Daylight, page 7
I don’t watch movies on my own, but the few times a year I do, they are with Elle. She’s seen every movie known to man and never misses a new release if she can help it. I find it endearing that she feels so passionately about something outside of work.
Growing up, the only hobbies that my dad had revolved around training me into becoming the perfect football player. It wasn’t until I hit my teens that I realized football was my only personality trait.
From such a young age, I was conditioned to be a football machine. Most kids spend long car rides playing on an iPad or reading books, not watching hours of game tape, studying moves and plays.
My first year of college was brutal, realization after realization hitting me that I had a lot of catching up to do. A whole new world opened up to me, and I didn’t know what to do with that. It was so strange, not having my father or my uncle’s watchful eye over me constantly. I was able to grow into my own person, discover things I liked and didn’t like.
Elle was someone who helped me a lot with that battle. We made it into a game, using our free time to find things I liked and didn’t like. Her display of kindness was new to me. I wasn’t used to people going out of their way to be nice to me.
The first time we spent time together outside of our sports marketing class was on a Wednesday night. We had a quiz coming up and decided that we should study together.
We were going to go to her dorm since I could never guarantee what we were going to walk into at my dorm. My roommates were cut from a different cloth than I had, not having been raised under a microscope. It was weird at first, but ultimately helped me break out of my shell.
When I went over to Elle’s dorm, it was a bit of a culture shock. Casually hanging out with friends at their place was something I was never allowed to do growing up. I think she could sense my awkwardness, I’m sure it was just radiating off of me.
I tried to skirt around it but alluded to the truth. I’m not unique in my situation, a lot of legacy kids are in the same situation as I am. It didn’t take much for her to connect the dots.
We didn’t study for long, getting bored with the material quickly. She suggested we put a movie on, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a movie. She was beside herself and told me we had to start with one of her favorites of all time. I was hesitant to waste two and a half hours watching a movie, that was a lot of time that could be spent doing something else.
She was insistent, telling me that it was the middle of a long week and we deserved to turn off our brains for a few hours and watch a stupid, comedic movie.
And that’s when I learned I don’t like to watch movies.
As it turns out, I’m incapable of turning my brain off for that long. The entire time, I just sat there thinking about a thousand different endings to a thousand different scenarios. For the life of me, I could not get into the movie.
Elle picked up on it, and from that night on she made it her mission to find an activity that I liked. It was slow going at first, but we soon discovered my favorite thing to do was explore. Getting out to see the city was something we hadn’t done, and we had a lot of city to explore.
I would plan an itinerary and on Sundays when we were both free, we would head into the city and go to museums, shops, or restaurants I had picked out. It became something to look forward to at the end of a long week, and once we ran out of things to do in the greater Urbana-Champaign area, we branched out into other areas. One of my favorite memories with Elle was a weekend trip to Chicago, it was the late spring when everything was green and the sun was out just long enough to warm your skin on cool days.
The spring of our freshman year was the happiest I’ve ever been. I didn’t have my dad watching over my every move, and I was slowly falling for someone who made me so happy.
Reality hit me hard that summer. I went back home for a few weeks, and my dad dropped the hammer, hard. According to him, I spent the last three months slacking off, straying from my true path. He started drilling me so hard, to the point where we were practicing from sun up to sun down. I couldn’t take any more of it, and after two and a half weeks, I reached out to Elle asking if she wanted to hang out.
Our families lived just under two hours from each other. My dad lived in Chicago, which was two hours north of campus. She lived with her grandparents in Pontiac, which was an hour from the city. We didn’t have a lot of distance between us, but enough to where it felt like I might suffocate under my dad’s thumb.
“Earth to Alex?” Elle moves her head directly in front of mine, waving the television remote in front of my face.
“Sorry, I was zoning,” I shake my head, trying to clear my mind.
“Before the movie even started? That’s totally not like you at all,” she says sarcastically, plopping down on the couch next to me.
I laugh, nodding my head in agreement. “What movie did you pick?”
“The new Avengers movie. Is that cool with you?” She asks.
I nod, knowing I likely will only be paying attention to bits and pieces of it.
As she presses play on the movie and the opening sequence of the movie rolls, I feel a heaviness behind my eyes start to settle in. Maybe falling asleep wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, it would save my brain from the torture I’m about to put it through.
Just a quick nap won’t hurt.
Chapter Eleven
Elle’s Point of View
It took Alex all of five minutes to fall asleep during the movie I put on. I shouldn’t be surprised, movies typically aren’t his thing. What does surprise me is that he stays asleep for the entire movie.
He shifts positions a couple of times, his head falling to my shoulder. I let him stay there like that, deciding that if he fell asleep that quickly he must need the sleep.
I reach forward, grabbing my laptop off of the coffee table. Getting ahead on my prep for tomorrow won’t hurt, not that there’s much to prep, though. I’m only allowed to interview Alex, but I still get to stand on the sidelines during the game.
The first thing I do is check my email. It’s mostly junk, nothing important catches my eye at first glance. Lots of reporters CC’ing me on bullshit that won’t be relevant to me in a few weeks’ time, and lots of spam.
