I can’t let the weight of my mother’s expectations drag me down forever, and I definitely can’t let the noose her God has tied around my neck hold me back from what I really want.
I’m dragging ass when I wake up for class. Sometimes it feels like college is for nothing. I don’t have major aspirations for myself. Not like Ben. Hell, when I found out his major, I felt wholly inadequate. I don’t even know what I want to do with my life.
I try to go easy on myself because there’s really no reason not to. Living under my mother’s rule and not being able to be my own person affected my ability to have myownwants and needs.
It doesn’t matter that I’m twenty now. It’s time to figure out what I want and need formyself.No matter what that may look like.
When I throw on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt along with a football hoodie, I make my way into the living room. Roger’s sitting on our shared couch, looking as bleary-eyed as I imagine I do, but thankfully, he did clean up his mess.
When he notices me, he looks up. “Hey, man. Sorry about the mess.”
I shake my head because, really, there’s nothing to be done. He is who he is. “Thanks, dude. I appreciate it.”
He blinks at me before turning his head and looking back at the blank TV. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was high or something, and I guess maybe he could be.
Doesn’t really matter to me either way. I sit down on the end opposite him, then pull my shoes on.
“When does the season start?” Roger asks, glancing at me.
“Uh, the first game’s in three weeks.”
Roger, for all his faults, is normally quiet and self-contained, so I’m not at all surprised when he doesn’t say anything else, instead choosing to turn back to the TV.
Patting my thighs, I push to my feet, checking my pockets to make sure I have all my things. Phone, dorm key, wallet. I give Roger a wave that he half-ass returns, and leave.
I didn’t give myself as much time to get to class as I really wanted, so I’m running a few minutes behind as I round the corner to the coffee shop. Being a few minutes late is going to be infinitely better than falling asleep halfway through class, though.
I push open the door in a rush, hoping the line is short, and run smack into someone. “Damn, I’m sorr—”
My words cut off when I realize I’ve run right into the same guy from a few days ago. Only this time there are no art supplies, just coffee that’s spilled all over his white… dress. Oh. He’s wearing a dress.
Heat floods my stomach, and I can’t be sure if it’s embarrassment or something else. I don’t even get a chance to dwell on it because he looks down, his eyes widening, and then I’m being pinned to the door with a death glare.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he says, eyes flicking rapidly across my face. “Wait a second. You’re the same person as before. Why thefuckare you always running into me?”
“I wish I had a good answer for that. I’m sorry. Let me get you some napkins or something.”
He lets out a high-pitched, incredulous laugh. “Napkins? You thinknapkinsare gonna get the job done?”
I glance at his soaking wet dress, averting my eyes quickly when I notice the coffee has soaked through and made it translucent, and I can barely make out what looks like a lacy bra-type thing underneath it.
Swallowing hard, I force myself to take a couple of deep breaths. “I really am so sorry.”
We’ve caught the attention of the rest of the people in the coffee shop, and it doesn’t take long for him to notice too. With a huff, he steps past me and storms right out the door.
I stare after him for a second, then chase after him, pulling my hoodie off as I go. “Wait! Hey, hang on.”
He turns around, his icy blue eyes locked on mine as he bares his teeth at me. “What now? You want to run into me again?”
I shake my head, holding my hoodie out to him.
His eyes fall to it, then he looks back up at me. “What’s this for?” There’s something soft in his voice now that wasn’t there before.
Clearing my throat, I thrust it at him, trying to get him to take it. “For you to wear. You’re covered in coffee. Please just take it.”
He reaches out warily, taking the hoodie from my grasp. For a second, I’m half convinced he’s going to throw it back at me, but I’m shocked as hell when his lips curve into a half smile and he pulls it over his head. It’s huge on him, falling almost to the length of his dress.
It ruffles his pale-blond hair, making it mussed and messy, and for some reason I can’t fully explain, I want to reach out and fix it. I take a quick step backward so my hand doesn’t get any stupid ideas, then clear my throat again. “Like I said, I’m really sorry.”
