#Score (17 page)

R
amona

M
y phone buzzes
in my pocket and I pull it out, already smiling as I see Benji's name next to a couple of goofy-looking hearts pop up on the screen. When did I become such a sap?

Need a ride home? I know a guy.

I laugh and quickly text him back.

Tell me more about this guy.

Counting the money in the register, I zip it all up and walk to the back, shutting down all the lights of the Laundromat before heading back to the back room and locking the money bag in the small safe in our makeshift break room. My phone buzzes again and I hear my mother scoff softly to herself at the table where she's going over the books, hunched over with her glasses sliding down her nose.

I'm not gay or anything, but I'd do him.

This time I get the tail end of a nasty look from my mother. "What?" I asked, unable to hold back the grin on my face. Sometimes after a long day of pulling shifts at both the café and the Laundromat, Benji's goofy texts are the only thing that gets me by.

She lets out a sigh, taking her glasses off as she stares me down. "You know what. Is that all you ever do? Talk to that boy on the phone?"

I tilt my head back, not wanting to go there with her tonight. "Hey, I'm done closing up. What's wrong with me talking to my boyfriend? Anyway, do you need anything else before I get out of here?"

The look on her face softens and she pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly exhausted. "No, Ramy. But thank you. I guess I'm just tired." Thankfully, I know my dad will be here in just a few minutes to help finish up whatever she's doing before they head home.

I give my mom a kiss on the forehead, squeezing her tight before heading out, texting him back, only to see him standing outside of his ridiculously loud black car, giving me a little wave outside the front of the Laundromat.

He opens the door for me and I slide in the car, taking my place beside him along the long bench seat. "You have very good timing."

He smiles as he shifts the gear, staring straight ahead at the road. "Oh yeah? There was a time you thought I had pretty shitty timing."

I nod. "Things change."

And they have, because in the past three months since that crazy ordeal with Dimitri in my apartment, a lot of things have changed, at least for me. They're all small things, things that only I really pick up on, but I've been noticing more of them recently.

Take my art for example. I don't know how, but I managed to not only finish the big painting, the one I'd been working on for so damn long it was unreal, but a few other smaller projects as well. No one’s seen the big canvas yet, though, because I plan on sending it to my friend Eliza so she can display it in her art gallery, the Geo Boutique in San Francisco. She's only been bugging me for the past six months or whatever. Of course Benji keeps bugging me, telling me I'm holding out on him for not letting him see it, but I'm not ready yet. He's the one that I've finished it for, if I'm honest with myself, and I want him to be the first to see it when we drive up for the show next month. I have a hunch he'll really like it.

My art hasn't been the only thing influenced by the way I feel for him. I've been wearing less of my usual drab, dark clothes and trying different things like a little bit of color here, stripes there. Like I said, not a huge change, but one that people like Jasmine and Brie have picked up on. Brie nearly shit her pants when she saw me walking out of my room in a pair of pinstriped shorts and a purple top. I never thought I was going to hear the end of it.

Of course then again, half the time I'm with Benji I'm not even wearing clothes, but that's neither here nor there. It's kind of crazy how much I've been painting lately, given the fact that I’d much rather spend all of my free time that I have with him. How could I not, he's insufferably charming to a fault. And when he looks at me, sometimes I forget to breathe. It's silly and I know it's super cliché, but he just makes it better. He just makes everything about me better.

That's probably why it drives me absolutely crazy when our schedules don't match up, which is way too often for me. When he is playing home games, I'm working my double shifts. When he is away, I finally have a few days off to spend time with him. I wish I could just quit one of my jobs so I could spend that time with him while he is here, but it's just not possible yet. I'm still working as hard as I ever was, holding both jobs down, but I'm hoping that with painting more, I can sell more and that means more money in my pocket. Gosh, I can't even imagine what life could be like if I actually make it to the point where I can sell my paintings for enough money to get me by completely, covering rent and all that kinds of stuff. Benji always tells me I can do it, that he has complete faith in me, and when he takes my hand as we go up the steps to my apartment, I know he's telling me the truth.

"
O
h thank God
, I'm starving," I say as I get a whiff of whatever delicious food Brie has ordered in for the night.

