Chapter 13

: Andi

A fter what seems like the longest day known to man, I’m finally back in my apartment. The minute I landed in Denver, I practically sprinted off the plane and to the counter to get put on the next flight back to Boston.

Since my finances haven’t changed since yesterday, I couldn’t afford to upgrade myself to first class. I wasn’t fortunate enough to get upgraded thanks to a cranky toddler either. Flying coach sucks.

I wish I could have enjoyed the full experience of flying in the lap of luxury. Instead, I cranked up the volume on my earbuds and tried to bury myself in work. I’d planned on reviewing at least four files. I didn’t even get one completed. My attention was on Brandon.

Every move he made distracted me. Hell, his breathing distracted me. His snoring definitely did. Seriously, how could he fall asleep so quickly and completely?

Not gonna lie, it’s kind of impressive.

And maybe a tad envy producing.

That’s neither here nor there. What matters is that yet again Brandon Nix got in my way. As long as Nathan doesn’t pull me to cover any more Buzzards games this year, our paths won’t cross, and my life will be better.

I trudge through my apartment door close to midnight. I can’t believe that I left here at 4 a.m. today. That this all happened in the same one box on the calendar. This exhaustion has hit an all-new level. I don’t bother digging my phone charger out of my bag before passing out on top of my duvet, still fully dressed.

The next thing I know, I jolt awake, not sure of what time it is, where I am, or even who I am. My eyes burn and feel like they’re full of sawdust. My teeth are definitely fuzzy. It takes me a few minutes to orient.

I’m home. I look for my phone on the nightstand only to find it totally dead. Through a fog, I vaguely remember not wanting to put forth the effort to find my charger last night. Well, that was a poor decision.

I finally dig it out, plugging my phone in before sprinting to the bathroom. I am off my game, that’s for sure. Yesterday seems like a bad dream. After finishing up in the bathroom, I wander around my apartment in a daze.

Did yesterday even happen? I’m not sure what the most unbelievable part of it was: the holy-terror child on the plane, getting moved next to Brandon Nix of all people, almost crashing, or finding out my brother has a whole secret life that I knew nothing about. Not to mention my parents are enjoying a tropical beach vacation.

I reach for my phone to re-read the text messages with Benj, if only to verify that this wasn’t some sort of fever dream. But there are way too many notifications on my phone to deal with to ever even get to my brother’s name.

What the holy hell?

I look at the clock. It’s almost noon. I was only out for twelve hours. How could I have this many notifications? This cannot be good.

After verifying that none are from my family, I start to wade through. Something big must have happened.

I have over 100 ClikClak notifications, which is the most it will tell you at a time. It’s been a few weeks since the video of the game went viral, so activity had died down on that platform. There must be a resurrection of that clip. You know, the one where Bad-Breath Brandon is screaming in my face?

Except ... that’s not it. That’s not it at all.

Oh, it still involves Brandon Nix. But this is worse. So much worse. Infinitely worse.

There’s footage of us at the airport together. Of us posing with that kid. Of him putting my luggage in the overhead bins. And commentary on all of it.

Lots of commentary.

If people weren’t speculating from that original video, they sure are now.

There are hundreds of videos of us. I mean, there are only two or three, but hundreds—maybe even thousands—of people have reposted or made their own content featuring it. There’s no way this isn’t going to get back to Nathan, if it hasn’t already.

My career is over.

My hands shake as I flip over to my messages and my emails. Nothing from Nathan or the USSLRA. Yet. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.

If I’d eaten anything in the last 18 hours, there’s no doubt I’d be vomiting it up. All because the spawn of Satan sitting next to me doused me in milk. I’m never drinking milk again.

I pace my apartment, running my hands through my hair as if that will solve the problem. Every time my phone dings, I jump, convinced that it will be the shoe dropping from Nathan. I’m in a cold sweat.

Good Lord, I smell.

I decide that maybe a long hot shower is what I need to relax and make myself feel better. Except I can’t turn my mind off no matter what I do. So now I’m pruny and my hair is wet, and I don’t have the faculties to dry and style it.

I mean, I never feel like styling it, which is why the slicked-back ponytails and braids I wear as a referee work great for me.

I stand there, in my towel, looking around my apartment for something—anything—that will give me a clue what to do next. Normally I’d text Benj, but I don’t want to bother him on his trip. My parents for that matter either. I’m certainly not calling Mike.

I don’t even have a pet to commiserate with. I travel too much to be able to care for another living creature.

I’m truly alone.

Alone and desperate.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if you looked up desperate in the dictionary, you’d be sure to see my picture, limp wet hair and all.

@Andi: You have a really big following on ClikClak right? Are you considered an influencer?

@HannahLaRosa: I wouldn’t say influencer, but I have a decent-sized following. Why?

@Andi: Um, I seem to be a little viral again.

@HannahLaRosa: I see that. You and Brandon just can’t seem to stay away from each other. winky smiley face

The thought of him fills me with rage. This is all his fault.

@Andi: That’s just it. It was a coincidence. I swear.

@HannahLaRosa: Coincidence or not, the internet is shipping you hard.

As an elder millennial, I don’t always understand what the young folks are talking about. Normally I try to hide the fact that I’m old and uncool, but there’s no time for that now.

@Andi: Shipping?

@HannahLaRosa: You know, wanting you to be in a relationship.

Ew. Vomit.

@Andi: Um no. No, thank you. Never ever. Not if he were the last human being on Earth.

@HannahLaRosa: Yeah, Brandon’s tough. I think there’s a soft heart under the gruff exterior, but he’s definitely an acquired taste.

@Andi: Didn’t you say he kidnapped you?

I generally don’t want to know anything about Brandon Nix, but I am admittedly dying to know that story.

@HannahLaRosa: Long story. But I’m sure that’s not why you reached out. What’s going on? Why does my following matter?

Right. I need to stay focused. This situation is bad, and it’s only bound to get worse if I can’t nip it in the bud. The feeling of desperation overwhelms me, and I type out the whole sob story about Nathan threatening my job. But as soon as I hit send, regret consumes me.

What did I just do? I don’t know Hannah LaRosa, other than what I see on social media. I don’t know the type of person she is. I don’t know that she won’t write a tell-all story, putting her own spin on it. If she does, I’ll never officiate another soccer game.

Chances are my career is already over either way.

I stare at the messages in the ClikClak app, wishing I could have a re-do over the last day. If Brandon hadn’t made me pose with that kid. If Brandon hadn’t said hi to Mike. If the plane hadn’t made an emergency landing. If Brandon hadn’t squeezed my hand so tightly. If that baby hadn’t had a tantrum. If Benj had only told me he wasn’t in Denver, I never would have been on that plane to begin with. If Brandon hadn’t screamed in my face in the first place, I wouldn’t have felt the need to run away to the safety of my brother.

It all circles back to Brandon Nix.

I truly do hate that man.