Chapter Four

Cook's POV

We settled on a few weeks away on a Tuesday after practice as we do not have any plans with the team, and we will be hungry after practice.

Tuesday is here, and practice was more intense than I thought it would be.

Over the past few weeks, I have noticed that Shakir has stopped being mouthy. I heard Coach Marx aggressively talking to him during the game against the Dolphins after he made a smart comment to me. I do not know what was said, but whatever was said, it must have actually clicked in Shakir's head because he has been quieter since that conversation.

His glares have also settled down, everyone now and then I will catch him glaring, but he tries to pretend he wasn't and smiles at me. I do not know how to feel about it. I think he still hates me, and I don't know why. How many times can I apologize for the same thing to make him stop holding a grudge?

I walk out to the parking lot, and am waiting. Shakir has offered to drive as he loves showing off his Cybertruck. Shakir is slow when it comes to getting dressed so he might me a minute. I will just be standing here.

I get bored easily, so I pull out my phone and start playing this odd game that some of the players have been playing, it is called, "Block Blast." Some of the other guys get really angry while playing the game, however, I find it rather relaxing. I'm not sure how good I am compared to others, but one of them was bragging about having a high score of 75,000, and my score is 135,215, so I must be at least a little good.

I have just messed up around 52,000, but it is okay because I hear Shakirs laugh come out of the building. Who is he laughing with now? This man has such a wide range of emotions and expressions, I am kind of jealous. How is he so genuine? Wait.. is he genuine or is it a show?

Shakir yells, "Oh hey Cook!" He is walking with a defense line that towers over him. I do not like them together, and I do not know why I feel this way. Shakir doesn't even like me, I think he only agreed to go with me out of pity.

"Where is the restaurant again?" He asks me. The tall man had continued walking to his car that is too tiny for him, and it is funny seeing him drive such a petite car.

"It is just a few blocks away, maybe a four minute drive max."

"Okay, good, I am so fucking hungry."

He curses so much, I don't know if it is a turn off or not. Hold up...why am I thinking about him in that way? I cannot be thinking about him like that. He is my teammate. I need to not let myself express these feelings, or else, I could face some pretty serious repercussions.

We get to the restaurant, and the hostess seats us. We are sitting in a booth, near a window. There is a smooth jazz music playing, similar to that of the music that plays in elevators. There is a peaceful aroma throughout the air, as well as the smell of food cooking on a grill. It is an odd mixture of smells, but it is making me very hungry.

The waitress pops by and asks for our drink order. She asks if we want any alcoholic drinks. I order one, and Shakir does as well. However, he is driving.

I say to him, "Are you sure you should be drinking since you have to drive?"

"Yeah, that's probably not a good idea, even if it is only one drink, I still shouldn't."

"Okay, thank you. Well, now I am not going to. It is not fair."

We both end up ordering a raspberry lemonade instead. I wasn't sure what to get now, so when Shakir said, "I'll have a raspberry lemonade." I just followed with, "I'll have the same."

I feel bad because we have spent so much time on our drink order. This poor waitress probably hates us.

Shakir seems really nervous, but so am I.

I have a bad habit of picking at my nails, I hope Shakir doesn't know this.

Shakir asks me, "Your nails good man? You keep touching them."

"Yeah, they're good."

He notices something is up, but lets it go, and I am extremely grateful, because this is the first time I am hanging out with him, and I do not want to explore the depths of mental health with him yet. I don't know if we will even hang out again. I hope we do, even though there hasn't been much conversing so far, I really enjoy his presence.

He speaks up and it startles me at least, my head snaps his way, and he is surprised. "Woah, what's up?" he says.

"Nothing, you just startled me."

"Oh my bad man."

"You're good. What were you saying?"

"I was just asking where you grew up."

"Oh, I grew up in Miami. What about you?"

"I moved around a lot because my Dad was in the military. But I spent a good amount of time in SoCal. A bit south of LA."

"Oh wow, two very different coasts."

"Did you like growing up in Miami?"

I responded, "Yeah it was chill, how's SoCal?"

"It's okay, a lot of stuck up people."

Our conversation carried, and our food arrived.

I had ordered a grilled chicken sandwich, and Shakir ordered a chicken salad.

He is more mindful of his diet, and I admire that.

Our conversation flowed in our college football careers. I know he played at Boise State. He knows I played at Georgia, and by the sounds of it, he knows more about me, than I know about him.. Which I do not like...

I start thinking about our first encounter...

I say, "I'm sorry about plowing into you by the way."

He responds in a calm demeanor, "Hey, it's okay, I know you didn't mean it. It's football, it is going to happen. I was just having an off day, and took it out on a stranger that I thought I'd never see again. I'm sorry."

"It's good, I understand, we all have those days."

"Yeah, my bad for holding a grudge for so long."

"It's okay, I'm glad we got over it, and hopefully we can be friends?"

"Yeah, that's cool with me," he replies.