She holds out a bite of her food and I instantly take it, savoring the salty pork flavor. "Yes, yes, this is what I've been dreaming of all day," I say as I grab one of the plastic forks lying on the table and dig into the Thai food. "Is it okay if Benji has some, too?" I ask around a mouthful of food. It'll be a shame if she says no because there's no way I'm not stuffing my face full of this deliciousness.

Brie pretends to carefully assess my boyfriend, narrowing her gaze at him. "Hmm, maybe. If he agrees to introduce me to that cute guy on his team."

Benji and I share a look, thinking about how boy crazy Brie has been lately since she broke it off with whatever her boyfriend’s name was. He was the third guy in just as many months.

"Deal. But you gotta tell me which one is the cute one, because you know I have no idea," Benji agrees, taking a seat at the table beside us.

* * *

W
e’re lying
in bed together, somehow miraculously still clothed, and my head is on Benji's chest, moving with each rise and fall of it. It's quiet, one of those rare moments where we just sit there and enjoy each other's company without saying a word. I never thought I'd experience something like this with someone, but I get why people say they can enjoy silence with the right kind of person.

Benji rubs my shoulder, staring straight up at the cute little glow-in-the-dark stars and moons he hung from my ceiling as a little birthday present for me last month. "I had that dream again last night."

Right away I know he's talking about. "The one with your parents?"

He nods. "It was really weird though, different from the other times I've had it." He sounds thoughtful for a moment and I can almost hear the gears in his head turning, so I shift in my spot next to him and wait for him to continue.

"They made it out alive. And it was like my whole life, everything was different. Me and Cal were both playing baseball, I wasn't that great at it obviously, I was like a totally different person, you know what I mean? But I was still kind of happy. I don't know, I guess I've just been thinking about how weird life can be. Like these big things happen to you in your life and you just got to roll with the punches, take the hits. It's not exactly easy when it means that your parents die, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right? But I was thinking, what if they hadn't died that night? What if EZ's mom is still alive and maybe she eventually got married and he had a dad finally? Just all these things, all these things were running through my head."

I brush his hair back from his face, looking at him the best I can do in the dim lighting of the room. "I would imagine your life would be a lot different, yeah."

He nods along again, still lost in his own thoughts. "It's just hard to believe that it's already been nineteen years since they died. Hell, it's hard to believe I've already been in L.A. for over nine months, so pretty much a year here, too."

I bite my lip because he is right. It is hard to believe that he's already been here for almost a year. "Speaking of which, has your coach been asking you more about what your plans are for your contract renewal? Didn’t you say something about that a few days ago?"

Benji suddenly goes rigid and he turns to move away from me, rolling over on his side.

I can't help but notice that every time I bring up his team or his coach even, he always gets weirded out. I don't know what it could be that's causing him to act that way, I just hope that everything's working out okay for him, whatever he decides to do.

B
enji

I
unwrap my ankle
, letting out a slow breath as the air hits my skin. I've been having to wrap my feet every practice to help keep them from getting too roughed up. With us winning the biggest game yet and going to the Final Match in a few days, Coach has us running drills like nobody's fucking business. I barely had a chance to sit down, much less catch some Zs.

"What are you doing, man?" Joshua's voice brings me back to the present conversation on the phone.

"Sorry, I'm just unwrapping my ankles."

Joshua laughs. "You too? Shit, this is intense. My man Gainsley had this nasty-ass blister that covered half his damn foot, I swear. They got us busting ass out here."

I let out a low whistle, because that sure as hell sounds more painful than a sore ankle. "No shit. Coach Ridley had us do one hundred push-ups, jumping into those stupid burpee things that I fucking hate, then had us run a mile and if we didn't beat the slowest player’s time from yesterday, we would have to do a hundred more push-ups. It was fucking insane."

R
amona comes in from outside
, tossing her sketchpad onto the small coffee table where my feet are propped up. "I just saw this cute older couple walking by, and they wanted to know if I could sketch them. It was really sweet. I ended up giving the picture to them and they were so happy," she says with a sweet smile on her face.

