“Beside that.”
That’s as close as we get to reliving our past, and together we veer the conversation to more current ideas. He tells me that he’s moving out of the frat house next year, it’s just not really his thing. I talk about my schedule and what courses I’ll study in the fall. I breathe a sigh of relief when he tells me he’s still not dating anyone and I look at my hands when I tell him, briefly, about my series of unfortunate first and last dates. I don’t want to see his reaction. I’m not ready for that. Slowly, over several meet-ups like this, we forge a tentative, yet pleasant friendship.
We hang out the most over morning coffee, when he’s damp and fresh from the pool. The chlorine from the indoor pool is severe and even after a shower I can smell it on his skin. Today, I’m running late and he greets me out front with my favorite coffee.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a sip. “The girls had a big Mothers ’ Day surprise for Betsy and I lost track of time.”
“I bet they’ve grown a lot since I saw them last.”
“Haven’t we all,” I muse.
We sit on a bench outside the shop and the spring sunlight makes his hair glow. He cuts it shorter now than at the end of last summer but it still casts him in a halo’s light.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he says, placing his coffee between his knees.
“Sure.”
“I’m in this int ramural soccer tournament this weekend and I wanted to know if you would come.”
“Really?” I’ve always wanted to see him play. I’ve watched him swim competitively but I never got the chance to see him on the soccer field.
“I know you like the game and it should be fun. ”
“Can I bring Finley?”
His eyes light up. “Yeah, sure. So you’ll come?”
“Of course. It sounds awesome. Plus, you know how I feel about soccer players.”
He fr owns. “Actually, I don’t.”
“They’re my second favorite , after swimmers.”
He laughs and grabs me b y the neck, in a playful hug. “You’re crazy, did you know that?”
“I think I’ve heard that somewhere before.”
*
“Oh man.”
“I know.”
“Do you see the calves on that one?”
“No, I can’t take my eyes off that guy’s butt.”
“And his chest.”
“Oh shit.”
“What?”
“His back.”
“Where?”
I point across the field to number seventeen.
“Damn, you can even see the muscles through his shirt—I mean, that’s just not normal.”
“It’s not.”
“No. It’s not. It’s almost like he’s—“
“Genetically superior,” Finley and I say at the same time.
We’ve come full circle, except this time we’re sitting on the top row of a set of bleachers, fully clothed and ogling a soccer field instead of the swimming pool. It is hot though, and the sun beats down hard enough that we’ve pulled out our trusty sunglasses and I’ve stripped down to a tank top.
“He’s pretty amazing,” I say, watching him run up an d down the field. I knew he would be good, he’s good at everything, but watching him dominate is like poetry.
“It’s not fair,” Finley points out. “For one person to be so talented.”
“And hot.”
“And hot, right,” she agrees.
It’s an intense match . The guys are brutal with one another, forcing the ref to stop the game more than once. Carter takes more than one spill. From the stands I can see the blood dripping from his knee. It doesn’t stop him—nothing does. He’s all physical and I realize this is why it’s hard to just be friends with him. His body and mind work together.
It’s hard, but we’ve made it happen.
From his position at forward, I get the chance to see him race down the field, top speed. He scores twice, pumping his fist and checking for me in the stands. I wave to let him know I saw. And a couple of girls around me look in my direction.
I’m not used to the attention of being associated with him, so I just keep my eyes on the field.
The guys are fun and less obnoxious than I
That’s as close as we get to reliving our past, and together we veer the conversation to more current ideas. He tells me that he’s moving out of the frat house next year, it’s just not really his thing. I talk about my schedule and what courses I’ll study in the fall. I breathe a sigh of relief when he tells me he’s still not dating anyone and I look at my hands when I tell him, briefly, about my series of unfortunate first and last dates. I don’t want to see his reaction. I’m not ready for that. Slowly, over several meet-ups like this, we forge a tentative, yet pleasant friendship.
We hang out the most over morning coffee, when he’s damp and fresh from the pool. The chlorine from the indoor pool is severe and even after a shower I can smell it on his skin. Today, I’m running late and he greets me out front with my favorite coffee.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a sip. “The girls had a big Mothers ’ Day surprise for Betsy and I lost track of time.”
“I bet they’ve grown a lot since I saw them last.”
“Haven’t we all,” I muse.
We sit on a bench outside the shop and the spring sunlight makes his hair glow. He cuts it shorter now than at the end of last summer but it still casts him in a halo’s light.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he says, placing his coffee between his knees.
“Sure.”
“I’m in this int ramural soccer tournament this weekend and I wanted to know if you would come.”
“Really?” I’ve always wanted to see him play. I’ve watched him swim competitively but I never got the chance to see him on the soccer field.
“I know you like the game and it should be fun. ”
“Can I bring Finley?”
His eyes light up. “Yeah, sure. So you’ll come?”
“Of course. It sounds awesome. Plus, you know how I feel about soccer players.”
He fr owns. “Actually, I don’t.”
“They’re my second favorite , after swimmers.”
He laughs and grabs me b y the neck, in a playful hug. “You’re crazy, did you know that?”
“I think I’ve heard that somewhere before.”
*
“Oh man.”
“I know.”
“Do you see the calves on that one?”
“No, I can’t take my eyes off that guy’s butt.”
“And his chest.”
“Oh shit.”
“What?”
“His back.”
“Where?”
I point across the field to number seventeen.
“Damn, you can even see the muscles through his shirt—I mean, that’s just not normal.”
“It’s not.”
“No. It’s not. It’s almost like he’s—“
“Genetically superior,” Finley and I say at the same time.
We’ve come full circle, except this time we’re sitting on the top row of a set of bleachers, fully clothed and ogling a soccer field instead of the swimming pool. It is hot though, and the sun beats down hard enough that we’ve pulled out our trusty sunglasses and I’ve stripped down to a tank top.
“He’s pretty amazing,” I say, watching him run up an d down the field. I knew he would be good, he’s good at everything, but watching him dominate is like poetry.
“It’s not fair,” Finley points out. “For one person to be so talented.”
“And hot.”
“And hot, right,” she agrees.
It’s an intense match . The guys are brutal with one another, forcing the ref to stop the game more than once. Carter takes more than one spill. From the stands I can see the blood dripping from his knee. It doesn’t stop him—nothing does. He’s all physical and I realize this is why it’s hard to just be friends with him. His body and mind work together.
It’s hard, but we’ve made it happen.
From his position at forward, I get the chance to see him race down the field, top speed. He scores twice, pumping his fist and checking for me in the stands. I wave to let him know I saw. And a couple of girls around me look in my direction.
I’m not used to the attention of being associated with him, so I just keep my eyes on the field.
The guys are fun and less obnoxious than I
Similar Books