Oh my gosh. He wants to be my friend, I cannot believe that. Why would he possibly want to be my friend? I'm not complaining, but I'm shocked. I thought we'd come, we'd apologize, and go our own ways peacefully coexisting. However, friends? That is much more than I thought would come of this...

"We should..." I begin to say when I abruptly get cut off.

Two young boys had come over to us. They were probably around six and eight years old. Two young brothers, each one had shoulder length braids. Both of them had blue and red beads.

They were shrieking with joy, and I could not comprehend them. Shakir is smiling so big right now. I am so confused. What is going on? Then it clicks. Oh my goodness, they are Bills Fans. This is my first interaction with fans in public.

The younger boy says, "Are you Shakir and Cook?"

Shakir and I look at each other and start laughing. He turns to the little boy, and responds

"Yes, we are. Do you want our autographs?"

The two boys are smiling so large, it is kind of cute. "OH MY GOD, yes, please!"

Shakir is wearing a Bills baseball cap, and it is relatively new so it is in good condition. He calls the waitress over and asks for a sharpie. I cannot believe him. I have never seen this side of him before. He is so sweet, and he is so good with children.

The waitress brings the sharpie over to the table. The boys are patiently waiting and whispering to each other. Shakir signs the left side of the brim of the cap, and hands me the cap, and says, "Here, your turn."

I take the cap and the sharpie, and sign the right side. I am on such a high right now. I cannot believe a fan came up to us. Shakir is much more expressive than me, so I smile so the boys are not scared of me. They walk away, and scurry back to the table that their mom is sitting at watching the encounter. She is smiling, and she says something to them, and they are both so griddy, it is such a cute encounter.

It makes me miss my mom. My mom was a single-parent, and she worked her hardest to provide for all my siblings and I. She cares so much for all of us, without her my brother and I would not be in the league, and my other siblings would not have the successes they do.

I feel the need to express my feelings to Shakir. I say to him, "That family is so cute. It makes me miss my mom and my siblings."

"They are really cute. I miss my parents. They have a love so strong, you can feel it a mile away."

I wish my parents did, but the past is the past, and I cannot change it, and things happened exactly how they did so that I am where I am today.

At this point, our meals were long gone, and I was getting anxious that the staff were going to kick us out because the table next to us had two changes.

I say to Shakir, "We should hang out again."

"Oh yeah, for sure he responds."

This weird feeling begins to build in my chest. What is this feeling...?

I cannot believe that he wants to hang out with me again. I sense a heat coming to my face. Hopefully, Shakir doesn't notice my complexion change. I try thinking about something else such as those little boys who are still conversing and laughing with their mom.

The waitress comes and asks if we need anything else, I say, "No, but can I do something for that mom and her two sons over there? Can I pay for their meal?"

As an NFL player I have plenty of money to support myself, and I spend money home to my mom, and to my siblings. However, when I was younger, sometimes things were tough for my mom as a single mom, and she could've used the help. Maybe she wasn't a single mom. Maybe their father was busy at work, but regardless, I want to help her in some way.

She gasps, "Oh My! That is so generous."

We quickly leave the restaurant so she doesn't try to pay us back.

We get into the Cybertruck, and Shakir turns to me and says, "Why did you pay for their meal?"

"I don't know, they reminded me of my family, and something compelled me to pay for their meal."

He drives me back to my house. I hop out of the truck, and wave goodbye.

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Later that night, I am lying in bed playing block blast, when a text from an unknown number appears across the top of my screen.

It reads, "Did you see the news?"

I respond, "Who is this?"

They respond, "Shakir, duh."

I text back, "Oh my bad, you scared me for a sec, but no what's up."

The three dots signaling he is typing appears, and then disappears, and then appears again.

I am getting anxious as to what the news could be about...

His text reads, "Paparazzi saw us out together today."

"Is that a bad thing?" I respond back with.

"No... just wanted to let you know."

"Oh okay, thanks for letting me know. Want to hang out this weekend?"

The appearance and disappearance of the typing dots repeats a few times, and finally after what feel like an hour, he writes, "Yeah, sure"

——————————

We hang out a few more times, and our friendship is progressing. I like spending time with Shakir.

He is funny, and really sweet. He has started carrying both our cards when he hangs out, so if we encounter more fans, we have something to give them. He loves his fans so much, it is sweet. He is more popular than me, so people recognize him first, but are equally surprised to see us hanging out together, which is odd because every media station is talking about our friendship.

Currently, I am hanging out with Shakir. We are watching some clips from other teams. He perks up with a sense of realization.

He says, "I forgot to get my mail today."

He leaves to get his mail. He comes back looking awfully confused.

He hands me an envelope. The envelope is marked with, "Khalil Shakir & James Cook".

"What is this?", I say.

"I don't know."

I hand it back to him, and say, "Well open it..."

He opens it... "It is an invite to a party."

"For the both of us?" Hmm. That is weird...