Page 45 of Sportsball is for Lovers

fifteen

. . .

Sadie

“Okay, but, like,”Ceci says, her wine glass tipping precariously. “How was it?” She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

The Neurospicy Book Club meets monthly in the back of the bookstore I manage. Our core group of people is highly active and our attendance grows each month.

Kiley had a date last week with her dad’s best friend and business partner. We were all surprised when the 20-year old told us she had a date with the 35-year old, especially considering she hasn’t dated much. He didn’t know her growing up; they only met once she was an adult, so it was easier for us “older sisters” to approve of the situation. We don’t want her to be taken advantage of.

Kiley covers her face with her hands, but she can’t hide her blush.

“That good?” Ceci pushes. “Or that bad?”

“Let’s rephrase,” Bex cuts in. “Would you sleep with him again?”

“Yes,” Kiley says without hesitation, and the room erupts in cheers.

The book club started as a fun thing to do. Arielle, Rachel, and I wanted to talk about our love for romance novels. I convinced the previous store manager to let us host it in the bookstore, put out a few flyers… and thirty people showed up.

Ceci is eccentrically fabulous. Bex is working on her Ph.D. in biostatistics and Vanessa works for the Boston Grizzlies Hockey Club; they played lacrosse together at Michigan. They live with Elsy, who is a top violinist with the Boston symphony. Johanna is dating my bud Sullivan—he came into the store looking for a book club for her, but he became one of my closest friends along the way. Rory works with Sullivan’s brother-in-law as a personal trainer at their hoity-toity one-percenters gym. Viv and Kate are rugby players—like, legit rugby stars, on the US National team, and Viv’s been to the Olympics twice. She is seriously intimidating.

And I can’t forget Madison, our lone male representative. He’s a romance writer like me. We met at a writing group meet-up a few years ago and he’s been a barnacle stuck to my side ever since.

Well. Since his parents died, leaving him to raise his five younger siblings, he’s been a little less barnacle-y. He’s got a lot going on. We all get that his priorities have shifted.

Each month, we hang out in the back of the store, drink wine and eat snacks, and talk about books. It’s a safe place for us to unwind and be ourselves. These people are my friends, my family. They get me in a way my parents and sisters never could.

I have my author friends, too. They’re part of my community. There’s a whole network of people like me in the industry and I’ve spent the better part of five years immersed in it.

The meeting isn’t formal. We talk across the circle about books, but there’s no required reading each month. It’s more of a hangout section in our favorite place than anything organized with structure and rules.

Rachel corners me around the snack table. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing’s up,” I tell her automatically.

She narrows her eyes. “You haven’t talked about your book signing last month. Like, at all. Did something happen?”

I shrug. “It was fine.”

“Lu wasn’t a menace?”

“Lu is always a menace.” I laugh. LuAnn has visited Boston twice in the past few years, and both times I’ve brought her to book club. She would fit in perfectly here if she didn’t live in North freaking Dakota.

“I’m just worried about you,” Rachel says, squeezing my arm. “We don’t hang out much anymore.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

We used to live together, us and Arielle. Then Ari started dating Asher and he essentially moved into our apartment. When our lease was up last fall, we all went our separate ways: I bought my townhouse, Rachel moved in with her long-term boyfriend, and Ash and Arielle found a place for themselves.

I do miss that apartment, though.

“We’ll grab dinner soon,” I promise Rach. “You, me, and Erik.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

Squinting at her, I try to figure out why she sounds so noncommittal about something that was essentially her idea.