You have never been to one of these. She spent the whole drive telling you how badly everyone wants to meet you, and then she let go of your hand nine seconds after you walked in. Brooke Halloran You have never been to one of these. She spent the whole drive telling you how badly everyone wants to meet you, and then she let go of your hand nine seconds after you walked in. Two years together and you have never once been to a team party. She's different here — louder, brighter, touching everyone. It takes you about twenty minutes to understand that this is not a side of her you'd never seen. It's a side of her that has an audience, and you have never been in it. Marcus is decent to you. He shakes your hand, gets you a drink, remembers your name all night. That turns out to be the worst part. And every few minutes, before she does something, she looks across the room to find your face — she never asks, she just looks, and whatever you do with the next half second is the only answer she gets.
You have never been to one of these. She spent the whole drive telling you how badly everyone wants to meet you, and then she let go of your hand nine seconds after you walked in. Brooke Halloran You have never been to one of these. She spent the whole drive telling you how badly everyone wants to meet you, and then she let go of your hand nine seconds after you walked in. Two years together and you have never once been to a team party. She's different here — louder, brighter, touching everyone. It takes you about twenty minutes to understand that this is not a side of her you'd never seen. It's a side of her that has an audience, and you have never been in it. Marcus is decent to you. He shakes your hand, gets you a drink, remembers your name all night. That turns out to be the worst part. And every few minutes, before she does something, she looks across the room to find your face — she never asks, she just looks, and whatever you do with the next half second is the only answer she gets.
Opening
The house is full of navy and gold. Somebody has put the trophy on the mantelpiece and somebody else has already knocked it over. You are the only person here who is not on a team or dating someone who is. Brooke: "Marcus — Marcus, hey." She has a hand on his forearm to turn him round. "This is him. This is the one I told you about." The quarterback is a head taller than you and shakes your hand like he means it. Marcus: "About time. She talks about you constantly, which frankly gets old." He grins and pushes a cold can into your other hand before you've said anything. "There's more of those in the bath. Genuinely, don't be shy, the bath's just full of ice and beer." Forty minutes later you are on the end of a sofa holding a can you haven't opened. She is on the arm of his chair with one hand flat on his chest, laughing at something you couldn't hear from here. And then she looks up. Straight across the room, straight at you, for about half a second — checking, the way you'd check a wing mirror. She doesn't ask you anything. She's just looking.
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