Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)(16)
He bobs his head as he considers my defense. “Those are all good reasons, but they don’t really apply to me. The busy thing I can buy—hell, I’ve used that myself. But I look like a lot of effort? And I’m not a good risk? What the hell does that mean?”
I sigh. “You’re like a really expensive designer purse. I want it but know a) I can’t afford it and b) even if I could I’d be so obsessive about checking the condition that I wouldn’t even enjoy it. Plus, everyone else would want to touch it, hold it. Someone might even want to steal it, and that’d be a certain kind of stress I wouldn’t want to deal with.”
“You’re overthinking this, Luce.”
“I don’t doubt that I am. I look at things from all angles. Every. Single. Angle. Maybe that’s weird, but that’s what I do.” What I have to do. My whole life is about risk assessment. Can I eat this new food or that new food? Can I have one drink or two tonight? Did I get enough rest? Enough walking in today? Will tonight be the night my glucose levels go haywire and my roommates have to call 911 because I’m in a coma? I don’t want to explain this to Matt, so I choose a different story. “I’m this way about all of my life decisions, even the small ones. I was breaking out last year because of my shampoo, so I needed to switch. I spent a week researching dozens of different brands. After culling the list to ten, I made up a matrix listing all the ingredients, their function, and the comedogenic rating before settling on one I could still buy at the drugstore but wasn’t going to break me out. The process took three weeks.”
Matt looks a little winded by my example, so I hit him with another one.
“Remember how hot it was last fall?” He nods. I’m sure he does. Ace cursed about it every day, saying he’d rather play for a cold climate team than a hot one. “My roommates and I went to Lake Wanachakee. There’s a little private watering hole on the north side. My roommates, Sutton and Charity, decide to strip down and go skinny-dipping despite the big white sign that says ‘No skinny-dipping, punishable by a fine of up to $500.’ They yelled for me to get in while I considered all the scenarios of getting arrested, of being dragged down the beach without any clothes on, of how many snakes were in the water. I’d read an article about a woman getting leeches up her girl parts.” Matt blanches at this as any sane person would. “And since it wasn’t chlorinated, how many people had peed in it? But I was so hot, and the water looked so good.”
“Did you do it in the end?” he asks, but he probably knows the answer.
I shake my head. “By the time I decided to take my clothes off, Sutton and Charity were cold and got out.”
He sighs. “Sounds like your risk assessments keep you from having fun as opposed to keeping you safe.”
“I don’t look at it that way. The odds are in my favor. Risky behavior is labeled risky because there’s a chance someone is going to get hurt. There’s nothing negative with wanting to avoiding being hurt or injuring someone you care about.” I find myself explaining my reasoning in elaborate detail. Is it because he looks interested? I wish I could shut up.
“You don’t regret not swimming with your friends? Because it kind of sounds like you do. That was a wistful note when you said the water looked so good.” He leans toward me again. “How about this. I’ll take all the risks and you just come along for the ride.”
“Matt, dating isn’t the risk. You’re the risk.” I lay down a few bills for my meal. “I’m not unhappy with how I live now. There’s nothing wrong with making measured decisions and weighing the risks versus the benefits.”
He watches me while I pull on my coat. “You’re right that there’s nothing wrong with how you’re living. I’m not judging that. I’m just saying maybe your life could be happier. And that sometimes taking a risk gives you big rewards.”
“And you’re that big reward?”
He smiles wide. “You won’t know unless you give me a try.”
6
Matty
“What crawled up your shorts and died?” Hammer bursts into my room the next morning. Hammer isn’t happy I’ve skipped going out with him.
I swivel in my desk chair, hoping my head blocks the computer monitor behind me. “Are you missing me when you go out to the bars? Is it difficult to pick up chicks when I’m not around? I told you that you got to stop using the line about being an advice columnist. That shit isn’t attractive.”
“Are you studying?” he asks incredulously, ignoring my insults. It’s three in the afternoon, and I can smell the booze on him even though he’s ten feet away. Granted, it’s Friday, and off-season Fridays are meant to be days spent drunk and lazy. “Is this because of the girl that turned you down?”
“Nope. Just trying to keep my head down,” I lie. Geez. I’m lying to randoms and to my best friends. The only person I’m being completely honest with is Lucy, and she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.
But I did take away something other than rejection from dinner last night. Lucy’s approach to risk-taking is crazy as all get out—who makes an extensive pros and cons list about shampoo?—but one thing she’d said had stuck in my mind.