Cards (and how we play them) - Hartbig

Chapter 4

Even in a small town just north of Denver, high school football a significant part of camaraderie among the community and Friday night games are something of a tradition, but not a simple tradition like pizza every Monday with the family. No, Brighton treats this tradition more like it’s Christmas Eve.

"Tyler, darling?"

"Yes, madam."

"Explain something to me."’

Tyler makes a gesture towards Hannah as if to tell her ‘go on’, not bothering to take his eyes off of the computer screen he sits mere inches away from.

"Why is it that Baywest is called ‘Baywest’? We’re more eastern than western and we live in a landlocked state for God sakes."

"I have written several articles on this very phenomenon, dear Harto. And the only conclusion I’ve come up with is that the townspeople were outta’ they damn minds 40 years ago." Tyler supplies in his signature sass, standing from his desktop and walking over to where the printer is printing the first draft of this month’s news. Hannah chuckles to herself, watching the dirty blonde boy turn and eye her in a way that she had seen only too many times. She shakes her head before either of them have a chance to speak.

"Nothing happened, Ty. Don’t go getting any ideas."

Tyler throws his hands up in frustration, slips of paper threatening to slip from his hands. He stares exasperated at the quarterback, “Hart. Seriously. You go to her house right after practice and spend hours together in the small confined space that is Grace Helbig’s bedroom, on that tiny-ass bed of hers, and you can’t drudge up the ovaries to make a damn move?” He practically shouts, eyes growing wide as the words leave his mouth and surveying around the room to ensure that the remaining few students were too involved in their own work to bother with his elevated rant. 

Hannah can’t help but smile at the boy. Tyler might be the only person in this world that wants her and Grace together more than herself. Upon their first meeting back during Freshman year orientation, Tyler pinpointed Hannah’s feelings within a five minute conversation. 

"It’s not that simple, Tyler. And you know that. Trust me, if this were as simple as ‘get the girl into bed and have your way with her’, I’d have it finished one hundred times over. But it’s not. This is…." She trails off, her breath catching in her throat. She swallows deeply, trying not to concentrate on the sheer weight of Tyler’s gaze, "this is the girl I love." She’s only recently allowed herself the luxury of referring to Grace in that manner, and she will only ever do so in Tyler’s presence. Sawyer is not one to speak of feelings or emotions, he’s not the type, and Hannah continues to hope and pray to the Gods above that Mamrie hasn’t picked up on her feelings yet. 

Tyler looks at her the way he always does when she says the words. It’s the kind of look that you give someone who is desperately in love with someone that they cannot be with, for whatever reason, and have made an awful peace with loving them from afar for the rest of eternity.

"Babe. I can almost guarantee that if you told Grace the truth, she would feel the same way. I mean, the way that girl looks at you!"

Hannah rolls her eyes, grabbing the various papers from Tyler’s grip and striding out of the computer room, “You say that every time.”

"Because it’s true!" He retorts, running after her and falling in stride. "I seriously don’t know how you don’t see it, but she is just as in love with you as you are with her."

"Right, and you know this based off of a look?" 

"It’s in the eyes! We call them the ‘Harto eyes’!" Hannah bursts out laughing at the phrase as the pair head down the back staircase and down the long hallway heading towards the gymnasium.