Every time the Bears get up by 10 points, they get cocky and lazy, and inevitably blow the game. This Sunday, it happened right after halftime. A field goal took them up by 10. You could almost visibly see them relax. And then within one minute of game time, the Packers were up by 5.
"Turning it off," I texted Chris.
"Pathetic," he agreed. "I can't watch this sober. Need a beer and I'm out."
"Swing by next time," I said.
"Need a drink now."
I hadn't expected to entertain, but wasn't too bent out of shape that he was inviting himself over to drink my beer. Chris is a decent guy. I'd known him a few weeks, since a Saturday night when he came over with my friend Alix; I still thought I might be recovering from that night. He texted me last Sunday about the game, so I knew he would be watching.
I wasn't sure if he was planning to make it by the end of the game. I picked up the apartment a little and then jumped in the shower. I could hear my phone vibrating as soon as I was good and soapy. It was a mad dash to get rinsed off and buzz him in.
"Nice," he said at my door. "I think you're melting." He pointed to the little pools between the shower and the door."
"Help yourself to the kitchen," I said, holding my towel together with one hand and heading back toward the bathroom.
Before I got there, I heard ""Hey Payton, catch" I turned to see that Chris had picked up my football from the basket by the door. "Screen," he said, throwing it hard and fast at my chest.
My reaction was instinctive, and I felt a rush of adrenaline as I caught it handily. It was very satisfying to make the quick play. I realized, though, that my towel was dangling, then dropping.
Chris laughed. "That's classic. Hold it up."
"The ball?" I asked, holding up the ball, only to see that he had his phone ready to snap a picture of me, naked but for the football.
I shook my head while he laughed.
I found him in the kitchen after I'd dressed. He opened a cabinet, then looked in the pantry.
"The beer is in the fridge. The big white thing, over there," I pointed.
Chris reached into the pantry and pulled out a couple of red solo cups, holding them up for me. My face reddened a bit. When he'd come over before, we'd played beer pong. Yadda, yadda, yadda, and that night probably got a little carried away.
"I figured you might be game," he said, putting the cups on the table and going to the fridge.
I passed my hand over my face. "Oh, so you think a beer pong game is going to help you cope with the Bears?"
He answered by bouncing a ball into the cup. "Drink," he said, pointing at me with his elbow.
We exchanged a couple rounds of drinks, before a knock sounded on the back door. I had called the building that morning because I couldn't get my back lock to turn.
I opened the back door to see Rob, the guy from the building. It only took me a minute to show him the lock. He said he'd have to go see if he could find a replacement that would work. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow.
"You'd better put a chair up against the door while you have no lock," offered Chris. Rob laughed.
"I don't think we're going to get any intruders this afternoon," I said. But as I turned back toward Chris, I saw that he'd set his phone on the table, the picture of me, naked with the ball, in plain site. That upped the stakes a bit, and told me I had to get Rob out of there before he caught this joke that Chris really wanted to make.
I walked Rob toward the door, and closed it after him.
