Page 79 of On His Schedule
The guys disperse, doing whatever they do before a party starts. Eventually, it’s down to Stanley and me. He puts on music, and the two of us work around each other in the kitchen.I do dishes. He wipes down the counters. The music is loud, and the house is starting to feel like a party, even though it’s just the two of us.
Right as the song comes to an end, Stanley says, “You know I’m just looking out for you, yeah?”
I keep washing the bowl. “Yeah.”
“Remember last spring.”
I look at him.
He says, “I don’t want that to happen again.”
“Or this could be about you not wanting to get serious withyou know who.”
The new song plays loudly, and we go back to cleaning.
People start showing up at eight, and the house fills fast. The home opener is two weeks out, so the team is buzzing. The freshmen on the team have brought everyone they know on campus, and within forty-five minutes, there are way too many bodies in this house.
I hand out beers. I’m hugging guys I haven’t seen since spring — Carlson’s older brother who graduated last year, two guys from the football team who somehow always end up at our parties, a girl who knew Gianna in high school and hugs me like we’re family. I deflect two girls who try to corner me by the keg, polite and fast both times. Walsh’s girlfriend is here, and she catches my eye across the room and waves.
Every time the front door opens, I look.
At nine, the door opens, and Gianna walks in with Mara. My eyes try to find her, but Lucy is not with them.
My shoulders go up half an inch before my head registers it. Gianna sees me across the room and lifts a hand. Mara grins and immediately starts pulling Gianna toward the kitchen. Neither of them comes to talk to me. I stay where I am, talking to Walsh, not hearing a word he’s saying. I’m running the math. She’s not here. Maybe she’s running late. Maybe she’s coming separately.Maybe — fuck. Maybe I pushed too hard this morning. The leg. TheBens. TheI’ll always ask.Maybe I miscalculated. I run it three times and end up in the same place all three times, which is that I will not know until she walks through the door or doesn’t.
Walsh raises an eyebrow at me to make sure I’m paying attention to him and continues telling his story. I have no idea what the story is about. I’m drinking my beer and thinking about Lucy.
Then the door opens again, and I look up, holding my Camdenth. It’s not Lucy.
It’s Paxton Bowie.
I haven’t seen Paxton in over a year. He played freshman year on my line, was my winger, and then transferred to UCLA after sophomore year for reasons that were complicated — bad fit with the staff, a girl in California, his mom having a thing. He plays for UCLA now, which makes him a rival, which makes his being in this house tonight mildly insane. He’s taller than I remember, and his hair is shorter.
“Bowie,” I call out, chuckling.
He turns and sees me.
He lifts his arms. “Fucking Reeve.”
I cross the room, and we hug, the half-bro half-real hug guys do. He claps me on the back hard enough to push the air out of my lungs.
“What the hell, man, what are you doing here?”
“Wedding tomorrow. A friend’s sister. I flew into Metro and decided to drive up for the night, crash with Gallo. Saw on Stan’s IG you were throwing tonight.”
“Stan posts our parties on IG?”
“Stan posts everything on IG. I miss you, fuckers.”
He grins. We talk for ten minutes about the UCLA’s coach, our coach, the strength program over there, his linemates, Paxton’s mom who had the surgery last year and is doing better. We endup talking about the Notre Dame game from sophomore year. Double overtime. He scored the winner. I had the secondary assist and almost ran into the boards on the celly because Stanley jumped on me too high. Paxton is laughing telling it. Blue and Percy come over, and Percy calls himfrérotand Paxton calls him back the same. Gianna and Mara float in from the kitchen. Mara doesn’t know him. Gianna gives him a quick hug and asks how his mom is. He says she’s good. The circle widens to seven or eight people. Music. Beer. The party is good.
I should be enjoying this, but I keep scanning the room over everyone’s shoulder.
A few beers in, around nine forty, the conversation has moved to something stupid Stanley is half-fabricating. Mara is correcting him. Paxton is laughing. I look toward the front door when it opens.
I think I’m seeing things. I blink a few times. She’s in jeans and a fitted black top with the sleeves pushed up, her hair down, and eyeliner on. I know that’s Mara doing because it’s the same thing Gianna has, so I wonder why it’s taken Lucy this long to get here. Mara runs up to her excitedly and hands her a Solo cup. Please let it be Lucy’s Juice. Please let her have read the damn sign.
Lucy doesn’t see me. She turns and says something to Mara, and Mara laughs. Lucy walks into the dining room where someone has cleared out the table, and a few people are dancing. Gianna walks up to her and asks her something. Lucy nods and then falls into telling her something animatedly. I watch, unable to peel my eyes away.
