CHAPTER ELEVEN
LEIGH
"I'm just saying, no one knows what's in a fucking sausage." Sealy gestures wildly with her beer bottle and shakes a finger in Clark's face. "Ask Leigh about those nasty documentaries she watches!”
“Don’t bring me into this. I love brats.”
“It's a travesty. We shouldn't eat it."
"I don't know what's in your pussy, either, but I still eat it." Clarks shrugs with a smirk and tends to the meat on the grill with a finesse that almost hedges on a love affair. Heath slaps him with a high-five and finally brings the beer I asked for five minutes ago.
"Evans threw the most perfect spiral in the history of man." Heath sighs with heavy admiration. "That was a thing of beauty, Leigh. Warhol would paint it in a heartbeat."
"What is the deal with this Warhol thing?" Clark asks, ignoring Sealy's continued bratwurst postulation. "You've mentioned it like four times."
"It's funny." Heath shrugs and shoots me a wink. "Don't be upset because the art joke goes over your head."
"Who the fuck uses an art joke?"
"We do." I grin back at Heath, but his attention has already wandered back to the TV inside their tiny rent house. "Why don't you just move that out here?"
"Because we're broke college kids who are using a free TV that doesn't do fancy shit like that."
"It's just a matter of cabling." Sealy peeks inside to look at their setup. "Or using a stick for the internet, you know? Stream it that way. We use that at the apartment."
"Down in front!" Heath calls.
"It's just the highlight reel." Sealy shrugs but ducks out of the way. "The game isn't on for another thirty minutes."
"The pre-game is just as important as the actual game." Clark tells her.
He's so patient with her. Guys like Jack and Wayne have no patience for anyone who doesn't like the same shit they do and those were the exact kind of guys Sealy always ended up with. She never stood for it, so the end was always explosive, but it's nice to watch her with someone nice for once.
Sort of, surprisingly, like Heath has turned out to be. The kind of gentleman I never expected who loved to reciprocate orgasms and open doors for me when we grabbed lunch during study breaks.
"Everything okay?" Heath nudges me gently with his elbow. "You've been staring at my devilishly handsome face."
"Can you blame me?" I nudge him back, which is always sort of laughable. He's like a mountain and I'm a blade of grass. The urge to wrap myself in his arms pulses through me, but it flies against everything we established. I polish off my beer instead and try to focus on Clark's grill master skills.
"I'm just saying, y'all wouldn't stick around for pre-game commentary of a fashion show." Sealy shrugs and crams half a brat in her mouth with a sultry wink to Clark. He kisses her cheek.
"Sure I would. Tons of boobs to scope out. Besides, all this will be worth it once you get to see some sweet football ass."
"My favorite." I smack Heath on the ass. He turns and rubs it against me while Clark and Sealy cheer from the grill.
"Hey, they're talking about Jerzyk." Clark drops his tongs and the boys scurry inside.
"So much for my lap dance." I pretend to sigh and load up a brat on the pretzel buns we swiped from work. "Always second to football."
"I thought that was the arrangement anyway." Sealy says very pointedly and sips her beer loudly.
I frown at her. "It is. I was only kidding."
"Mmhmm."
"Shut up. It works for us."
"I don't know how you do it, dude." Sealy shakes her head and peaks in through the window. "You guys have this crazy chemistry and you refuse to acknowledge it. It's all jokes and whatever, but nothing serious? No stealing kisses between bites of sausage? No holding hands when you walk through the quad?"
"First, ew to the sausage kisses. Second, we do whatever we feel like. There's just the understanding that nothing serious will come of it. It's fun. Fun is good, Seal."
"Which explains why you stare at him all gooey-like and he's pretended to scratch the back of his head three times instead of put his arm around you. Right. Super fun."
"We have priorities that you should understand." I say firmly. "Football and outer space don't mix. And you've been on me for months to go have fun! Here I am, having fun, when I should be writing a paper. You're welcome."
"Okay, weirdos." Sealy shrugs.
The boys don’t return, camped out on the couches, so we squeeze between them. This Jerzyk guy is apparently having a terrible season and they are sparing no expense highlighting just how bad it is.
"What is his deal?" Sealy makes a face. "When you're paid millions, you better perform."
"His wife filed for divorce at the start of the season and is trying to take everything." Heath says, a heavy edge to his voice. "The house, the kids, all his money. That guy busts his ass every day to play ball and she's trying to take everything."
"It's pretty shitty. The least she could have done was wait until the offseason." Clark says.
"Or just slithered back into the hole she came from." Heath mutters.
"Well, what did he do?" I ask. Heath stares at me. "My parents are divorced and my mom always said it was a two-way street. One person may shoulder more of the blame than the other, but it takes two. Maybe he was a shit husband."
"Okay, so leave the shit husband. Don't rob the man of the fucking life he created."
"They created."
"He created." Heath stressed. He shifts to the edge of the couch cushion, jostling me from leaning against him. "If it was really that bad, if he was really that terrible, she can go and start her own life. Trying to ruin his because she hated him is petty as shit."
"Sure, unless he also pulled some shit. That was half her life, too. It's not fair she has to lose everything because he sucked."
"Maybe they were both assholes." Sealy jumps in. "That guy looks like a douche and so does she. So who cares? Douches deserve to be treated like shit both ways."
"Jerzyk is not the only guy this happens to in the league. Pay attention to it for more than five minutes. Full of gold diggers who tear these dudes apart for the money they broke themselves to earn." Heath pushes himself off the couch and points at the screen. "That dude is a fucking legend. This is bullshit."
"The league is also full of wife beaters, drug users, and felons." I say, unable to stop myself. Heath is almost scary upset but the words pour out. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"
Heath takes a sip from his beer and looks away. "That's not going to be me."
"Anyone want a beer?" Clark stands up with a strained grin on his face. "Or some Fireball? This party needs a little Fireball."
"I'd love some!" Sealy jumps up and forces a big smile on her face. "You're like my little Pitbull. Leigh? Heath?"
I shake my head and watch Heath, who breathes hard and chugs the rest of his beer down. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. I know how important this career is to him, but I hate watching guys crap all over women just because they want to maintain their lives, too.
I watched it with my parents. I know the stories aren't always what they look on the outside. Shouldn't he know the same, coming from the other perspective?
Clark eventually clears his throat and says he's going to check on the grill. Sealy follows behind him after shooting me a reassuring smile and mouthing Good luck.
"Maybe Sealy's right. Maybe they all suck anyway." I say, trying to sound nonchalant, but it comes out tight. "It doesn't really matter anyway, right?"
Heath's frustration is palpable as he swallows hard and shrugs. "Probably not. He fell apart before the end of last season, too."
"Sounds like there's a lot of pressure on ball players."
"You can't even begin to imagine."
I want to tell him it's the same for those of us in STEM, those of us trying to explore an area that is wildly unknown, those of us who want to better humankind. He'd probably get upset about that, too.
"That won't be you." I get up and squeeze his hand. "I know it won't."
He squeezes back, but relief doesn't reach his eyes.