Page 14 of The Comeback

I sleep in on Saturday and then spend the morning catching up on other projects at work that I didn’t do while I was hurriedly planning a dinner party for Gabriella. I occupy a fair amount of time building a planner for a new client, making that my reward after I’ve put together a budget proposal for them. Their wedding is still a year out, so there’s no rush on anything I’m doing now. I won’t start in-person meetings and arrangements until I get back to Atlanta after Gabriella’s wedding the first week of November.

I’m antsy from the night before, even after putting together a gorgeous planner, so I change into leggings and a tank top to run up the beach. Maybe not the best idea since I tense every time a figure comes into view until I can tell from their shape that it’s not Jett. How far up the beach does he live? Closer to Jenna is all I know.

Then I mentally slap myself. Jett’s in Houston, prepping for tomorrow’s game. One thing I’ve paid close attention to is Colby’s schedule. The team checks into a hotel the day before a game. They’ll have meetings in the morning and then spend the rest of the day focusing on their own or with other teammates. So, for the last part of the run, I’m able to push past the way Jett has seemed to dog my steps since I got here.

By the time I’m back from my run, I have to face Gabriella’s questions about me ditching the party right after talking to Jett.

Gabriella: Okay, spill it. What happened last night? You didn’t look “fine” when you left.

I sit on a chair on my deck to answer. I’m going to enjoy this beach view as much as I can while I’m here.

Ava: We were just talking things out. It’s just not going to be easy for us to be friends. We have a history and we’ve also changed. It’s not a big deal. Promise.

Gabriella: But what happened? What did he say?

I’m not going to tattle to Gabriella that Jett thinks her using the wedding to get her name out there is a bad idea. It won’t do any good. He just doesn’t understand. If he or Colby wanted to run for office, they’d just do it. Jett doesn’t have to think about leveraging an important event that will be all over social media because of his partner. He’s got enough influence on his own. But it’s not my job to convince him this is a good idea. It’s not his wedding. If Colby or Gabriella are bothered by his attitude, they can take care of it. So if I’m not going to mention any of that, I don’t know how to get around the details Gabriella wants to know.

Ava: Really, it’s nothing. He was asking about my event planning and I got a little touchy. You know how hard it is for me when people bring up the fundraising events I used to do. I’m really fine.

There. It’s mostly the truth. Hopefully Gabriella will let it drop.

Ava: And don’t start with me on why I should be doing those types of events. You’re not going to change my mind.

I congratulate myself on the pretty natural shift in the conversation Gabriella will have to go with. She sends me a GIF of an exaggerated sigh, and I smile, grateful for this small reprieve.

Gabriella: You’re coming to the game with me tomorrow, right?

I scowl. I watch most of the Pumas games on TV. I grew up as a fan, so I can tell myself it has nothing to do with Jett being their star quarterback. I’ve even been to a few Pumas games here in Houston, but going with Gabriella will be different. Colby will have gotten her good seats, not the sky-high ones my dad and I usually buy. I was watching Jett play, but he never knew I was there. I was just one in the crowd. This will be different, like watching Jett back when we were dating, and my insides wiggle just thinking about it.

But if I try to blow her off, Gabriella’s going to think it has to do with Jett, and she’ll question me more about what happened at the dinner party.

Ava: Of course I’ll come!

I add blue and black hearts to the end, the Pumas colors. Hopefully I can fake the same excitement when I see her.

On Sunday I drive to Gabriella’s apartment in Houston, and we head to the stadium together.

“You look perfect,” she says when we’re taking our seats. She waves at the distressed shorts, my sleeveless navy-blue tee with a faded red Pumas logo, and my strappy sandals.

“I have a little experience with game-day outfits.”

Gabriella’s seats are as close as I thought they would be, just five rows up on the sideline. Colby will be able to see us—so will Jett, if he cares to look. I swallow at the thought.

The excitement of the game eases my nerves though. I lose myself a little in the happiness and enthusiasm of the people around me as everyone settles in. The day is hot, which is why I chose the top I did, and the heat only seems to add to the boisterousness of the other fans in our section.

Besides, I can’t help the good memories that sneak into my brain—the anticipation that had me bouncing on my toes, unable to sit for most of the game, when I watched Jett in high school and college; how satisfying it was that the cool guy down on the field was mine. So often after games, he would ditch his teammates and meet me at his apartment to hang out. I loved the energy that spilled off him when they won, which was more often than not. He was explosive the night he won his first starting game at UNR. I had reveled in his high like it was my own. He was my everything. His successes mine. His disappointments as cutting as if they were my own. He was the same with me, celebrating A’s on tests like I’d been picked in the draft and even crying with me when my mom called to tell me our family dog had died.

As close as Gabriella and I are to the field, my heart rate climbs when the players come out. I purposefully bend down to rummage in my bag when Colby, with Jett beside him, looks up toward us. When it’s safe to stand up, I watch Jett from a distance. Last time I came with my dad, our seats were so high up I couldn’t really tell who Jett was unless I could see his number. Gabriella has her head bowed in silent prayer—a ritual she and Colby have together before every game. We’re too far up for her to go down to the railings like I know she does sometimes, so he stands at the base of the stands just below us, his posture mimicking Gabriella’s.

The moment gives me a chance to stare at Jett without Gabriella catching me. He hasn’t looked our way since he noted what Colby was doing. Jett’s as attractive as he’s always been in his pads and football pants. A rush of feelings pours through me, stronger than when we first got here, when it was just the atmosphere, the way it always did then when I saw him in his uniform. Pride and love—although, I don’t think it’s love now. More like nerves. But still the pride.

Jett went to the University of Nevada under the radar. In his first year, he got a few mentions from sports commentators for great plays the few times he got in, but he worked hard. That’s the thing about him; he makes dreams happen. I think that’s one of the reasons our breakup was so hard for him. He couldn’t force our success from sheer will, the way he seems to be able to do with his career.

By the time he was a senior, he was a first-round draft pick, and Houston hasn’t looked back since picking him up. They’ve been in the playoffs every year he’s started as quarterback, and everyone says this year is The Year for them.

He steps into line with his teammates for the national anthem. I didn’t even notice that Colby had moved to his side. I give a side glance to Gabriella, wondering if she’s watching me with some kind of knowing smirk on her face, but she’s checking her phone. She pockets it and smiles at me before looking to the field and putting her hand over her heart.

Then, unexpectedly, Jett turns to where I stand. My breath catches as he meets my eyes, and I almost expect for him to wink at me the way he always used to. He just stares then grimaces before turning away.