He knew what she was doing, and it was sweet. ‘Nice try, but no. For one thing, it’s a Thursday. You don’t play football on Thursdays.’ ‘Rig...t!’ she said, excitedly. ‘I knew that.’ ‘But also,’ he said slowly, walking over and putting his hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s May.’ Her shoulder felt warm. He was close enough to smell her perfume, which brought rushes of memories back. They say smell is the closest sense tied to memory, he thought, visualizing moments from college, in her dorm room. Dad finally announces he was retiring—and us bois could have the next day 'off work'--not like we were likely to go to bed anyway, lol. After another while, Dustin ask if I'd like to see the bunk house. Seems we got 50 ranch hands, and they were for the most part eager to finally meet me. We hop on some 4 wheelers—and ride over to the bunkhouse. It was about a football field distance from the main house. As we walk in, we're met with yet more light applause, and some more beer flowing. I walk. More

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