Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“You expect something from me for winning, huh?”
“No, but a little friendly bet never hurt anyone. It’ll just give me more reason to win.” As if I needed more reason.
“I’m proud of you no matter what happens, and I believe in you. I already know you’re gonna win. You’re Darren fucking Edwards.”
I laughed. Christ, I loved her. She was strong, and like she’d said about me, loved her family fiercely. And Mia was just like her.
We hung out for a while before I headed out. I thought about seeing what Anson was up to, but I was sure he was spending time with West before we traveled for the game.
Then I considered Elias, but he was always busy with something.
I had other friends, of course, and guys on the team, but a lot of them were married and had families, so I couldn’t just show up at one of their places.
I considered calling Kristi. She lived in Atlanta, and we hooked up from time to time. She was like me—fucking loved sex, never planned to settle down, or get married, or be exclusive and all that shit, so it worked well between us. Even though I enjoyed the single life, I always made sure it was with women who were on the same page as me.
Still, I didn’t call Kristi either. I went home, showered, pulled on a pair of shorts, grabbed my laptop, and lay in bed. I checked social media, posted a photo of myself that had been taken during practice today, and watched the alerts come pouring in.
It was all so…superficial. I was in this weird place in my life where things had started to change. I liked attention, I always had, but the older I got, the more empty it felt. None of these people knew me. They liked me for what I could do, or how many games I won, or what I looked like, or how much money I had.
Fuck, getting older and watching people settle into their lives around me…it was screwing with my head.
I didn’t know why, but that made me think about Jeremy. If I was going through some shit, it had to be worse for him. At least he had an excuse with his divorce.
It was eleven when I picked up my laptop off the mattress beside me, and video called him for the first time.
He was shirtless when he answered. His hair was wet as if he’d just gotten out of the shower, his blond curls messy and glistening against his head. “Not you again,” he said.
“Please, don’t act like this isn’t the highlight of your night…or maybe even your week.”
Jeremy laughed. “You think so highly of yourself. It surprises me sometimes that your neck is able to hold up your head.”
“Do you do that often?” I asked.
He frowned. “What?”
“Think about my head?”
“You know, for a straight guy, you seem to flirt with me pretty often…or at least hope I’m thinking about you in a sexual way.”
My pulse stumbled because…well, he had a point. I shoved those thoughts away. If I did flirt with him, which I clearly did, it was just for fun. We had that kind of friendship. It didn’t mean anything. “Sorry. I guess you’re right. It’s just hard when most people are usually thinking about me sexually.” Jeremy laughed again, and then the phone moved around and he sat down on a bed. The blanket was a light, seafoam green. “Oh God. You have shit taste.”
“If I’m thinking about your head?”
Okay, well, that was bad timing on my part. “No, the green.”
“Hey, fuck off. I like that color.”
“Let me see your room,” I said, which was a weird request and I had no idea why I cared.
There was a flash of something in Jeremy’s gaze…confusion? Me too, buddy. Still, he sighed and flipped the camera, giving me a view of his room. It was nice—the furniture white, with green accents. He had double glass doors and what looked like a balcony.
“That where you lived with Bobby?” I found myself asking.
He showed me his face again. “Yeah, I kept the San Francisco house, and he kept the one in LA. He always spent more time there, and I was always up here anyway. He’ll go back and forth between London and LA.”
I shifted. It was oddly strange thinking about Jeremy in that space with Bobby, even though I didn’t even know what the guy looked like. I decided to change the subject. “How’s work going?”
“I’m not even sure how to answer that. Things have been…different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just…I’ve been thinking about what I do a lot, and…I don’t know, resenting it more, and it’s kind of your fault.”
“What the fuck did I do?”
“Is it your dream job, Jeremy? Or have you wasted your whole life on something you don’t care about?”