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“What occasion?” He glanced at my ring finger. “I don’t see anything worthy of celebrating.”
“Leave, Kyle.” I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. “Please.”
“Is there a problem over here?” Graham stepped onto our side of the landing.
“No.” I stepped back. “Kyle was just dropping by to say hello. Now, he’s leaving.”
“Congratulations on all of your success with the Falcons.” Graham slipped his arm around my waist, and Kyle’s face reddened. “Will you be joining us for the fireworks? I spent over ten thousand to create a special show for my future wife.”
“No.” Kyle shook his head. “Like Courtney said, I was just dropping by to say hello, to see if she remembered a few things.”
He moved past us, and I watched as a few of my colleagues asked him for autographs and selfies.
To my surprise, he put on his best showman smile and obliged. Then he left—dragging the pieces of my heart that he still owned right behind him.
I spent the rest of the party in a dizzy haze, and by the time Graham’s glitzy fireworks lit up the night sky—when the colors flashed my alma mater’s trademark blue and gold—all I could see were college memories.
The college memories I’d made with Kyle.
As much as I wanted to deny it, I remembered everything.
Every fucking thing …
Courtney: Then
Senior Year
Pittsburgh
I wasn’t sure who designed the University of Pittsburgh’s campus, but I was willing to bet that part of the notes said, “Make it damn near impossible for them to get anywhere in less than ten minutes.”
A typical route from my dorm to the student union called for a ride on the campus shuttle, a transfer via city bus, and a half-block’s walk through an assortment of black, marble panther statues.
It’s as if, the school officials added, “Never let them forget what our mascot is,” at the bottom of the campus’s initial blueprint.
As a freshman, I’d reveled in the fact that our campus was more like a mini-city with local businesses, hospitals, and an array of restaurants wherever there wasn’t a dorm, campus eatery, or a lecture hall.
But after becoming a senior with an off-campus dating life and a never-ending events calendar? I’d broken five Fitbit watches from the constant rushing around.
Clutching a leather bag against my chest, I hopped off the 61D bus and trekked my way up the hill that led to the Peterson Events Center.
Since today was the day of our school’s annual Student Activities Fair, the fluffy panther mascot was dancing on the grass and performing cartwheels for tons of onlookers.
Bypassing the crowd, I made my way into the cheerleading team’s facility and took several deep breaths.
“Good morning, Miss Johnson!” The security guard tipped his hat to me. “Ready to cheer on our boys for another winning season?”
Nope. Last year was officially my limit.
“We’ll see!” I swiped my card and pushed the doors open.
A few of my teammates were stretching along the mirrored wall, getting ready for tonight’s event.
It never ceased to amaze me how I’d spent hundreds of hours with them over the years, and they never said a single word to me outside of practice.
They made it a point to hang out with each other as a group and never tell me, so I held back my typical, “Hopefully, this year we’ll hang out some?”
I was over them.
Walking right past their session, I smoothed my pants and headed right into Coach Tina’s office.
As usual, she was dancing around with her headphones on, as if no one was watching.
Dressed in a revealing pink tank top that showed off her double D breasts—along with leggings that revealed “the new butt [my] husband bought,” she kept her back turned as she rehearsed what looked like stripper choreography.
I waited for her to complete a few more twerks against the wall before gently tapping my hand against her desk.
“Huh? What?” She immediately stopped and turned around.
“Well, well, well. It’s about time that you showed up for check-in, Courtney.” She took off her headphones. “Do you need the seamstress to make any post-summer adjustments to your uniform tonight?”
“No, ma’am,” I said. “I’m not here for check-in. I came here to tell you that I won’t be cheering at all this season.” I pulled the uniforms out of my bag and placed them on her desk. “I was named editor-in-chief of The Pitt News this morning, so …”
“So, what?”
“So, since Journalism is my major and my ultimate dream in life, I think it makes more sense for me to devote my time on that instead of cheerleading this year.”
She placed a hand against her chest, looking as if I’d wounded her somehow.
Expecting that, I mentally rewound the speech I’d wanted to give since my freshman year.
“It’s been a honor learning under you, serving as a support system for the basketball, soccer, and football teams while they hit major milestones, and—” I paused before I could lie and say, “making new friends.”
