I flex my hands when I realize my fingers are curled into fists. “This sucks.”
“It’s almost over,” he reassures me.
It won’t finish fast enough for my satisfaction.
Watching this dog and pony show in celebration of retiring Ash’s uniform number is pure torture. Witnessing the family that I used to consider myself part of gather around Ash as they hand him a glass-framed Fresno State jersey with his number and name on the back of it is killing me slowly.
I should be with them, congratulating Ash, standing among the Callahans. Ava by my side and her father going on about how proud he is of all the men in his life. Beck looking up to Ash and me.
Oh yeah, and Jake too, I guess.
My mind starts to wonder. I’m bored. Anxious. Frustrated as shit. Ready to be done with this so the game can start. I glance around the field, up at the stands, smiling faintly when I see a group of girls wearing matching Bulldog T-shirts and holding up a giant sign that says, “You’re our #1 Eli!” The words are surrounded by vivid red hearts.
Maybe that’s what I should be focusing on. Other girls. Women. I’ve fucked the same girl for years. I could try and sample something new and different.
Disgust rolls through me. What a shitty thing to think. I don’t want someone new and different.
Not at all.
“Your groupies,” Tony says, his gaze zeroed in on them too.
“They’re cute,” I tell him.
He snorts.
Asshole.
My gaze skitters past the cluster of Callahans, who are now taking photos with Ash, the family surrounding him on all sides. I stop on Ava when I realize she’s staring right at me.
She doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
I clench my jaw tighter, my entire expression hardening, I can feel it. I narrow my eyes at her, wanting her to see my anger. My frustration with her. With everyone.
She abandoned me. Just like everyone else does. My mom’s gotten better, but she’s still flighty. Dad and Ryan could give a shit about me most of the time, though Ryan’s busy. I get it.
Not really, but I try to be understanding.
All I’ve got are my friends, and at one point, I thought I had my girl.
Ava proved me wrong.
And she currently won’t stop looking at me.
I tear my gaze from hers first, focusing on the words the announcer is saying. We’re about to start the game. The photos with Ash are almost over, thank the good lord Jesus. The team surges forward, crowding around me and I realize—not for the first time—that I’m their leader. They look up to me. They need me to show them what we’re going to do next.
My eyes find Ava again and she’s still watching me, her lips curved in a barely there smile that gives me the first real glimmer of hope that I’ve felt in months.
But it’s complete bullshit. I have to remind myself of that before I become lost in that pretty smile.
I glance to my left. Then to my right, pretending she might be smiling at someone else. But, of course, I know she’s smiling at me.
I send her a what the fuck are you doing look and she frowns.
Gives me the finger. Subtly.
I almost want to laugh. This girl…fuck.