Although, this assignment feels different considering it’s for a friend, my best friend. I’ve hardly responded to Lucky Charm all week. Isn’t it funny how I’ve spent three years dancing around our online friendship at work, but after one night together, the thought of keeping it a secret any longer feels misleading?
Anytime I see his name pop up on my screen, my stomach lurches and I convince myself that he’s found me out. That he knows I’ve been keeping this secret from him, and he wants nothing to do with me anymore. In my head, I know it’s irrational, but my heart can’t seem to get the memo.
“The response has been…” Fortune trails off to hide the fact that he’s choking up. “Overwhelming.”
I want to snake my arm around his waist and pull him against me, trying to relieve some of the heartache he’s experiencing. I can’t, though, because even if we aren’t at work right now, I have to keep it professional between us.
What happened last week might’ve meant hardly anything to him, but it was everything to me. If we do it again, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep my feelings out of this anymore.
“I just... I don’t know. I’ve spent so much of my life pursuing success on the field, Lea. It’s been my way of proving that I can be strong, independent, and never reliant on anyone, especially him.” Fortune shakes his head, and I wonder if he’s even realized he’s picked up his pace. “Yet, when I entered The League, everyone compared me to my father, assuming that he was the reason for my success. That I was just a byproduct of his training.”
“But instead of publicly refuting their claims, your career became your hiding place to shield against the pain.” My voice is soft and understanding. I glance over to find Fortune nodding, but I’m not surprised. I know all too well what it’s like to be in that position. “Because people like us, we pour ourselves into our work, determined to make something of our lives and prove that we are worthy all because someone once made us feel worthless.”
“Is that how your mom made you feel?”
I start to say, “Yes,” but quickly follow it up with a, “No.” I pause for a moment, trying to gather the words I want to say. “I guess… she was never really much of a mother to me to begin with. My dad and I have always been a two-person team, so when my mother walked out, it didn’t impact me as much as it did him.”
Fortune nods.
“It hurt, though. Not having a mom during those pivotal years when I really needed one. Being made fun of by other kids in school because my parents’ names were plastered on the front cover of tabloids in supermarkets,” I explain. “You know part of the reason I got into this career was so my dad didn’t have to hear about my mother anymore? You’d think ten years after their divorce people would’ve shut up about it, but they still found a way of tying something she did to a loss, or mentioning him in a story she was caught up in.” A scoff escapes my lips, and that long-forgotten sensation of betrayal settles low in my stomach. “I was sick and tired of people tying my dad’s success to a woman we haven’t spoken to since the day she left.”
Fortune wraps his arm delicately around my waist and pulls me close. I breathe in the scent of his woody cologne, the same one he wore last week, and a whizz of air expels from my lungs.
“Do you ever wonder if we’ve missed out on other important aspects of life because of our parents? Like love and or the ability to form meaningful connections.”
I know I shouldn’t find this funny, but I can’t help the crack of laughter breaking free from my throat. If only he knew how many nights I’ve lain awake contemplating that exact question until I overwork my brain to the point of exhaustion. Fortune indulges himself in a quiet chuckle with me, which was proof enough that he understood what I was thinking.
“Welcoming someone into our life is almost like opening the door to give them a chance to leave, just like our parents did,” Fortune adds after a moment.
“Scary, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…” His words drop off. “I think there’s a part of me that likes the idea of knowing that I’m in control of the narrative this time. That I can rewrite the story and shape the narrative of someone walking out of my life again. Approach the loss from a place of compassion and understanding rather than one of hurt. I don’t think my younger self could comprehend that.” He lets out a pain filled chuckle that makes my eyelids hot. “Hell… I don’t even know if my twenty-eight-year-old self can still comprehend it most days, but I know everything that’s gone down with Vince happened for a reason. He’s the one who has to carry his demons across the finish line.”
I swallow, and my heart pounds with a mix of anticipation and nerves. Holding back the secret of our friendship gets harder with each step we take in the darkness. Silence envelopes us once again, and the unspoken desire to spill the truth hangs heavily in the air.
Equally as sobering is the realization that even if this were to work out in my favor—if Fortune didn't care that I knew he was on the other side of our secret friendship—the moment would be crushed by my father's boundaries. And any feelings that might exist between the two of us would have to be swept away until the season ends.
"I think the two of us having a little heart-to-heart constitutes a friendship. What do you say?" I can hear the smile on his lips.
I nod in agreement, a bittersweet smile playing on my lips. Secretly holding onto the hope that someday, I'll get the courage to tell him we've been friends for a lot longer than he realizes.
NINE
FORTUNE
The car rideback to Lea’s house was quiet, which made pulling up to pulsating beats of music and laughter from partygoers even more unappealing than before.
We walk side by side down the driveway, and I make a right, thinking we’re heading for the front door. Which is why I’m surprised when Lea wraps a hand around my wrist and tugs me in the opposite direction. She walks in front, pulling me behind her as she weaves through cars and around to the side of her house.
“Where are we—”
“Shhh,” she hisses, looking back at me with a pointer finger pressed against her lips. “We have to be quiet or someone will see us.”
Half an hour ago, the two of us were at the beach having a sincere conversation about our parents and our childhood, and now it appears we’re going to sneak into her house to avoid the rest of the party. I’m not mad about it. I’d have stayed at the beach until sunrise talking about everything and nothing if she wanted, but I’ll take whatever amount of time she’s willing to give me.
My line of sight catches off white curtains breezing through a half-open window. And unless she plans on taking me by surprise again, it seems we’re headed straight there.
She’s got to be kidding. Wide receivers are normally on the lankier side compared to most other players on the field, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I’m too damn tall and way too big to fit myself through that window.
