And I could use the distraction. I know I won’t be able to not watch the game and watching the game can only lead to thinking of Joel. As if I’ve done anything but that this past week.

“Great. Thank you.” She leans over the counter and hugs my neck. “My shift starts at six.”

The rest of the day goes by without too much dwelling on my shitty week, and when the game starts and I’m sitting between Blair and Clark, a friend of Mario’s from the baseball team, I almost feel good.

Almost.

Part of me is even excited to see Joel on the flat screens plastered on every wall. Except it’s not the real Joel. It’s some solemn, defeated looking impersonator. As the halftime buzzer sounds and the announcers begin to discuss the first half of the game, I realize he’s just as miserable as me and it shows in his less than stellar performance.

Maybe it’s stupid of me to not be jumping up and down at this knowledge, but if Joel isn’t going to be with me, I want him to go back to the charming easy-going guy I longed for. I don’t want or need his pain. It certainly doesn’t make my own misery feel better to have company.

“This was supposed to be an easy game,” Mario says as Gabby brings a new pitcher to our table.

I’m still shocked that Gabby took a job at the most popular college hangout. Half the time she’s hiding behind her hair hoping no one will notice her, but there is no hiding her gorgeous blonde hair and “remarkable ass.” That from Clark who, bless his heart, tried to say it as a compliment but sent Gabby running back behind the bar.

The rest of the table weighs in on the game, but I stop listening and pull out my phone.

I know there is very little chance that the guys spend halftime checking their phones, but I do know someone that may just be able to get a message to him.

Joel

Coach’s suit jacket is tossed over a chair and he’s currently pulling at his tie. What a shitty first half. Florida Gulf is playing the half of their lives, but even so, we should be destroying them. Shaw, our rookie point man, is overwhelmed in his first tournament game and I’m tossing up bricks.

Letting go of distractions and focusing on the present is something athletes learn to do when they get to a competitive level. It’s necessity. For some players, they switch gears and are able to leave it all off the court, some use bad days to fuel their motivation. To be honest, I’ve never really needed to develop a coping mechanism. After Polly, I turned off that part of my brain, not just when I was playing ball but all the time. Until Katrina.

“Moreno,” Coach’s voice pulls me out of my own thoughts. “Gonna let you start the second half, but I’ve got Johnson on standby if you can’t pull it together.”