Page 90 of How to Lose at Love
I shrug, nibbling my bottom lip. “You just give me commitment-phobe vibes, that’s all. Like you have a problem with relationships in general.”
“What makes you say that?”
Yeah, what is making me say that? And why do I care?
Dallas Colter is not my problem, but I did say I wanted to help him using the lessons my parents taught me about relationships, communication being the big one.
“It just seems like…if you were in a relationship, you would have no give and no compromising.”
He fluffs his pillow, leaning into it again once he’s satisfied. “I say what I mean and mean what I say. Is that what makes you think I have no give and no compromise?”
Kind of, yes. But also, no. “I don’t think your problem is that you’re too bold and say what you want. I think your problem is something else.”
“Who said I have a problem to begin with?”
“The only thing you seem to care about is football. You don’t thinkthat’sa problem?”
He snorts. “What else should I care about? I love my family—my brother plays, my younger brothers play, our dad played. Should I be worried about anything else?” He begins a ticking tally on his fingers. “I don’t have a wife, I don’t have a girlfriend, I get good grades, I don’t have to worry about a job. What am I missing, Ryann, that you seem to consider a problem?”
Well, shit.
He sounds so super…insulted.
Perhaps I overstepped and should have kept my mouth shut. Now that he’s listing all these things, who the hell am I to judge how he should behave?
He’s right; he doesn’t have a girlfriend.
Doesn’t want one.
Football is his wife, girlfriend, and mistress.
twenty
dallas
“Admitting you have a small dick is a big dick thing to do.”
– football teammate
Time to goto the gym.
As I lie here, staring at the ceiling, sheets and bedding pooled down near my ankles because I kicked them off my side of the bed, I weave my hands behind my head and lace my fingers together.
“The only thing you seem to care about is football. You don’t thinkthat’sa problem?”
Nope.
Football is my career.
My future.
School is the path to get there. Who cares if I’m hyper-focused on the end game? That doesn’t make me anti-relationship.
Much.
Fine, dating is the absolute last thing on my mind and I don’t give a shit about it. So what if that doesn’t make me a well-rounded individual? My agent seems to be the only one who cares about that, but guess what? I’ve done just fine by myself so far, thankyouverymuch.
And have we forgotten my parents’ fucked-up relationship? My dad cheating on my mom every opportunity he had—while he traveled, while he was in the city for a game—all while Mom sat at home taking care of four young boys.
