Page 62 of I Want to Know What Love Is

“After the season?”

“Why wait? No time like the present. If she’s a fan, bring her around after a game.”

“I’ll do that.”

Once I leave the car and the good feeling of squaring things with Coach Ryan—because hell, I’ll always think of him as Coach Ryan, my friend, and not Kevin my date—I walk up the short path to my house and the night’s encounter with Dylan comes crashing down on me.

Inside the door, I embrace Paul and let him lick my face. And to finish off my cliché, I go to the freezer and share a gallon of peppermint stick ice cream with the best, least complicated guy in my life. The only one I always know how to deal with.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dylan

The season rushes to a close with the last two games split one and one. Our first and only loss of the season, which I need to work real hard at convincing myself was not all on me though I played a shitty game with my concentration off, was still a close one at 21-20. But the whole team played shitty, including the defense and the coaches were generous with spreading the blame. Toughening up after a withering lecture from Coach Radz and a threat to take me out and put Bane in if I didn’t show some fire, I redeemed myself and the whole team showed up for the last game in a blow-out win 30-6.

During that time, I saw Amanda only once, and only by chance. I was in the field house on my way to the weight room. Emily stopped me to talk, or I should say to flirt, except the flirting was embarrassingly one-sided. We were outside the practice basketball court where she’d been doing foul shots well after the rest of the team left and Amanda walked through the doors. She looked between us and gave me a cold stare telling me with her eyes—those spectacular eyes of hers—that I should be ashamed of myself for leading her player on. At least that’s how I chose to interpret her cool gaze.

But her gaze could have been telling me I was not welcome in her orbit and to stay the fuck away as we agreed. Either way, Emily didn’t notice the frost and as I walked away she asked Amanda in a hush about the wedding this weekend. “Do you have a date?”

I slowed my steps so I could eavesdrop because I have no shame when it comes to Amanda. I strained to hear her answer and she rewarded me with a clear and concise statement.

“I’m going to the fucking wedding and I’m not taking a date and they can talk and feel sorry for me all they want because I don’t give a fuck what any of them think.”

It was a lie. I know her bravado when I hear it and that was a gold-medal example.

Trotting down the front stairs of BMOC House, I join the guys in the main room and take the chair of honor, the house president’s chair, an old but comfortable recliner front and center of the giant television. The stadium’s jumbotron has nothing on our screen.

It’s Friday night and The Heisman Trophy ceremony is coming on Monday night. The latest coverage is on Sports Network now. They’ll choose the winner Monday. I’m one of the finalists because the BC quarterback got hurt and didn’t play the last two games giving me a chance to fill the void and snatch a few votes from him. That’s what the sportscasters are saying as we watch now. There are a half dozen of us gathered before dinner, plus Dooley and Heather by invitation. There’s plenty of room at the table since some of the guys took off this weekend, our first free weekend since the summer while we wait for our upcoming bowl game. SPU, ranked 5th nationally, got an invite to the Fiesta Bowl and that’s as far as we’ll get this year. It’s only a disappointment after making the national championship last year, because otherwise we had a kickass year.

One sports analyst says, “Jones did well this year but it wasn’t his best. We’ll see if he does better next year. If he comes back—"

“That’s bullshit,” Jasper says. He stands and flings on his jacket. “You rocked it this year and you’d have made the final list with or without the BC QB’s injured ass.”

“Don’t listen to those TV people,” Heather says. “You’re the best, Dylan.” She smiles.

“You should be a cheerleader,” I say to her, meaning it. “Why aren’t you?” I happen to know she has some skills. Shelby found out she was a gymnast when she was younger. He’s finding out a lot of things about her, even right now as he holds her in his lap. I bet he has a boner by the flushed look on her face.

“I couldn’t... I wouldn’t feel comfortable in front of all those people in the stadium. Do you know how many people watch football games every week?” Her voice rises to Minnie Mouse levels.

“I never counted, sweetheart. Tell me about it,” Shelby says and then pulls her in, nuzzling her, making her blush furiously and then giggle. Watching them warms my heart. For at least a second before I remember I can’t have anything like it with the woman I want.

“I’m barely a contender. A dark horse,” I say. “They’re not even sending cameras to the house to get my reaction.”

“That’s a sin,” Dooley says. “I thought they always sent cameras. Shame on them.”

“When did you find that out?” Shelby says. Jasper stands by the door waiting to hear my answer with an angry scowl.

“The same phone call when they told me I was a finalist. They asked if I’d be coming down to New York and when I said no, they said they wouldn’t be able to send a camera crew to my house because two of the other guys couldn’t make it either. And apparently I’m last in line and they ran out of cameras.” I laugh shrug as if it’s nothing, but in truth it hurt, even if I have no expectation of winning.

“That’s just wrong,” Jasper says and gives me a bro-hug. “I gotta go. Can’t wait to see my girl, but I’ll be back for the Heisman watch party. I’m rooting for you, man.”

I slap his back and he leaves. Majik rings the bell for dinner and I shut off the TV.

“Man he must love that girl of his to leave before dinner,” Shelby says. We settle into the dining room and Majik rolls in a cart laden with food. It looks good and smells better, but my gut is too jittery to eat. And the jitters have nothing to do with the upcoming Heisman vote and everything to do with Amanda going to her ex-fiancée’s wedding tomorrow. Without a date.

* * *

Well after dinner, I’m still pacing in my room, but I’ve come to a decision. I send a text to Dooley, Shelby and Trey telling them to meet me here in thirty minutes. It’s a crazy request because it’s a rare free Friday night and they all have big plans, big things going on and they wanted to include me but I turned all invitations down. I can only hope they’ll drop whatever they’re doing and come because they know it’s a distress call and these are my best friends. I wish Jasper were here, but he’s long gone, taking the free weekend to go home and spend time with his girl in Philly.