Well, that was unexpected. I never thought she would kiss me out of nowhere like that. I mean, I knew she probably still had the hots for me, but the timing was a bit unexpected. I’m not thrilled with having to call a driver to come pick me up from the station. The whole thing is completely unprofessional.

When I get home, I call up Landon. “Yo, come over,” I tell him. “I want to get fucked up.”

“I thought you were over that shit. I just saw you cry on live television,” he laughs. “God, you’re a pussy. You know that, right?”

“The things I do for fame, right?” I laugh back. There’s no way I’m going to let my teammates rag on me for doing what I needed to do.

“Alright, I’m heading in that direction with a bottle of Jameson. I want to watch as you down a glass,” he hangs up the phone.

When he gets here, I’m ready to rage. All that estrogen-based apology stuff has gotten to me. I’m a fucking ball player, for Christ’s sake. I hit people for a living. I don’t get why everyone’s so sensitive nowadays. Shit, they should be making action figures of me that punch.

I grab the bottle of Jameson right from his hands, run out back, and jump into the pool. I might be the only guy in the area with one of these and I love it. I scream with glory, a huge smile plastered on my face. Landon does a flip off the diving board, landing right on his back. We both laugh, gasping for air.

“I think they’ll let you play, man,” Landon says. “That whole show you put on earlier was gold. A-plus, really.”

“Yeah, I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to do it,” I tell him. “But I need to play that game. I want to destroy Arizona. Shit, I’d be playing against some of my old college buddies. Gotta show them who’s boss, you know?”

Landon nods and grabs the bottle from me. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Let’s invite Misty and her friends over. You know, to celebrate. You down?”

I look away for a second, thinking. “Nah, man,” I tell him, getting out of the pool and laying on the hot cement. “I don’t know if I’m feeling up to that right now.”

“Come on, bro,” he says. “You’re not feeling that? What the hell kind of an excuse is that? I’m always feeling Misty. Even in my dreams, I’m feeling her.” He laughs and makes a kissing motion in the air. Normally, it would be funny to me, but for some reason, now it’s not making me laugh.

“Oh God,” he suddenly says. “Don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me.”

“What?” I ask him. “I’m not telling you shit. I’m just not in the mood. It’s been a long day.”

“You’re not speaking the words, but I read you loud and clear,” he says. “You’ve got a thing for that PR bitch, don’t you?”

“Man, first off, don’t call her a bitch. She’s a respectable woman,” I shake my head, suddenly regretting inviting him over. “Second, I don’t have a thing for her. At all. We used to date, so I’ve sort of done that shit already if you see what I’m getting at.”

“I don’t,” he says, getting out of the pool and walking toward my bench press. He dries his hands and sits underneath it. “Come on. Spot me.”

“Fine,” I sigh, getting up and taking another swig. He lifts the weights up and does about 16 presses. I help him put it back on the bar.

“She did kiss me though,” I admit. “It was weird. Like, it came out of nowhere.”

“I fucking knew it!” he yells, clapping his hands and jumping up. “What’d you do? Did you bang it out? Please tell me you’re not going soft on me. You can’t date this woman. You’re too young to settle down.”

“I’m 28, man. I’m not that young anymore,” I laugh. “But, no. I’m not going soft. I just don’t feel like throwing all my money at a stripper right now. Plus, Misty’s been boring me lately. Same old tricks, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugs. “She’s kind of the best there is.”

“Whatever that means,” I laugh. “Nah, man. It’s weird though.”

“What is?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” I sigh, looking away. I shouldn’t be talking about this shit with Landon. He’s too aggressive. He doesn’t understand these things. I doubt he’s ever had a serious girlfriend ever in his life. He doesn’t understand what having history with someone is like. “We were going to get married and shit.”

“What?” he asks, shocked. “What do you mean? Like, today?”

“No, not today, you idiot.” I shake my head. “Like back before I played college ball. We were together for a really long time. We have an extensive history.”

“So, you fucked a lot when you were younger and now you’re wanting to do it all over again,” he says. “Big deal. Fuck her and move on.”

“No, it’s not like that. Come on, man, I’m trying to have a one-on-one conversation with you, as a brother,” I tell him. “We never got that far back then. Her parents were always around us.”

“What? You never fucked her?” he asks. “Jesus, dude. I swear, you’re changing by the second. Who cares then?”

“Never mind,” I tell him, laying down and grabbing the bar above me. I lift the weights up and bring them down, against my chest until I feel the sharp burn of exertion. I put it back on the rack and jump back up. “Go ahead. Call Misty if you want. I’ll be out here, practicing for the game.”

He just groans loudly and walks inside the house. “No thanks, man. I think I’ll just head home. I’ll see you at practice,” he says, opening the front door. “Let’s hope you still kill it at the game. ‘Cause if you don’t, you’re going to let a lot of us down. I may be your teammate, but I look up to you. You never gave a fuck before. I don’t understand what’s happened.”

“See ya later,” I tell him, lifting the weights above my chest again. I do another set and scream loudly as he shuts the door. “Bastard.”

Look up to me? Him? He doesn’t even understand me. He’s some rich boy who grew up in the suburbs. As for me, I grew up in a fucking trailer park. My dad clocked me every time I asked him a simple question. And the only solace I ever felt was in the game, and when I was with Fiona. I made a choice years ago and it was a mistake.

I don’t know. I’m feeling confused right about now. When she kissed me earlier it just clicked. It felt right. It felt like time hadn’t even passed. Now, I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s fucking crazy.

I grab my phone and see her text. She says: Sorry for earlier. It was a huge mistake. I’m so disgusted with myself right now.

Disgusted? Well, she didn’t have to use such harsh language. I reply back. It’s fine. No harm done.

Minutes pass and there’s no text back. I stupidly grab my phone and type out Dinner tomorrow? but I instantly delete it.

“Fuck it,” I say out loud.

An hour later, I get a call from my manager, Sheldon. He tells me I’m good to go on the Arizona game. Great. But now my heart’s all fucked up. Shit, maybe I am going soft.