“Why did I invite you over?”
“Because I’m the only person who puts up with you for long periods of time?”
“You have me there,” I joked back. “Want a beer?”
“Sure.”
I grabbed two bottles from the fridge, then joined him on the couch. Bashful was playing in Tampa Bay. Jeremy and I were both in DC for a long week that started early the next morning, so we’d decided to take a break to watch the game together.
Tampa Bay kicked off just as I opened my drink, and it was a brutal game straight from the start. My phone sat on the arm of the couch beside me, and I really wanted to pick it up and text Anson. I liked doing the running-commentary-of-the-game thing for him, but I worried Jeremy might see.
Tampa Bay scored first. “Fuck.” I took a drink, then set the bottle on the coffee table. The Lightning gained some yardage on the second down. Darren said something to the guys before the next play, and when the ball snapped, Anson shot around defenders. One motherfucker was on his ass, and he struggled to shake him. He got a bit of distance, and Darren threw a bullet straight to him. He jumped, caught it, and was promptly slammed onto the ground by two guys. “Fuck,” I said again, but Anson got up like it was nothing while my heart tried to batter its way out of my chest. How in the hell did he take hits like that all the time?
I ran a hand through my hair and felt Jeremy’s eyes on me. Maybe I was into the game too much for someone who months earlier couldn’t have cared less. I leaned back on the couch and tried to pretend it didn’t matter.
“You okay, buddy?” Jeremy asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You almost lunged at the television before pulling your hair out.”
“It was a hard hit!” I countered.
“It’s football. That’s what football is.”
Well, yes, but it was also Anson and, yeah, couldn’t go there. Note to self: don’t ever invite Jeremy over to watch the Lightning play again.
At halftime, I took my phone into the bathroom like a teenager sneaking around.
Me: Jesus, it’s brutal out there today. Can you maybe stop getting tackled now? It’s not good for my health. It really stresses me out to see you hit the ground. Tell them I said to leave you alone.
After I hit Send, I stared at my phone. What the hell was wrong with me? If I could retract those messages, I would do it in a second. I didn’t think a ha-ha, just kidding would work either. Why was this guy messing with my head so much? I didn’t feel like myself anymore, at least not when it came to him. Sure, I was always flirty and joked around, but I felt needy and legitimately worried.
Me: So, funny story. I was abducted by aliens. It’s all your fault.
I shoved my phone into my jeans pocket, took care of business, then went back into the living room to watch football like a normal human being and not some worried boyfriend or something.
I needed to get laid. When was the last time I’d had any kind of sex outside of what Anson and I had done over his bye week?
The fact that I couldn’t remember spoke volumes.
“Why are you frowning?” Jeremy asked.
“I’m not.” Great. Now I couldn’t even control my facial expressions. This alien-abduction thing was going too far. Maybe I needed to stop talking to him. It would happen eventually. What was the point of continuing? It would just make me want him more, and I’d never been good when I couldn’t have what I wanted.
“Shit. I forgot my eyes were broken,” Jeremy replied.
“Sorry, I just…have a lot on my mind.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
I shook my head. I didn’t really talk when it came to serious stuff, but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. Not about Anson. When had this gotten so hard? Maybe the more important question was why had it gotten so hard? It was supposed to be fun, and that was it, but now I was…who knew what the fuck I was doing, but I didn’t like it.
We finished the game with me on the edge of my seat the whole time. Anson scored once, and the Lightning managed to pull out a win thanks to a lucky field goal.
Jeremy left not long after, and I deleted the texts as if that made a difference. If I couldn’t see them, I hadn’t sent them, and I didn’t have to contemplate why Anson affected me so much.
It was late that night, and I was lying in bed, when my phone buzzed. Logic told me to ignore it, but I was impulsive, and also, I just didn’t want to because I knew it would be him.