Her fingers are all stained with charcoal, and she's gotten smudge of it on her cheek across her freckles. I watch as she walks into the bedroom part of my apartment, her hips swaying back and forth.

"
L
et
's just take a moment to think about how fucking crazy this is that you and I are both going to be playing in the final cut match our first year playing pro. What are the fucking odds, man?" Joshua asks, voicing the very same thing I had been thinking about the minute I found out we were playing against the Timbers this next game.

"I know, right? But you know what though?"

"What's that?"

"I'm not to be going easy on you this next time, dude. Hard core all the way." I chuckle as he cusses under his breath.

"Man, please. That’s what you said last time too, and we still kicked y’alls asses. You better bring it, because you're going to need it. We've been crushing it out there on the field the past few games, getting even more points racked up than y'all. We'll see how it goes, Lundgren."

We've been smack talking the whole fucking week, still in disbelief that we are where we are right now. We have friends from back at Clemson making bets on who's going to take home the Cup. It's been a wild ride.

Ramona pops her head back in, trying to catch my attention. "I'm going to go lay down for nap," she whispers, trying not to interrupt me and Joshua. I nod at her and smile, listening to Joshua's rundown of their last game against Miami. I know she's fucking exhausted after working a double shift at Doubleday Café, so it's a good thing she's taking a time out to give her body some rest. Especially when I plan on riding her body hard later on after dinner . . .

"You there? You keep fading out," Joshua says. I lean back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling. "Sorry man, I was just thinking."

He laughs at me, and I can almost see him shaking his head. "That's dangerous territory for you, son. Besides, aren’t you the one who called me? Like it's still 2006 or something, like who calls people anymore, man?"

If I had a damn dollar for every time somebody ribs on me about that shit . . .

"What's on your mind, anyway?" Now he's got the serious tone, and I look around the corner to make sure Ramona's all the way in the back of the bedroom before I say anything more.

"I don't know, man. Just contract shit on my mind, I guess."

He knows exactly what I'm talking about, and I hear him suck in a breath. "Have you heard back from West Turkey? They sent that Dunham guy out quick as fuck for them to be taking so long."

I shrug as if he can see me in my living room. "Nah, I haven't heard anything yet. It's whatever at this point. I mean if they really cared, really wanted me over there, I think they probably would've said something by now. It's no big deal."

"The fuck it isn't. What do you mean it's no big deal? You think I'm an idiot? I know it's probably all you've been thinking about lately."

Joshua was right, I have been thinking about it constantly since Patrick Dunham stopped by and watched a couple of my home games in L.A. He even sat down and spoke with me directly, telling me he liked what he saw. He had pretty high hopes for me, especially given the way the regulations just so happened to change right after I joined the SLA and all. It didn't mean that I haven't been torn up inside over what to do about any of it.

He's quiet for a minute, the sound of a few guys on his team talking with him the only thing I hear before he pipes back up. "Hey man, I get it. But don't you think you should at least tell her about West Turkey? I mean at least give the girl a chance to have something to say over it."

Fuck, if only he didn't know me so damn well . . . "I can't tell her yet, Joshua. She'd be . . . she'd be devastated. And I still don't know what I want to do yet, so there's no point in bringing it up until I've made a decision, am I right?"

He may think he gets it, but he doesn't, not really. How could he when there's only one Ramona? I barely fucking understand how I feel about the whole thing, much less what the right decision is to make.

I just know he's making that face where he knows I'm wrong. "Whatever you say, Benji. But she sounds like a nice girl, and I know you hate liars. I'm just saying. Don't you think she’ll be pretty pissed when she finds out you've been holding out and not telling her this whole time?"

I'm ready for this conversation to be over. "Look, I'm not telling her yet, okay? End of story. I gotta go and ice my feet, so let me let you go real quick," I say to him, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"All right. Later man."

We hang up and I toss my phone over to the other side of the couch, aggravated as shit. I know he's right, but having to face her and tell her that I'm considering moving to London is the very last thing I want to do right now.

I let my eyes close, wondering how the hell I got myself in this position. Since when is seeing all your dreams come true supposed to be this fucking hard?