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I really would like to go with you to your formal. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out. If you hadn’t bolted I could have told you that Saturday night.
I read his note twice and before I can overthink it I jot down my response to him.
I’m sorry you felt that I bolted. Maybe next time it’ll work out.I draw a smiley face just to push the point home that there’s no hard feelings. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize that I’m not mad but embarrassed. I don’t put myself out there and in the times that I had it worked out. I should have known better, but it’s not his fault my friends and I came up with a crazy idea to get me a date.
I slide the note back to him and watch as he reads it. I expect him to flash me his perfect, dimple smile but instead he nods and pushes the note into his book. We spend the rest of the lesson insilence and at the end when I stand up to leave he’s already darting out the door before I can even wave a friendly goodbye. I tell myself againIt’s not you, it’s himdetermined not to let this derail my day.
Four days later
It may be the off season for twirling but we still have to do strength and conditioning. The six of us get together at least twice a week to workout, do some off-season practice and once our coach leaves we all usually end up telling each other the gossip we’ve heard about tryouts, people we know and what we think next season will be like. Our coach is amazing but is worse than the drill sergeant fromFull Metal Jacket. When she wants something done and done right she expects us to do it. We are constantly reminded that we perform at a high level and that there’s twenty girls behind each one of us that would gladly take our place.
Unfortunately, today isn’t just one of our off-season practices. Today we are in full performance mode for the annual school colors game. That means we are in full uniform, make up done and hair teased to perfection in a high pony that honestly isn’t any of our real hair. Our real hair is hidden underneath it. This is an exhibition performance that we do during halftime. While this isn’t a regular season football game, it is a time for the school to feature new players, showcase returning favorites, and get everyone—including donors—excited about the fall season that will follow. For us, it’s not much different because we show off our skills for the same reasons. I take a swig of my water and lightly touch my face. For a spring game, it’s hot out here on the astroturf. I have the urge to run the back of my hand across my forehead, but Istop myself because of the makeup on my face. I remind myself just another hour to go.
The smile on my face never waivers as I stand on the hot turf and tilt my face up to the crowd. Currently we are standing with our backs to the field and facing the student section. During a regular game and even now, I can never make out faces past the first few rows. I’ve given up long ago looking for my friends and family in the stands. I know they’re out there. While we wait for the game to finish up, we stand smiling and clapping along. When the marching band plays songs and when the PA system blasts out a song we immediately jump in a routine. Our purpose is to entertain and that’s exactly what we do.
I hear a timeout called and the music starts. I start to perform our well-choreographed routine when I feel someone push me from behind. This is my third year performing at the collegiate level and there’s only a few people who can come up behind us. I turn and see Andy who’s in full uniform, holding his helmet. I keep the smile on my face but inside I’m now filled with anxiety; his momentary break might be great for him but this is my required time to perform and our coach frowns on any fraternization with the players of any team we perform for so that’s basketball and football.
“I saw you on the sidelines and just wanted to say hi!” Andy yells over the crowd’s cheers and the music. He’s already backing away and going back to the team. I give him one of my genuine half smiles and wave bye then thrust myself back into the routine that’s already halfway over. I can see my coach glaring at me and I do my best to block that out.
The hour comes and goes and the end of the scrimmage game is now complete. I’ve also endured an ass chewing from my coach over Andy saying hello. I’m not too concerned about it becausehonestly, this is my third year and unless my grades slip or my performance levels goes down, I know I won’t get cut from the team. I’ve got my bag slung over my shoulder and I’m making my way out from the field through the stands. Normally, I’d have a lot of after game stuff to do but thankfully not today.
I’m tired, hot and ready to wash the makeup off my face and get out of this Lycra one-piece. I’ve made it halfway out of the stadium and I’m in the tunnel that will lead me out to the parking lot that I’ll cut through and get back to my apartment when I hear someone calling outheybehind me. I ignore it at first because it’s probably some drunk guys wanting to comment on my outfit. When I hear it again, I stop and turn around.
Brad is jogging to catch up to me. He’s wearing a green and white t-shirt that hugs his chest and arms perfectly to show off his physique, dark shorts and ball cap that makes his chiseled jaw appear more prominent than usual. I swear the sunlight hits him at the perfect angle and he looks literally like a Greek god. It’s an incredibly hot day and after being in the heat he looks as if he hadn’t even broken a sweat in the crowd.
I look down at myself wearing green shorts over my twirling uniform, skin glistening from sweat. I, on the other hand, am a hot mess. Standing just a few feet apart, the stark difference between us stands out. “Hey Brad. Enjoy the game today?”
Brad looks over his shoulder back towards the direction of the stadium. He hooks his thumb up and motions behind him. “Yeah. I saw you out there. You were great.”
I almost blush because I love the idea that he watched me out on the field today. “Thanks.”
“What are you doing now? Are you done for the day or do you have more that you have to do with the team?”
I shake my head. “I’m all done. I’m just walking back to myapartment.” I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder, it’s heavy and digging into my skin so I shift it to ease the discomfort. The next thing I see is Brad’s hand reaching out and taking the heavy equipment bag from my shoulder.
“Here let me carry that. Damn, this is heavy.”
His chuckle makes me believe he thought it was light. “Yeah, it can get heavy after a long day.”
“Would you mind if I walk with you?”
I’m caught off guard, but we’ve talked so much online and in texts over the last few months, I shouldn’t be. I only feel weird because of everything that’s recently gone on. “I don’t mind at all. It’s just a few blocks from here.”
“You know where I live. Seems fair that I know where you live, too. Plus, I haven’t heard from you the last few days.”
I know he means the unread messages online that he sent me, but I’ve been avoiding my computer. Honestly, I’ve been avoiding a lot of things lately—which is out of character—but right now I feel out of sorts and that’s been my main way of coping: avoidance. I wince. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Spring practice and then today.”
He brushes off my excuse. “It’s fine. I get it.” We begin to walk in silence. It doesn’t feel awkward or forced. Maybe a little odd since I’ve tried to keep a wall around my heart and feelings around him lately. He clears his throat and breaks the silence first.
“I saw you talking to Andy Whitmore on the field. Do you two know each other?”
“Oh yeah, we’ve been friends for a few years. I hadn’t seen him for awhile and then recently we ran into each other. He joined one of the frats and we had a mixer with them and that’s when we reconnected.”
“Reconnected. That covers all manner of sins. Doesn’t it?”
I laugh awkwardly because I’m not really sure what he’s implying. What I do know is that I’m not going to offer up the fact that I made out with Andy if that’s what he’s thinkingreconnect means. I mean honestly, when we knew each other in high school there wasn’t any kissing. “I guess so.”
I quickly change the subject. “What are you doing with the rest of your day?”
