Scarlett presses her hand to my leg. “Is he why you’re not going pro? Because I still don’t get that.”
I shake my head. “No, he’s not the entire reason. I mean, he’s not a reason, because it’s a combo of everything.”
“Did your mom say something to you over winter break about it?” I look away and Scarlett nudges my leg. “I freaking knew it. What did she say?”
“Doesn’t matter. I know she didn’t mean it to crush my dreams, but to gain perspective.”
“Perspective? What’s that bullshit? Listen, your mom is a nice lady and all, but she wouldn’t know what a goal was if it slapped her big old boob around. She’s never understood you, and I’m not sure she ever will. So yeah, she might say things in a nice tone, and it might seem like she cares about your future, but she doesn’t see your future the way we do. Soccer is life. Soccer is everything and so much more. You and I live and breathe the sport. So why are you going to give it up because of someone else?”
“I don’t know.” I drape my arm over my eyes. “I don’t know anything anymore. I feel lost.”
She quiets, and although that’s rare for Scarlett, this is one of the things I’ve valued most in our friendship. Even in silence, I know she’s present. I don’t even want to think about the end of next year when we possibly go our separate ways. More denial.
“When does he leave?”
And there it is. The question I hate. “Five days,” I say, nearly choking on my own words.
“What are you going to do during those five days?”
“Avoid breaking down when he’s around.”
“Or, you can tell him you love him,” she says with such confidence that it makes me feel even sicker.
“I don’t love him.”
“Uh, I beg to differ,” Scarlett says with a hint of cockiness.
“I don’t even know what love is, Scarlett. I thought I did. I thought I had a general idea, but then my parents blew up that concept this past year. It’s a clusterfuck and to be honest, even if I told Lincoln I want to keep in touch, or try to make this fuck buddies thing last, I honestly don’t think I’m mentally there. I would be more of a burden than anything.”
“You wouldn’t be a burden to him and you know that. He’d never consider you a burden.”
“And that right there is the problem. He would be blind to it and the last thing he needs is for me to drag him down.” I shake my head. “We said it was friends with benefits, and that’s how we’re going to keep it. We’ll stay in touch, but that’s as far as it goes. Nothing more. He’ll move on. I know he will.”
“But what does that mean for you?”
“It means I’ll have a lot of lonely nights to think about what the hell I want to do with my life.”
“You’ll have me.” Scarlett pats my leg. “I’m not going anywhere. I can play Mario Kart with you and share calzones.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, and how are you when it comes to oral?”
She winces. “Vaginas aren’t my thing. But, I’ll get you a play toy, how does that sound? I can even make it the size and girth of Lincoln.”
“Wow, then all my worries would be gone.”
“See?” Scarlett chuckles. “Told you I’d be here for you.”
Deep breaths.
You’ve got this.
Smiles and fun. That’s all this is going to be. Smiles and fun.
Lincoln comes bounding up the stairs and throws the door open to his packed-up room. He’s here for two more nights. His moms are picking up his car and belongings, and he’ll be headed to Massachusetts where he’s going to be thrown right into the minor league season. I can tell he’s excited. He’s been bouncing off the walls ever since he got the call. We spent a few more days working on his strength and conditioning. I even watched him practice with one of the catchers he knows that lives locally, and all I kept thinking about was how I was going to miss everything about him. Watching his strong form perform physically daunting workouts. How I’m going to miss his heartwarming smile, and the way he winks at me when he’s teasing.
I’m going to miss his voice, how it gets sultry and deep when he’s turned on and means naughty business.
I’m going to miss his cuddles, the way he stays wrapped against my back, solid, so I never feel alone.
I’m going to miss his heart, how he can read me so well, and how he doesn’t let me get away with shutting down on him.
I’m going to miss his friendship, the freedom to rely on him for pretty much anything at any time of the day.
I’m going to miss my rock.
“Calzones, babe,” he says, holding up a box of our signature calzones—that we split in half—two drinks, and a cannoli, a post-season treat we’ve partaken in lately.
“I should have known,” I say, not feeling very hungry.
He sets the box on the bed and asks, “Should we watch a movie while we eat or do you want to talk deep and dark secrets?”
God, no talking. Talking will make me lose it.
“I’m too scared to dive deep and dark into your unknown. Might get scary. Let’s stick to a movie.”
A flash of disappointment crosses his face before he says, “Sure thing. How about we watch an animated movie?”
Neutral—probably won’t make me cry—so it’s definitely a good idea.
“Sounds good to me.”
He flips on Disney Plus, because his moms—although they work on porn websites—love themselves a good Pixar movie, at least that’s what they told me.
“Oh, Let’s watch Coco. Mama said it was really good.”
“Okay, yeah. Haven’t seen that one yet.”
“Perfect.” He turns on the movie and then sits back against the headboard with me. He hands me my plate and then leans over and presses a kiss to my lips. “Glad you’re here, babe.”
“Me too,” I say as a lump forms in my throat. With a shaky hand, I cut into my calzone and try to act as normal as possible, but as the movie plays, my emotions get the best of me and I start crying.
When I see Lincoln wipe at his eyes, he says, “I forgot they said it was sad. Damn you, Disney. Why do they always have to pull at our heartstrings? Give us movies like The Emperor’s New Groove. Funny, clever, no heartbreak. It’s like they’re trying to break all adults around the world.”
Our plates were set aside long ago, and that’s when Lincoln pulled me up against his chest. When he hears me sniffle, he asks, “It’s the grandma that gets you, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, thankful for the horrendous “children’s” movie that was formed to rip you apart in the movie theater so you can embarrass yourself in front of strangers.
He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his arm around me and kisses the side of my cheek. More tears spill over and I try to contain my pain, not wanting to turn into full-on sobs because yes, the movie hits you in the feels, but not sobbing feels.
By the time the movie is over, I’ve pulled it together enough to not seem like I’m completely losing it. Just in time for Lincoln to peel off my clothes slowly, to lay me on his bed, and touch every part of my body with his tongue. It’s languid, intimate, and he’s slowly arousing me to a point where all I can think about is the pleasure pumping through me rather than the misery clogging my throat.