Since that party, I’ve seen Darryl entirely too much and Bex entirely too little. Despite us clearing up the kiss situation, it’s never been more obvious that a guy hates my guts. On the field, he plays his hardest, but in the huddle, on the sideline, and in the locker room, he acts like I don’t exist. After our win against West Virginia this past Saturday, in which he caught two of my touchdowns, I thought he’d chill out, but nope. You’d think he caught us fucking on top of the pool table, not kissing once when it was clear I didn’t even know who she was.
