The Beautiful Truth

// 10

"Seriously!" I exclaimed to no one in particular when my phone rang for the third time in twenty minutes. I was trying to watch Game Day, here!

"Hey," Barton announced before I could even say hello.

"Hey," I sighed. "What's up?"

"Seems you've got a pretty important football game to watch here in—"

"Yeah, our game doesn't start til 4."

He laughed. "Right, but your boy plays at 12:30. Why don't you meet me and the guys over at the Bear's Lair—"

"But—"

"A) They will have your game on before Cal starts, trust me... B) How many times do I have to tell you, we can get you in..."

I sighed. "Ah...OK, well...be warned, I will yell at the TV."

Barton laughed. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"When are you guys going?"

"Actually, we're here already. Saturday brunch...Bloody Mary's...Seth never went to bed last night, I don't think, but Alex and I like to post-up for the games."

"Is that ol' blue eyes on the phone?!" one of his friends yelled.

"Seth says hello," Barton sighed. "See you soon? We'll save you a seat at the bar, right in front of your Trojans game."

"Sweet," I agreed. "Yeah, I'll leave here soon."

"Right on. I'll be seeing you."

So, I put on my favorite vintage Cal t-shirt with my shortest cutoffs, slipped on my flip-flops and headed out for a day of football. As expected, The Lair was packed, even this early. The bouncer smiled at me, then opened the door, waving me inside.

"How'd he know who I was?" I laughed, sliding into the empty barstool between Seth and Barton.

"We told him to look for a girl with the bluest eyes he'd ever see in his life," Seth explained.

I looked from Seth to Barton, and across Barton to Alex, Micki's favorite bass player in a locally famous band.

Alex shrugged. Barton was looking over my head with his mouth open. I turned back around to face Seth.

"Ah, Barton's words, not mine," Seth said under his breath.

I pressed my lips together and raised my eyebrows.

"So what are you drinking?" Barton asked, obviously happy to change the subject.

Turning to face him, I exhaled with a laugh. "Ah.....water will do for now. I can't watch him play while I'm drunk."

Barton nodded sideways, almost rolling his eyes. "Right. Water it is."

"So, Oklahoma," Alex said loudly, presumably to me, "how's that crazy roommate of yours?"

I forced out a laugh, almost choking on the first sip of water I'd just taken. I hadn't expected him to ask about her. "Micki's doing fine. She's in Tennessee this weekend."

Alex just nodded. "I figured."

"You want any food?" Barton asked, returning my attention to him and piercing me with those steel-colored eyes.

"Uh—"

"Come on, did you come all the way down here, have us get you i—"

"Shhh..." both Alex and Barton quieted Seth, who had been talking very loud.

He continued in a whisper-yell hybrid. "—have us get you in to the bar, only to sit here and drink water?!"

Seth smelled like he'd been out all night. I was becoming semi-regretful that I'd left my dorm to come sit next to him while trying to watch Talyn play. Concentrating with him in my ear was going to be a challenge.

"Dude, go home," Barton grimaced.

"Why?" Seth argued.

Barton slid off his barstool and rolled his eyes. Without saying a word, he moved his stool out from the bar, pulled me and my stool over two feet where his had been, then drug his back in between me and Seth before climbing back on. "You're a dick, you know that?"

Seth just shrugged.

I looked at Alex. "What's good here?"

Alex chuckled and rubbed his messy dark hair. For a rock band, they sure looked like regular college kids this morning. "French toast if you're eating breakfast...uh, any sandwich or a quesadilla if you're looking for lunch."

"A regular, huh?"

Alex smiled. "Yeah, I'm a senior here, so I've had some time to think about it."

"No way! I didn't know you go here. I thought you all went to school together."

Alex laughed again. "Seth probably couldn't spell Stanford, so that's a negative. I'm also not the original bass player—they just kind of picked me up along the way a few years ago."

I nodded. "So what's your major here?"

Alex glanced over my head at Barton, who was pretending to ignore Seth next to him.

"Music."

"Of course," I said.

Alex smiled genuinely. "Yeah, it's kinda what I do."

Barton elbowed me gently. I turned to face him again and he nodded toward the TV—the early game had just wrapped up and given way to the next match-up's pre-game coverage on ESPN, and Talyn Parrish's name was in HD graphics as the camera zoomed in on him throwing perfect spirals to warm up on the field at USC.

I was locked in. That was my best friend. In the back of my mind, I was trying to convince myself that having a front row barstool in front of a 80-inch LCD screen was better than being there. At the forefront, I was mesmerized.

Talyn Parrish looked like nothing short of a movie star on that screen. I couldn't help but notice how gorgeous he was—despite the fact that I was looking at my best friend. After what felt like an eternity of staring, I figured it must have been due to not having seen him in so long, the goofy pictures he programmed into my phone not withstanding.

Barton laughed next to me. "You see that?"

I looked over at him, breaking my transfixion on the TV. "See what?"

Barton nodded at the TV, where the broadcasters were still sizing up Talyn, and he was still throwing perfect passes. "Check out his tape."

"Wha—" And just as I was about to ask 'what tape?' I saw it. On the athletic tape Talyn used to wrap both his wrists, he'd written the letters 'SF' as bold as he possibly could. I was a little surprised. Wrapping his wrists, he'd done since making the varsity team in high school, but writing initials on them...my initials on them, I'd never seen.