I’m writing about me and my guys. About how we show up for each other, even when the world is a mess. About what it means to choose each other, over and over, even when things aren’t perfect. Especially when they aren’t.
By the time I finish, my chest feels a little lighter. I read through the speech once more, tweak a few lines, and save the document.
It’s not perfect. But it’s good enough.
Chapter 25
Jacob
As far as first days go, this hasn’t been a horrible one. I only have three classes today and the last one’s with my girl; Calculus. I groan at the thought of math, but having her by my side as my own personal tutor will be worth it. Maybe we can even act out that scene from that Adam Sandler movie my mom likes to watch, where his girlfriend strips if he gets answers right. All I need is for this English class to be done with.
“Hey,” a deep voice whispers from beside me as the teacher rambles on about the syllabus and what’s expected.
“Yeah,” I answer in a hushed tone, not even bothering to look in the direction of the person trying to start up a conversation.
“You’re Jacob Stoll, right?”
“I am. Why?” I’m not going to let my head get so big that someone knows who I am. Did they go to school in my area, or did we play against theirs?
“I’m Henry, captain of the lacrosse team. I saw all the new players' names on the roster, just didn't expect to have one in my class.”
“Cool, nice to meet you. I can’t wait until practice. It's been my dream to play here.” For the first time, I look over at him. He’s sitting hunched in his seat, his legs extended on either side of the chair in front of him, and shaggy hair hanging in his face. I laugh a little on the inside, knowing Coach Blue would’ve had a meltdown about his hair.
“How did you know who I was?” Curiosity gets the better of me. Does this roster have our pictures on it? Might make their meeting Dylan go easier. I know how some guys can be about a girl on the team.
“Saw Coach watching some footage of you playing at the end of last year. Your face stuck out. I know we have five new players this year. Just wanted to say hi and welcome you to the team.”
“Sweet. Nice to meet you. Always good knowing your captain.” I go to direct my attention back to the instructor, but he leans back over his seat and taps my arm.
“Hey, a bunch of the team is meeting at the lacrosse house for lunch. Join us? It’s a good opportunity to meet more of the guys before practice.”
My spidey sense starts to tingle off the chart; they don’t know that Dylan Murphy is female. The first practice is going to be interesting. A smug grin wants to spread across my face, but I contain it. It’s going to be fun watching my girl school these men.
“I can’t. I’m having lunch with my best friend and my girlfriend. Another time?”
“Sure thing, man.” He gives me a nod, then sits back in his seat, picking up his pen and scribbling something on his paper.
I turn my focus back to the professor, who’s droning on. His monotone tone is going to kill me this semester. It’s only day one, and it’s already sucking the life out of me. Picking upmy highlighter, I make sure to notate the exams and project due dates. I don’t want to miss anything that would put my scholarship or place on the team in jeopardy.
Before I know it, class is over.
“See you on the field!” Henry reaches out, giving me a fist bump before slipping his bag over his shoulder and heading to the door, where not one but two blondes are waiting for him.
I take my time, opening my bag and placing my papers inside. I’ll get everything organized tonight. Right now, I have a date with my girl for lunch. I’ll just deal with the fact that Matthew and Ford will be there, too. We decided to eat in the student union. We debated keeping our relationship a secret for a while, at least until we acclimated to college life, but Dylan was firmly against it. Her words, “Best the pansies know we’re a thing, especially all the skank stick bunnies.” Matthew got a good laugh out of that.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, barely containing the laugh that erupts from me. In the group chat for the four of us is a picture of Ford and Dylan sitting at a table in the food court, each holding a popsicle stick with a picture of Matthew and myself on them.
Dylan: We’re starving. What’s taking the two of you so long?
Me: Class just got out. On the way.
Matthew: Just outside the door. Are we sure we’re ready to go public?
Ford: More than you know Matty boy.
It takes me about ten minutes to walk from the English building to the student union. When I step inside, they’re all huddled around the table, food sitting on it just waiting for me to arrive.
I weave my way through the tables, already tasting my girl's lips on mine, craving the real thing. My focus is on her, and only her. She’s seated between Matthew and Ford, but stands, placing her hands on the table, leaning over as I crush my mouth against hers.
