I nod behind me. “Just follow that road for two minutes, you’re almost there.”
“Well, that’s just plain dumb.”
“Never said you were smart,” I quip, standing up and playfully thumping him on his back. “Now, shoo. I'll text you later to meet up for tomorrow. I still have a run to do.”
He holds up his fist and we pound one out, before he thanks me and takes off, setting a good pace with his long legs. I watch him go, mighty curious how tomorrow will unfold.
“Hey, Samantha. Where’s she at?” I ask when one of Kaylees sorority sisters lets me into their house on Greek row that evening. On Friday nights, I usually hang out with my girlfriend. But since she hasn't been great at responding to my texts this week–which is something we need to talk about–I decided to drop by.
“Hi, King. Kaylee’s up in her room, I think.”
I thank her and quickly ascend up the grand staircase of the large house. Not that I don’t want to see Kaylee, but it’s not my favorite thing to come here. Because there’s just too much fucking pink shit and girly stuff everywhere. Also, the overpowering sweet scent, like you’re walking into the perfume store in your local mall, makes me gag.
And don't even get me started on the constant giggling that seems to follow me around.
Passing by some of Kaylee's younger sorority sisters, I give them a nod as a greeting. When the aforementioned giggling starts, I sprint up the final stairs, taking them two steps at a time, and knock on Kaylee's door frame before barging in, making my great escape.
Of course she doesn’t even look up when I plant a kiss on the top of her head. She holds up one finger, engrossed in a textbook on her desk, her blonde hair cascading around her face.
As the president of her sorority this year, she has the biggest room, complete with its own bathroom and everything. So I place the take-out I brought–sushi, her favorite–on the tiny table and sit my ass down on the plush couch behind it, assembling our dinner.
“Are you almost done?” I inquire after unpacking the food. I pull my SSU Tigers hoodie over my head and throw it over the back of the couch.
“Yeah, sorry. I wanted to make a headstart on this paper,” she replies, closing the book and making her way over to me. She retrieves a couple of plates out of one of her drawers, sits down and pecks my cheek with a quick kiss, leaving behind a sticky gloss residue. “It's not due until the end of the semester, but it's a difficult one, and it's two-thirds of your grade.”
That's my girl. I smile at her and wipe my cheek clean with the back of my sleeve as she starts piling sushi onto the plates. She'scrazy smart and plans to attend law school after obtaining her degree. But she's a senior, and I don't really want to think about what we're going to do next year, since I still have one year to go after this one. Having an older girlfriend seemed awesome when I started freshman year, but now it's becoming a bit complicated.
She wants me to declare for the draft after this season, but I’m not entirely sure about that. Sure, I could–and probably would–receive a few offers for the NFL, but my head coach agrees that it would be better to finish college, to gain more experience with additional games under my belt. He believes I still have room for improvement, despite how much progress I've made in the past two years. And if I improve, the offers will be even better.
Either way, I still want to earn my degree. Anything can happen. If I were to get hit by a bus or something equally shitty, I might never play again. So, yeah, I’m trying to be smart about it, even though the paycheck that comes with a contract would be nice too.
“You want the avocado ones too?” Kaylee interrupts my thoughts.
I scrunch up my nose. “How many times do I have to tell you that I hate avocados? They're so mushy and slimy.”
“Yeah, but they’re very healthy. A superfood,” she remarks, popping a piece into her mouth and playfully poking my side with a chopstick as she swallows. “It’s good for you, muscle man.”
“Superfood my ass.” I swat her hand away and wave at the food. “These bites are too tiny. I need to eat all of this just to get half my calorie intake. Training was brutal and longer than usual. We just finished half an hour ago.”
“And you came straight here after? That's sweet,” Kaylee says, handing me a plate piled three times higher than hers with the fishy stuff. At least she got the portion right. Pulling her legs upon the couch, she sits sideways, giving me a smile and placing a couple of chopsticks on my lap.
“I can be sweet,” I remark before stuffing three pieces into my mouth with my fingers, disregarding the chopsticks. Never figured out how that shit works, I just don’t get how people can make eating with the damn things look so easy.
“You’re always sweet,” she mumbles, and I raise an eyebrow in question, swallowing down more of my food.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” She smiles again and points at me with her chopstick, a piece of maki skewered on the end. “But what are we going to do tonight? Some of the girls want to go to Yetties. Encore is playing again.”
I sigh. Of course she wants to go out, she always does. “Can’t we stay in, watch that show that you love? I’ve barely seen you all summer or this week.” We've both been busy, but it would be nice to spend some quality time together. To just hang out, cuddle up, and talk about last summer. I still have no clue what she did half the time, considering how little we've spoken. Yeah, she visited for a weekend in the beginning of summer, and I went to her dad's place for a bit as usual, but after that, my training took over and our daily phone calls dwindled. Not that it’s entirely her fault, I know I'm partly to blame.
But it's not like she's been putting in much effort to keep in touch either.
“You stayed over last weekend,” she finally replies after swallowing her food.
“We went to Yetties then too.”
“Yeah, we had to do something to celebrate your birthday right?” She gives me that stupid sweet smile again, the one that secretly says ‘shut your mouth, Ty. I’m always right.’