After scrolling through various sports blogs for a bit, Alex shifts again. Our bodies still remain flush against each other, but he moves his head off of my shoulder and turns it to the other side. I glance down at my watch, checking the time. He said he had to report back to his hotel room at six o’clock, and it’s only five now. I’ll wake him in half an hour.
Going back to emails, I yawn as I think about how great a nap would’ve been. I almost consider it, but—
Abrupt, very loud music from the end credits of the movie startles both of us from our position on the couch. Alex jumps awake, and I sit there with my heart thumping. I had tuned most of the movie out, treating the majority of it as background noise. The end credits used a loud, bass-packed instrumental that was so loud it shook the walls of the hotel room.
As I scramble to find the remote, Alex sits there dazed, running a hand through his messy hair. I press mute on the remote before launching the controller to the bed across from where I sit, scared if I touch it again the music will start blaring again.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
“I should set that as my new alarm clock,” he yawns, grabbing his phone and scrolling through it. He tosses it back to the couch after a quick glance.
“Nothing like shaking walls and a broken ear drum to start your mornings off with,” I joke, placing my laptop on the coffee table.
“How was the movie otherwise?” He asks, standing up to stretch. He has a blank expression on his face that I can’t quite read, but I chalk it up to him just waking up.
I shrug. “Got bored. Did some work instead of paying attention,” I gesture toward the TV. “Clearly.”
He laughs, walking toward the mini fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. “I don’t want to leave. I just want to go back to sleep,” he sighs, throwing himself onto my bed.
“You have to go back to your room because I don’t want to be writing another story about you getting fined for breaking another league rule,” I state, walking over toward him.
“I bet I could get Lonzo to cover for me,” he yawns. “I think I might die if I have to get out of this bed.”
“Dramatic much?” I laugh, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at his head.
“Hand me my phone,” Alex says, gesturing toward the couch.
“Oh, no. You can get up and get it,” I say, sitting down at the foot of the bed.
We go back and forth for a bit before he admits defeat and grabs it himself, much to his dismay and to my pleasure. He scrolls for a second before he clicks on what I presume to be his teammate, Alonzo’s, contact information. He brings the phone to his ear and it rings twice before there’s an answer.
“Yo, Lonzo. Cover for me tonight?” Alex asks, giving me puppy dog eyes that Lonzo can’t see. I roll my eyes at him.
“Goddamnit, Bradford. I was gonna ask you to do the same,” I hear Lonzo groan through the receiver.
“Well, I asked first,” Alex counters.
“I’ll figure something out. I’ll stay until room check, but I’m not staying past that. If we get busted, you’re taking half of my fine for my troubles?”
I hold back a laugh.
“Sounds perfect,” Alex smiles, a look of victory overtaking his face. “You’re the best, Lonzo.”
They continue chatting for a couple of minutes before saying their goodbyes. Alex smiles at me, cockily, before placing his phone back on the nightstand next to him.
“You guys are going to get caught,” I shake my head. “They are so strict on that shit this late in the season.”
He shrugs, leaning back against the pillows. “I just don’t really have it in me to care. Lonzo snores. I wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep with him in the room anyway,” he shrugs.
“Yeah, whatever,” I laugh.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, warning bells go off about sleeping in the same bed as Alex. It’s only been a few weeks since that wretched dream, and those thoughts of Alex aren’t totally absolved from my imagination.
For better or worse, I ignore the warning bells.
“If you hog the bed, I’m punching you in the gut,” I shoot him a glare that we both know is meaningless, but the threat holds.
Alex notoriously hogs beds. When he’d stay over at my apartment in college, we always woke up cranky and pissed at each other because of the boxing match that went down in our sleep. He sprawls when he sleeps, and when you’re a six-foot-three professional athlete, there is just no room for that.
Granted, I had a queen bed back then. This one is a king, but I don’t think that added space will make much of a difference.
I rummage through my carry-on for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to wear to bed, even though it’s only six o’clock. I won’t be going to sleep anytime soon, but it seems like Alex is ready for bed.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. I’m ordering room service,” I declare, emerging from the bathroom changed into pajamas.
He lets out a groan from the bed, wailing in frustration. “I should probably eat something.”
“Well, come look at the menu,” I nod, walking toward the coffee table where the pamphlet with that information sits.
“Just order me a salad with salmon,” he yawns from the bed.
I flip through the- very limited- menu. I find a Caesar salad or a baby spinach and pickled beet salad. Alex groans at both options, but ultimately goes with the spinach and adds salmon. He’s in a funk, and I’m not sure why. Sometimes he will get like this before games, but this seems different.
I go with a Caesar salad and a side of french fries, as I’ve learned it’s typically the safest combination when ordering from room service. Those are two things that are hard to mess up, and in some of these places, it feels like they might be trying to. I call in our order, and as I place my order of fries, Alex pipes up from the other side of the bed. “I want fries too!” He exclaims, in a whisper.
