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What on earth had I agreed to?
A couple of thoughts — I didn’t know why I made our training so early. It was as if I momentarily forgot that that meant I too would have to get up at the asscrack of dawn. Okay, not the asscrack. Seven in the morning isn’t a bad rising hour — well, provided you went to bed at around eleven. I wasn’t in bed ‘til past two, and even then, I laid awake thinking of you-know-who. Then, she’d been soused last night, that much I knew to be true. Would she remember agreeing to this session, or would I be stuck alone in a forest, looking like a dope? Finally, let’s say she remembered it. What then? Last night, the tension between us had felt electric, as though were in perfect sync, the sparks between us passing with jolting rapidity. Did that make sense? It was hard to explain, to an outside observer, what it feels like to fall head over heels for someone else.
There were other questions, so very many other questions, each more inane than the last — but I won’t bore you with them. If they bored me, which they did, they will inevitably bore you.
I left myself enough time upon rising to go and fetch two coffees. We’d both need them after last night. And besides, I didn’t want this entire experience to be so miserable for her, even though her head would undoubtedly be pounding. I was hoping that… that she’d enjoy spending the morning with me. Coffee makes everything more enjoyable.
With two cups in hand, acquired from a quaint campus coffee shop, I made my way to the forest. The training hadn’t even begun, and my heart was already pounding. Would this forest be as magic the second time around?
I picked through the fallen brambles, around a couple of old oaks, and before long, I was in the spot. Our spot. She hadn’t arrived yet, which was fair. It was only ten minutes to eight. Still ten minutes left before I would start wondering if she was a no-show.
Sipping on my coffee, I took a seat on a nearby boulder. I realized that her drink might go cold, so I nestled it close to my chest, willing it to stay piping hot. It was, in fact, quite chilly outside, and I worried that she’d be cold without a warm drink.
I didn’t have to consider this for long — she showed up only moments later.
“You’re early,” I commented.
Catya replied, “So are you.”
She was adorably disheveled. She was wearing what I guessed might be her PJs, with sneakers thrown on to give it a vaguely athletic look. Her hair was in a messy top knot, and she wore no makeup. Somehow, all this served only to make her hotter. Was that the definition of love, thinking someone looks better, the less work they do? Or was that only in One Direction songs?
“I brought you coffee,” I said, and proffered the cup.
Catya remarked, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Hey, I made you get up this early to train. Figured it was the least I could do for your hangover.”
She shrugged, and replied, “I’m young, I don’t have a hangover.”
I stared, jealous to my bone. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head.
Not that I needed that reminder of her being young. I couldn’t even remember an age where I hadn’t felt hangovers the next day. It was painful, but this was exactly the kind of brutal kick I needed to recall that she was only twenty-one. You can’t fuck a twenty-one-year old, I instructed myself.
“Well, bully for you,” I replied.
She sipped her drink, then asked, “So what are we starting with?”
“No rush, finish your drink first.”
Catya smiled, grateful, and took a seat on the boulder I’d just been sitting on. She saw me standing, then scooted over a bit to her right, and patted the area next to her.
“I’m fine,” I returned, not wanting to get too close, as though even proximity would unleash my inner animal.
“All right,” she said with a roll of her eyes, and I regretted not taking the seat.
I leaned up against a nearby tree in lieu of the seat. It was a weak second.
For the next few minutes, we made pleasant chit chat about the upcoming season, the team’s prospects, some of our favorite major league players. The usual stuff. I think we both sensed that it was filler, but that was okay. Being around her, in uncharged contexts, was nice, too.
At some point, I shifted the conversation, curious to know more about her background. We kept getting so close to one another, but it occurred to me that I knew little to nothing about her. Maybe that was because the undercurrent between us was so strong that I’d forget to check the surface.
