Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Don’t sound so shocked. Come over. He’ll tell you what’s wrong with it.”
The foot of the crutch catches on a rock. I almost fall and in the process stab myself in the armpit. Tears of frustration prick my eyes as I adjust the crutch under my aching pit. When I don’t answer, she presses, “Alice?”
“Life sucks rotten eggs.” My voice breaks as I fight back tears of frustration.
“Oh, sweetheart. Take life with a grain of sugar and it won’t seem so bad.”
“You mean salt?” I say wiping a stray one away with the back of my hand.
“No, I mean sugar. Life’s salty enough, dear.”
Reagan
“Yo, Rea,” Cole yells from the other side of the Cantina, the bar overlooking the beach were we usually hang. It’s got peanut shells covering the scuffed-up wood floors, large television screens strategically placed around the bar, and the kind of vibe that makes you never want to leave. The nachos also happen to be awesome.
He waves me over to a table already littered with beer bottles. All the guys are already here. Brock and Cole Peterman. Dallas. Warner Moss, a recent transfer from UCLA and probably the most naturally talented player on the starting lineup. Shane Westbrook, a sophomore who earned a spot when three of our top players graduated. And lastly, Quinn Smith, our notorious goalie.
Tuesday is twofer night so the place is packed, filled to capacity with girls looking to hook up with all the athletes and the occasional celebrities that hang here.
I fall in an empty chair next to Dallas and eyeball a clip of last weekend’s UCLA Bruins game on the television over the bar.
“Well?” Cole starts. Uncrossing his arms, he holds them open and makes a face that says get on with it. “We’re waiting to hear what happened with phone-tree girl.”
Cole and Brock Peterman are fraternal twins, two of the best defensive specialists in the country, and as opposite in every way as two brothers could possibly be. I’ve known them since elementary school, their father being the minister of the church my parents attend.
Brock is twenty-one going on eighty, quiet, and laid-back. I’m almost one hundred percent certain he has never in his life strayed from the righteous path. At least, I’ve never witnessed it and I’ve been around the guy most of my life.
His brother, to put it nicely, is a machine. Competitive to the point of being obnoxious, and completely untrusting of any human that was not born with a dick––a mystery I have yet to solve.
I assume it’s the handywork of the girl he dated in high school, but he’s never spoken of it to me. He’d throw down for any one of us, though. The stories of his loyalty are legendary. Which is why we all put up with his bullshit.
Blowing out a deep breath, I stretch my neck side to side. “Shut down, man. She shut me down.” I’ve never met a girl so desperate to be rid of me.
A bunch of snickers come from the peanut gallery. One comedian shouts, “Crash and burn, Mav?”
“Man––” Cole shakes his head, presses down a smile. He crosses his arms again, jams his hands under his pits, thumbs over his pecs. His chair tips back, balancing on two legs. “Never thought I’d live to see the day. What happened to always be closing?”
“This isn’t about my dick, bro. I’m just trying to help the girl out.”
“So says you.”
Whatever Cole thinks he’s onto, he’s dead wrong. As soon as I correct the damage I’ve caused, I’ll put this entire business––including Alice Bailey––behind me. This is the last year that belongs to me and only me. To do as I wish. Next year there will be medical school, and my father riding my ass for the following eight to ten. It’s not like I’m planning to burn through co-eds like Dallas and Cole, but I’m also not about to squander the time on a relationship that won’t last.
I level him with an irritated stare. “Yeah.”
The attention leaves me when highlights of the Bruins game show their star running back, a projected first-round pick in next year’s NFL draft, fracturing his leg. The injury gnarly as he hyperextends it in the wrong direction. That guy’s whole world just ended.
Welcome to the glamorous world of college sports.
Most people have no idea the sacrifices we make. Of our time. Our bodies. All the injuries. Most of which do have long-term effects. Then again, it’s the only means of escape some of us have.
Dallas leans in. “What are you going to do now that Penny’s gone?”
Penny was last year’s convenience lay. Over the summer she moved to New York to get married. She said she was sure her fiancé had a piece on the side too. Whoever tells you long-distance relationships work has never been in one.