got through it. Then I was submerged into camp with my new team. Besides, I needed to move on. I had to. It is what it is. Water under the bridge at this point.”

I don’t even know what to think right now. I’m gutted. All or nothing. My heart is pounding in my chest. It feels like it’s been broken all over again, and I’m silently crying.

“But what about now?”

“What about it?”

“I’ve seen you guys together. Obviously, you don’t have what you once did, but there’s something there. Tell me why were you cold to her on Sunday?”

“You want to know what happened on Sunday?” He turns to face Sully. “You pissed me off. You brought her up at the wrong fucking time, and I was off my game. I took a breath, a single breath, and that entire play didn’t unfold as it should have. That single breath, that’s another point six seconds, that’s what the jumbotron saw post-play. I had already looked for her. I’m always looking for her. I found her, laid eyes on her to make sure she was okay when I know there’s nothing that’s going to happen to her, and then I fell into myself about the missed play that should have been mine. The play, the handbook, the fraternization you keep shoving down my throat, the campaign, her feelings, my feelings, the play . . . it was all cycling through my brain when the only thing at that moment I should have been thinking about was my job. The play.”

“I’m sorry about the timing.”

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing we can do about it now except get me faster.”

Sully clamps his hand on Ryder’s shoulder.

“What are you going to do about Alice?”

“I’m not going to do anything. Finish this campaign and leave her alone. That’s what she wants.”

Is that what I want? I don’t know anymore. Right now, I’m stunned by his words and his take on what he thinks happened that day versus what happened to me.

“But what do you want?” Sully stands, and Ryder follows.

“It doesn’t matter. It never did.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

I’m too numb to move as the two of them round the edge of the bleachers to leave. Tears are dripping down my face, and there’s not much I can do to stop them. There’s much to unpack in what I just heard.