The Beautiful Game

Chapter Twelve - Carter

   "How did he die?" Seamus asks, for once there's no ounce of a joke or smile on his face.

    "Cancer. Said he was diagnosed and died only a couple of months later. They were super close."

    "That fucking sucks." Seamus says before taking a drink of his soda, Marcus nods his head in agreement and the most I can do is sit and stare at my food.

    I have never felt like a bigger asshole in my entire life. My stomach twists as the memory surfaces, my ego bruised and wanting to do damage, the look on her face after I'd sneered at her. Daddy issues.

    Seamus and Marcus talk through the rest of breakfast, mainly about tomorrows game, casting occasional curious glances in my direction. I don't touch the rest of my meal. I feel nauseated. No longer the result of a hangover, instead the result of guilt, regret and realising you're a total piece of shit.
We pay our bill and walk back to our place, thanks to the greasy carbs and sugar, the hangover is subsiding, the guilt not so much.

    I need to see Lou. I need to apologise to her.

    "Hey, can one of you take me for my car?"

    "Sure." Marcus jumps up, undoubtedly keen for the opportunity to see Ella again, he grabs the keys for his pick up and we head out.

    "Did something happen last night?" He asks as we stop at a red light.

    "Other than me being a total cunt?" Marcus whistles and turns his attention back on the road.

    "That's not it."

    "What?"

    "As your mate I can say this, but Carter, you're usually a dickhead with girls. You just haven't ever seemed to feel bad about it before."

     Marcus parks his pickup and I fiddle with my keys in my pocket, anxiously glancing up at the apartment building. I wonder whether I'll burst into flames as soon as I step over the threshold.

    "You coming?" I ask him as I get out, he seems to think about it, hesitating.

     "No, we're supposed to be going slow. Slow isn't turning up the next day, is it?"

    "Just, hang on a sec."

     "I'm not your emotional support animal Carter. Pull on your big boy pants and apologise for whatever fucked up thing you did." And with that said, he puts the car in drive and leaves.

    I press the button for their apartment and wait as it rings through, it hadn't even occurred to me that Lou could point blank refuse to let me in. Likely she would, and I wouldn't blame her for it. I hoped for Ella or Kate to answer.

    "Carter?" Ella's surprised voice rings through the phone system, I look up and spot the small CCTV camera, waving at it sheepishly. A long silence passes.

     "Is there a reason you called? Or do you just like pressing buttons?"

    "Oh shit, er, yea. Is Blond- Lou there?"

    "No, she's not." More silence. Ella's tone is short and clipped, God, Lou probably told her about me hooking up in her room.

     "I just want to talk to her."

     "Carter, she's really not here." Ella cuts me off, quite frankly I'm glad because I was doing a terrible job. The buzzing intercom system silences, completely cutting dead as Ella put the phone down. I thrust my hand into my hair, brushing it back off my clammy forehead. I press the button again. And again. And again.

    "For fuck's sake Carter." Ella's frustrated voice seeps out of the intercom again.

    "Do you know where she is?"

    "Yes."

     "Where is she?"

     "She doesn't want to talk to you!" Kate's voice calls from what sounds like the other side of the room Ella's in. The buzzing cuts out, call ended.

***

     "Try her Facebook dipshit." Seamus spits out around a mouthful of Oreos.

     "Seamus you fucking genius." I grab my phone, typing in Lou, not knowing her last name, I searched. Surely there weren't going to be many Lou's. "Nothing."

    "Who doesn't have Facebook?" Seamus shovels more biscuits into his mouth.

    "She has Instagram." Marcus comes into the front room, flopping onto the couch and throwing his iPhone at me. The profile lights up from where it landed on the seat. "Ella told me to follow Lou and Kate the other night, she said they needed to get to know me a little better."

    "Me thinks Ella has you by the balls." Marcus just rolls his eyes and ignores Seamus.

    I ignore the both of them, their bickering faded as I stared at the profile.

    The last photo she'd posted was two and a half years ago and instead of a sea of filters and duck face selfies, I was met by bright, weird, and wonderful photographs. It was quite obvious, very quickly, that Lou's Instagram account had only ever been for her.

     She'd posted things she'd found funny, or interesting, or beautiful. One photograph was simply of a squirrel sat beside a tree root, she'd captioned it: 'I like big nuts and I cannot lie.'

    There was a photograph of Ella and Kate, looking up from the notes compiled on a single bed, the undeniable clutter of a dorm room. They weren't just smiling in the photograph, their grins were wide and carefree, mascara stained their under eyes, they had been laughing. The caption read: 'Is a Les Misérables audition supposed to be this funny?'

    Another was a photograph of a dapper old man, sat alone on a bench, unpacking some homemade sandwiches. She'd captioned it: 'Enjoy every sandwich.'

    One photo was of a hot chocolate, with a shit ton marshmallows, rich looking chocolate sauce and fresh cream dribbling down the side of the cup. She'd captioned it: 'The ChocoLou-Special, half price if you don't go into a diabetic coma.' She'd tagged the location as Burnt Toast, a coffeehouse not far off campus.

    The bright colours that were on her Instagram were the reoccurring hummingbirds that she photographed, after every few posts, there'd be a hummingbird in there somewhere. How she'd managed to capture a photo of the ridiculously fast little birds I'd never know, but there they were.

    I kept going, surfing through her posts, analysing every photo, unable to stop from grinning like a dork at the captions she'd written. When I came across a photograph of her sat in the middle of three guys. Three big guys.

    They were all the same tone of honey blonde hair, olive skin and wide eyes. They were each looking at her, one of them had his hand in her hair, roughing it up for the photograph. The way they huddled around her, massive, smiling, and proud. She was their centre.

    Her brothers.

    Lou was holding up her Michigan University acceptance letter, grinning at the camera- no, someone behind the camera.

    It was strange, how different she looked in the photo. The sight of her, I mean, she is gorgeous but she looked so unguarded and happy. Breathtakingly beautiful. Her blonde hair glowing in the sunlight, her dimples, the absence of ice in her blue gaze.

    Something about being on Lou's private profile, the insight into her mind, her sense of humour and the complete lack of self-serving photos, made my chest tighten.

    I was seeing a hidden, deeper part of her, and right now, I didn't deserve to.