I stifle a laugh. “Make that two orders of fries, please.”
“No problem. The current wait is about forty-five minutes,” the person on the other end of the receiver says.
“Perfect. Thank you,” I hang up, relaying to Alex that there’s a forty-five minute wait. That earns me another hearty groan. “Alright, dude. What’s going on?” I ask, moving toward him.
He sighs, shrugging. “Nothing. Nothing really.”
I sit down on the bed where his knees meet the mattress. I gesture for him to scoot a bit, just so I can sit on the ledge by him. “So, the incessant groaning and being attached to my hip tonight has been nothing? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy your company, but this isn’t like you, Alex. Not on the night before a game,” I shake my head.
He groans again, reaching for his phone from the nightstand. After unlocking it and pulling a text screen up, he turns the phone to me. It’s a text from his dad.
Just landed in San Francisco. Don’t fuck this up.
“Give me the phone,” I shake my head, reaching for it as he quickly pulls it away.
“Elle, I can’t say anything,” he shakes his head in defeat. “I’ve just got to deal with it.”
“I wasn’t going to respond, I was going to block his number. You’re completely self-sufficient. You don’t owe him anything,” I shake my head.
He stays quiet, lost in his head. We both know I’m right, but it would take a lot for Alex to ever admit that. His relationship with his father is difficult. On some level, I understand why. You never want to resent your parents. But Alex’s father is not winning any Dad of the Year awards any time soon.
The summer before our sophomore year of college, things got bad between Alex and his father. Alex always alluded to me that on some level, their relationship was rocky. It wasn’t until that summer I saw it in all its glory.
Alex had texted me at four o’clock in the morning almost three weeks after we left campus for the summer, asking if I wanted to hang out. I invited him down to Pontiac, since exploring new areas was something he enjoyed doing.
What I didn’t realize was that my invitation for a day trip would turn into him staying for a whole summer.
I’ll never forget the Alex I saw when he arrived at my grandparent’s doorstep that day in June, all those years ago. The brightness of his eyes were gone, and there was a rigidness to his body that I’ve never seen before. His father quite literally worked all of the life out of him.
From that day on, I’ve never thought highly of Alex’s father.
My grandparents all but demanded he stay with us until we go back to school. I introduced him to lots of my friends from high school, and my grandpa was able to get access to the high school football field to practice as he needed, as long as it wasn’t being utilized by other people. Quinn came to visit for the Fourth of July. That same week, Alex had to report back to campus for summer training.
It was a perfect summer, getting to spend time with my friends, even if the circumstances weren’t great. But, August rolled around and it was right back to reality. Quinn and I had a lease on an apartment, and we were able to move in mid-August. Alex and my grandparents helped me, and Quinn’s parents helped her move her stuff up from Ohio.
It took a few months, but once Alex went primarily no contact with his dad, his sparkle returned. The rain cloud that settled over him at the beginning of the summer was long gone by the time football season rolled around, and by the middle of the season, we were both so busy we only saw each other once or twice a week.
Then, sometime that winter, I started dating Jordan and shit really hit the fan.
“Maybe I should block his number,” Alex says, breaking the silence and pulling me back.
I nod. “I think it’s about five years too late,”
He cuts me a glare. “Elle.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I shake my head. “I think you’re right. Block him and be done with it. He causes you so much more stress than it’s worth,” I urge.
He nods solemnly, a sad look falling over him. I place a hand on his, grasping it hard. He squeezes back, his way of letting me know he’s okay. He lets go of my hand, grabbing his phone from the pillow where he left it. After a few seconds of tapping on the screen, he faces it toward me. “The number is blocked,” he sighs, his shoulders sinking heavily into the bed beneath him.
“I’m proud of you for doing that, Alex. That’s a big step to take,” I nod.
“Thanks, sunshine,” he quips, a sad smile taking over the frown that previously was on his face.
“Oh, do not start with that,” I roll my eyes.
“Usually, I would mean that endearingly. Tonight, I’d say it’s half endearing, half sarcastic,” he smirks, sitting up to toss a pillow at me.
“Jackass!” I huff, standing up to get away from him, but not before I launch the pillow back at him.
“Maybe it’s more twenty-five, seventy-five,” he shrugs.
“Keep it up and I will kick your ass out,” I threaten, though it holds no weight. We banter back and forth for a few more minutes, and it makes me so happy to see Alex lighten up so quickly. He’s still not a hundred percent, but seeing how the small action of blocking his father’s number was able to impact his mood so greatly in such a short period of time says a lot.
Once our food comes up, we eat with Sports Center on in the background. We both clean our plates and for a brief moment, Alex toys with the idea of ordering seconds. He ultimately decides he doesn’t want to wait another hour, so he’ll just go to bed instead.
I grab my laptop and place it on the nightstand on my side of the bed, and take my nighttime supplements and medications. Alex lays on his side, scrolling through apps mindlessly as I move through the hotel room trying to prepare myself for bed, but also trying to do tomorrow-me a favor and lay out my outfit, my notes that I’ll need, and my protein bar for breakfast.
