Probably just my Chucks
I imagine her favorite pair of black Chuck Taylors to the outfit.Perfect. You look great!
She sends a thumbs-up emoji, and I put down my phone to turn back to studying. Except I can’t seem to focus. School has been fine. My classes are challenging but engaging, and field hockey has been a dream. All in all, Penn has been everything I hoped for and more.
Penn isn’t the problem. It’s everything else. It’s Tyler and the long distance and the inevitable sinking feeling that we won’t make it out ofour first semester as a couple. It’s Chloe being all the way in southwest Virginia and not showing up with snacks and one of her quizzes when one of us is feeling a little stressed. It’s the way my thoughts seem to cling to things like Alex’s left dimple or her biceps or her new stomach muscles. It’s the little bit of jealousy I feel whenever she posts pictures of herself with a pretty girl that she never tells me about.
All of it’s become so heavy that I find it hard to focus on things like calculus or perfecting my push passes. I stare at the half-finished math problem in front of me, wondering if I’m even capable of acing my upcoming exam.
I groan and toss my pencil on the table in mild defeat.
“Wharton business?”
I’m startled by the quiet voice behind me. I quickly spin to see a girl watching me with an amused expression. “I’m sorry?”
She motions to the open book in front of me. “Math 1400, Calculus. Lemat?”
My heart rate settles, and I return her smile. “Zhao, actually.”
“Oof,” she says and winces. “I hear she’s hard. Ace her class, and I’m sure you’ll have no problem transferring in.” The girl extends her hand. “I’m Emily.”
“Julia.”
“You play field hockey, right?” My expression must reflect either confusion or surprise because she chuckles. “I’ve been to a few games. My roommate is an assistant to your physician. Amelia?”
I know Amelia, she’s a couple years older. Quiet but kind. “It’s cool you come to the games to support her.”
She gives me a quizzical look and shakes her head. “That’s not why I go. I mean it is, but…”
It takes me a minute and the slow rise of her eyebrow for me to understand what she’s not directly saying. And it takes another beat and her wandering gaze toreallyget her implication. Once it all clicks into place, I can feel the warmth spread across my face. “Oh, well, that’s…thanks.”
She chuckles again and nods toward my book. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
There’s a lip bite and one more lingering look, and she starts to walk away. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” I call out, causing a lot ofirritated glares my way. I mouth “Sorry” and sheepishly sink in my chair.
Emily stops and heads back over. She leans in a bit and lowers her voice. “Actually, there’s a party tonight. If you’re interested.”
She’s so close, I can smell her spearmint gum. She stares at me, never breaking eye contact while she waits for a response. Her eyes are dark but not as dark as her hair, and she’s somehow even prettier up close.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, unable to tell her no. “That sounds like fun.”
Her smile lights up the room, and my stomach does a little flip thing, and it completely throws me for a loop. She hands me her phone. “Put your number in, and I’ll text you the address.” It’s not the first time I’ve given someone my number, and it’s clear she’s interested. I’m not available, at least not in the romantic sense, but I give it to her anyway.
When I hand her phone back, she texts me the address, then slips her phone into her back pocket and offers a wink. “Hope to see you there.”
She walks away, and I sit there staring long after she’s disappeared. Nothing’s going to happen, I’m probably not even going to go, but there’s something about the idea that she likes me, the thrill of having her attention, that surprisingly excites me.
The chill in the air seems weird, especially for September. The high of the win against Brown is dampened by a strange feeling that’s been sitting in the pit of my stomach all day. One I can pinpoint, starting when I didn’t receive a good-luck text from Alex first thing this morning.
It’s selfish, expecting Alex to watch all my games. Except, until today, she’s never missed one. Not even when she was studying in France and the time difference kept her awake deep into the morning. Or the time she was bedridden with walking pneumonia when we were sixteen. But it’s Friday night, and she’s in New York, and the opportunity to go out far exceeds staying in and watching a grainy college live feed. She was bound to miss one sooner or later. I just didn’t think it would rattle me this much.
We shake hands with the other team, then huddle for one more talk from the coach and our captain before hitting the locker room to change. The uneasiness seems to spread when I check my phone and have congrats messages from my parents, Chloe, Tyler, and even Emily. But nothing from Alex.
The disappointment is consuming.
Resisting the urge to ask her if everything is okay, I stick my phone back in my locker and hit the showers, all while trying to convince myself that everything is fine. But the longer I go without hearing from her, the more I think that maybe she’s not out having fun with friends and that something may actually be wrong.
There’s a party on the other side of campus, and a few of my teammates ask if I want to check it out and celebrate the win. Normally, I would, but the high of the victory has dwindled, and I want to get back to my dorm. I grab my stick and duffel and check in with the coach before rushing out.
