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My neck stretches to look over the seats. All I can see from this vantage point is the top of his head. He’s buzzed his hair short again. I feel like it's more proof that we're over, because I know he kept it long on top for me. So I could rake my hands through it, grip it tightly in my fist while I used his mouth for my pleasure.
"Would you like another bourbon, sir?" The flight attendant moves into the aisle next to me, blocking what little view I have and thankfully breaking me out of my inappropriate thoughts before anyone notices.
I reposition the suit jacket I have laying over my lap and nod. "One more, and then I'm cutting myself off. Thank you."
She smiles down at me, pouring a little airplane bottle of Maker's Mark over ice. Her hair and makeup are so pristine she could be a walking Barbie doll. She looks a little like my ex wife, actually. Except maybe nicer.
I've been thinking a lot about Penny. I read an article yesterday that she gave birth to her third child with my former friend and teammate, Vance Mitchells. They seem happy together, and it made me glad for her. Through all of this, I've made some big realizations. Whereas before I was filled with bitterness over her leaving me to chase the lifestyle she wanted, I would have been more miserable with her than I was alone. I now know I never actually loved her, and she obviously didn't love me.
The reason I know I didn't really love her is because I didn't know what that feeling was until now.
That terrible, painful, overwhelming gnawing inside my chest whenever I see Aniyah lean over to whisper in his ear? As mad as I was about Penny leaving me for Vance, I didn't feel this way about it.
And the way my chest fills like a hot-air balloon whenever I see him walk into a room, or out on the field, and I get to share space with him. I never felt that way about her. About anyone.
The flight attendant hands me my glass and moves up the aisle, checking on the needs of the other first-class passengers. As she clears out of the space between us, I notice Jack looking at me. His gaze drops to the glass in my hands, and then back up at my eyes. I see his concern. I'm fine, though. I haven't had more than one or two drinks here and there while out celebrating with the rest of the coaching staff, and I haven't been drinking at home at all. But he doesn't know that. Doesn't need to know.
He whispers something in Aniyah's ear and kisses her on the cheek. My stomach twists, but his eyes hold my gaze as he gets up from his seat and walks past me, presumably to the restroom. Following him would be too obvious, and despite the fact that he was just making eye contact with me for the first time in days, I didn't get the feeling he was asking me to. Don't be pathetic, Bryant.
The plane hits a spot of turbulence, and my hand bumps against the armrest. Bourbon splashes out of the glass and all over my hand. It isn't much, but I should probably wash my hands. I hand the glass to the flight attendant, who hurries over with napkins, and walk to the back of the plane. Not following him. Just not wanting to smell like booze when we land and meet the journalists and other bigwigs that will be waiting for us when we land.
As I'm opening the curtained area where the restrooms are, Jack is starting to make his way out. He steps back out of my way, and I go to close the curtain behind me, but he holds it open.
"She's watching," he says, but then quickly pulls back and kisses the side of my mouth. It happens so fast I could almost think I imagined it, and then he's gone, walking back down the aisle like nothing happened.
My eyes are glued to his back, confusion pulling my brows together. Then I notice the young brunette watching me watch him, a smug look on her face at the way Jack seems to be ignoring me, and I close the curtain.
Loud applause fills the room after Jack Perry is announced as the winner of this year's Heisman Trophy Award. I watch as he stands and shakes hands with the other contenders, graciously accepting congratulations from his would-be competitors. No one is surprised, except for maybe Jack. As cocky as the bastard is, he still doesn't seem to believe the track to stardom he's on.
Before he walks up to the stage to accept the award and make his speech, he turns around and heads to where I'm sitting.
Correction. To where she is sitting. He lifts Aniyah up in a big hug and whispers something in her ear, while she stares up at him with stars in her eyes. He shakes hands with everyone sitting around us, the other coaches and random strangers. When he gets to me, he grips my hand tightly and pulls me in for a one-armed hug.
"Thank you for everything, Coach," he says loudly enough for everyone to hear. But then he lowers his voice and whispers, "I'm sorry."
After giving Aniyah one last kiss on her cheek, he runs up to the stage, where everyone starts applauding again.
"Thank you so much for this great honor. I know I already wasted some of your time by going back to kiss my girl and thank my coach, but I have to give credit where it's due. Coach Bryant Nicks is the one that gave me the chance that changed everything for me. I'm a nobody from the backwoods of Alabama, and he and the coaches at Groveton saw something in me. I'll never forget that," he says, and looks me in the eye with what looks like sadness. Or pain. "This month is about to be the biggest month of my life so far. Thanks to all of you, I was chosen to win this prestigious award, I'm playing in the Texas Bowl in Houston a few weeks from now, the Groveton Jackals are on our way to a national championship… and I'll be spending the holidays with the most beautiful girl on my arm, who’s told me she'll follow me wherever I go next."
He winks at Aniyah, who yells out, "I love you, baby!"
The crowd erupts in awws and applause, and Jack stays up there for another few minutes to finish his speech. I don't hear another word. Everything spins around me and I feel like there's cotton in my ears. How anyone else could hear that as anything but a threat feels insane to me. Instead, he looks so genuine, especially when he jumps off the stage, trophy in hand, and Aniyah meets him halfway. She throws her arms around him, looking for all the world like the happiest girl on earth.
"You're mad." His voice comes from behind me, following me into the restroom.
"Shouldn't you be posing for pictures?" I realize how it sounds when it comes out of my mouth and take a breath. "I don't mean that as a jab. I'm serious. You'll be taking photos and doing interviews for hours."
"I did a bunch and asked for a quick break, gave them the idea that my stomach hurts, so the staff directed me to this bathroom. They said it's less busy. I didn't even know you were back here," he says defensively. I was kind of enjoying the idea that he'd followed me back here, despite my protests. "I'm not great with crowds,” he huffs.
"Me either," I chuckle. An awkward silence hangs over us, and I shove my hands in my pockets. I didn't even need to use the restroom. I just wanted to get away. Because he's right, I am upset. And I couldn’t watch her hanging all over him like she was the trophy he should be so proud of.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I'm happy for you."
"It's not like that, Brya?—"
"Coach,” I correct him quickly. Lowering my voice, I add, “anyone could walk in here.”
