Page 34 of Merry Mischief List
“How will I ever survive?”
Paula sets our drinks in front of us and takes our order.
“So how’d you end up at CBU?” Andi asks once she leaves.
“After my accident, the doctors wouldn’t clear me to play professionally again. I can still exercise and have total mobility, but they weren’t really willing to risk me getting sacked by three-hundred-pound linemen on a daily basis. Since I was a CBU alumnus, I had helped the team out whenever I had time, even when playing for Tampa. Once I was healed and cleared to work, I started as an assistant coach there. Then a few years ago, the old head coach left, and they gave me a shot.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it isn’t what I expected for my life. But it gives me purpose, and to be honest, I’ve never felt better than I do when I’m on the field with those guys, watching them give their all. And the pride I feel when we win and knowing I was a part of that. I found myself again, but it wasn’t in the way I thought I would.”
“I guess sometimes we find ourselves in unexpected ways,” Andi says, toying with her silver necklace, pulling my attention back to that spot I can’t stop craving.
“Do you feel like this mischief list is helping you find yourself again?”
“I don’t really think I’ve lost myself, per se. It’s just reminding me to focus on the small joys instead of the big fails.”
“And Olivia was your big fail?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She shakes her head. “I’m perfectly content with the person I am. I like my life and my friends. But every time I date someone it leaves me feeling like I’m not enough. Like I need to change things about myself to fit better in their space.”
“You shouldn’t shrink yourself down to fit someone else’s expectations. And honestly, you really don’t seem like the type of woman to do that in the first place.”
“Quite insightful for someone who’s only really known me a few days.”
I shrug. “I’ve gotten used to reading people over the years. It’s kind of required for coaching hormonal, testosterone-fueled football players. Gotta get a read on ‘em quick to know the best training method.”
“So you’re training me to be a better girlfriend?” she teases.
“No, I’m just reiterating what you should already know.”
“And what’s that?”
My mind swirls, trying to figure out how to explain she should never settle for less. “Okay, so it’s like this,” I say. “When you go to the store looking for one of those peppermint whatever cupcakes—”
“Peppermint mocha,” she corrects.
“Okay, sure. So imagine you go to the store looking for a peppermintmochacupcake, and they only have vanilla.”
“A tragedy!” she gasps.
“Exactly.” I smirk. “Would you settle for the vanilla?”
“No way,” she replies, scrunching her nose. “That wouldnothit the seasonal spot.”
“Right, so you’d probably go to another store and keep looking until you found one or a suitable alternative, right?”
“I guess so,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Stop settling for basic relationships that don’t fulfill your ‘seasonal cravings,’” I say, feeling silly, but the way her face softens lets me know I’m on the right track. “Hold out for that peppermint mocha, or you’ll never be fully satisfied.”
“Wow,” she says with a soft smile. “That’s actually some very good, targeted advice. Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Damn, now I want something sweet,” Andi says. “They got dessert in this place?”
“Only fifteen different flavors of pie,” I say, sliding her the dessert menu just as Paula arrives with our food.
