Page 30 of The Game Changer
The main living area is a blank canvas. Hell, it might as well be a hotel room. All there is in the way of decorations are a few photos on the mantel of me and my parents. Everything is off-white or grey, with the exception of my dark blue couch. I know without looking that there’s only four sets of dishes and cutlery in the kitchen.I never have people over other than my parents, or Dom and Coral, so why do I need more? Besides, when I left Ontario, and the apartment I shared with my ex, I let her keep just about everything.
But I’ve been in Cedar Creek for almost a year now. And what do I have to show for it, other than a baseball team I’m trying to rebuild? Since I moved back, I’ve been focused on my parents, and the team, and nothing else.
Depressed by my own damn thoughts, I move into the large open kitchen, open a cupboard, and reach into the back for the jar of Nutella I keep hidden away. Jar in hand, I fish around in the cutlery drawer for the special spoon my mom got me as a gag gift one Christmas, back when I was in university. It has “My Nutella Spoon” engraved on it, and I only ever use it at times like this, when I need the dopamine rush of a scoop of Nutella.
I take my treat over to the couch and sink down on one end. The same end I always sit in. On the only cushion that’s even a little bit worn or sagging, seeing as it’s rare for someone to be sitting in the other spots.
Fuck, that’s pathetic.
Maybe Mom and Dad were right, and I won’t ever be fully happy alone, but I can be content, right? And isn’t that better than being in a relationship that will never measure up to the impossibly high standards they set with their marriage?
I probably shouldn’t hold every relationship up to theirs, I’m sure there are plenty of other happy couples out there. But when you grow up witnessing firsthand what true, unconditional love and acceptance and support looks like, it’s hard to accept anything less.
And no one has ever made me feel like unconditional love is possible for me. No one has ever sparked that deep of a connection.
No one until a particular redhead knocked my entire world off its axis with one kiss… I shut that train of thought down quickly.
I can’t go there. Not yet. Not after only one damn kiss.
Sleep doesn’t come easy, and when I wake up the next morning, I’m glad it’s only Sunday. I drag myself out of bed, get ready, and head over to Dom and Coral’s for brunch, a monthly tradition we’ve had since I moved back.
Coral opens the door, her tightly-cropped black curls covered in a colourful scarf. “Ooh, you brought the good croissants.” She grabs the container out of my hands before stepping forward and kissing my cheek. “Morning, Luca.”
“Morning,” I reply, stepping inside their house. It’s everything my apartment is not. Warm, cozy, full of colour, life, and love.
My best friend comes out from the kitchen wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Cook.” All I do is look at him, and he lifts the pair of kitchen tongs he’s holding and shakes them at me.
“Not one word, or I’m not cooking the rubbery shit you call bacon.”
“There’s nothing wrong with tempeh bacon,” I say as we all move back into the kitchen.
Dom shudders as he returns to the stove where he’s finishing up the food for brunch. “There’s so much wrong with it, I don’t know where to start.”
Conversation is easy as we all work together to get food on the table. It’s always like that with the three of us, which makes sense, considering we’ve been friends for over twenty-five years.
After we eat and clean up, we head into their living room and sit. None of us is in any hurry to get on with the day, but especially not me, since all I have to look forward to is going back to my empty apartment and overthinking everything some more.
“I need more coffee. I’m gonna go start a fresh pot,” Dom announces during a break in conversation. He goes into the kitchen, and the sounds of him getting out the beans he likes to grind fresh filters back into the living room where Coral is now staring at me.
“Alright. Spill.”
Damn it.“You’re way too observant sometimes,” I gripe, leaning forward and placing my elbows on my knees.
“Don’t have to be that observant to realize you’re caught up in your head about something, or my husband would’ve realized it.”
I laugh. “Trust me, he knows, he just doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, I do.” Coral moves to the spot on the couch next to me, and leans her elbow against the back of it,tucking her leg under her body and giving me a soft smile. “What’s going on, Luca?”
I lean back, letting my head fall against the back of the couch so I’m staring up at the ceiling. “Do you remember how I used to complain about my parents, how affectionate they can be with each other and how they finish each other’s sentences and shit?”
Coral sighs. “Of course, I do. You and Dom thought it was corny and gross, and I thought it was romantic.”
“Dom only thought it was corny and gross until he realized he was in love with you, and then he started doing the same damn shit.”
Coral laughs, and her hand lightly slaps the back of my head. “Don’t make fun of my man.”
“It’s kind of my job as his best friend.”
