Page 62 of Full Court Love

Lucy has no shortage of admirers. And adoring fans. And guys looking to make a move now that she’s back on the market.

Why did she need multiple bouquets of flowers from various groups of football players? Like, not just one from the whole team. She received one from the offensive line, one from special teams, and even one from the quarterback and receivers.

I can’t be certain, but it seems rather obvious that word is out: it’s open season on Lucy Townes. It’s a sentiment that sounds crass, but it’s certainly how all these guys are viewing the situation. After all, Lucy was finally willing to date someone, which is something she’d never done before. Now that we broke up, it’s every guy’s dream scenario–they finally have the green light to shoot their shot with her.

It’s clear that information is now circulating. And apparently, no one is willing to waste this opportunity.

I’m still taking care of her until her roommates return, but I’m starting to second-guess how much abuse I want to endure. From the moment we roll up to the arena to the second we leave, the jackals surround her.

She makes it easy for them, too, by crutching away from me and asking various people to carry her bags. People who aren’t me. Typically male-type people. Some of the football players have even taken to waiting for her practices to get done so they can carry her out to my car–I bet it’s absolutely brutal for her to sit on the sidelines watching practice without being able to participate. But being the selfless teammate she is, Lucy has been there every day with a positive attitude. Her attitude surrounding the help she’s receiving from every male on this campus is rather sunny as well.

I have to sit there and watch her laugh and smile as she’s carried by some guy looking far too smug. I have to unclench my fists. This is my own doing. But man, jealousy is poisonous. I’m basically decaying from the inside out because I feel it 24/7.

Every once in a while, I’ll catch her watching me out of the corner of her eye, but when I turn to look, she’s back to hamming it up with the other stars on campus. It’s more painful than I’d care to admit. She’s trying to prove to me that she’s unbothered–although we both know neither of us is even close to that.

It also makes me feel exceptionally replaceable. Whether she intends to or not, her playing around with other guys right in front of me invalidates that our connection went beyond sports.

She’s filling my shoes with a different random athlete every day.

Regrettably and without my permission, my imagination is taking the little snippets I’m witnessing and running wild. I don’t think she’s talking to anyone else yet, although I’ve seen messages pop up on her phone when I’m silently driving her to rehab or bringing her ice for her ankle.

Or doing any of the things that make me an absolute simp.

When we were together, I didn’t mind being called that by my teammates. It was true, and I owned the title with pride.But now we aren’t together, and it just seems a little desperate. Which is absolutely what I am. Desperate to maintain any semblance of connection with this girl before she gets drafted and never thinks about me again.

This is my final thought as I drop her off for the last time at the Boat. I’m really going to miss this place. Hanging out with these girls made me feel like I had a real group of friends. But alas, AJ just got back into town and is more than willing to take care of Lucy moving forward.

Which should be a great thing–less work for me and all.

Instead, I feel like I actually have to say goodbye to Lucy. She opens her door, finally rid of the crutches, pulls her bag out, and steps onto the curb. Her hesitation is apparent in the five seconds she just stands there, staring at her house.

Then she turns and meets my eyes for the first time in days.

“Thank you, Jordan. This was one of the most selfless ways I’ve ever been cared for in my life. Actually, probably the most selfless.” Her eyes glisten, and she blinks away the tears. “I . . . umm… I’m really going to miss you.”

I open my mouth to respond, but she’s already slammed the door and is limping across the lawn. With every fiber of my being, I want to yell after her. I want to hold her and keep her safe.

I desperately want to kiss her.

But instead, I pull away slowly.

This is selfless,I tell myself for the millionth time. But this time another voice pipes up and introduces a new sentiment.

This is cowardly.

I shove that one down. I’m just doing what has to be done. She deserves better. She deserves the world, and all I have to offer is a baggage-ridden me.

The rest of the drive home is spent debating with that second voice in my head. Unfortunately, that voice soundslike Lucy, which makes me want to listen to it. By the time I reach my room, the debate is reaching fever pitch.

It’s not cowardly to put her future above my own happiness.

It is when you could actually do something about it.

What could I even do?

Maybe sack up and face your dad.

I don’t even know if that would change anything.