Page 19 of Coach Sully
“Am I good to head out?” Sully asks.
“It’s your party, you can do whatever you want,” she says. His heated gaze falls on me briefly. He can’t be this flirty when we’re working together, or I’ll end up flustered. I ignore his smile. “KTBW wants to do a radio interview. I sent you an email, give me a call tomorrow and I’ll go over the talking points.”
“Thanks, Kailey.”
“You bet.” Her bright eyes transfer to me. “Great seeing you again, Kendra, let’s get drinks sometime soon.”
“Absolutely!” I say, even though we both know we’re too busy for that kind of thing. It’s still fun to pretend like I have a life outside of work.
We wave goodbye, and I finish my drink in one gulp. Fuck it.
“Did you drive?”
“No, I carpooled with the crew.”
Sully taps the table twice. “Want a ride?”
“In a car?”
He chuckles. “I’m heading out, I can give you a lift.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough,” he says under his breath.
Same.
“Nah. I’ll Uber.” I need more alcohol.
“Come on, Kendra. I’ll drive you home.”
The hum of my car’s engine hangs between us as it idles in the driveway, and I survey the exterior of her house—most of it is cloaked in shadows, but it’s a small craftsman-style bungalow with a large stained-glass window on the gable. I want to know what the inside looks like. We sit in silence, each of us waiting for the other to make the first move… My time is running out.
I’m not leaving with regrets.
“You know… I’m not America’s most-eligible bachelor yet.”
We regard each other, and she swallows. I could get lost in her eyes forever. I can’t tell if minutes or hours have passed. She bites the corner of her lip. “Do you…” After a long pause, she continues. “Do you want to come in for a drink?”
I’ve never been so thirsty. “Yes.” We need closure. Maybe it’s selfish, but I need one more night with her. I wasn’t ready for thelast time to be the last time. Turning off the engine, I step out and walk around the car to open her door.
She steps out, and my hand is on her lower back when she unlocks her front door and I follow her inside. There’s not a lot of twenty-three-year-olds who own their own home. The dark space, filled with monotone shadows, is transformed into a vibrant, colorful dwelling when she flicks the light switch. Yeah, this is hers.
Emerald-green living room walls match the art deco sofa in the same hue. Throw pillows, flowers, and artwork make the room come alive with pops of color. I like it. It’s a lot, but it’s not overwhelming. It’s invigorating and creative. Built-in floor-to-ceiling shelves along the east wall hold hundreds of vinyl records.
“Wow.”
“My mom was really into music. Most of my memories are of us laying on the floor and listening to records together. I kept them when she passed… and then added a lot more.” She chuckles.
Kendra steps out of sight after walking through the dining room into what must be the kitchen. I stand in the living room, taking in the space. It’s neat and organized, but she’s definitely a maximalist when it comes to color. The floral arrangement off to the side is even coordinated to the room. Impressive.
“Those are nice,” I say, pointing to the bouquet.
“I love having fresh flowers in the house. They make me happy.”
Personal touches are everywhere, and my brain attempts to catalog everything, to further understand who she is. It’s bright, colorful, and just so damn…happy.
Ice clinks against glasses as I peruse her shelves while she fixes us drinks. She returns with two tumblers of amber liquid, then I sip the smokey whiskey she hands me.