Transportation being number one, and panic attacks number two, and the list could go on for days. He sensed my feet steadying themselves, and whispered, “It’s just pizza.” It’s become our code meaning everything will work out.
Sitting in that stadium with Lincoln is the closest I’ve ever felt to being a normal person. There weren’t any fears, scars, or memories haunting my every thought or action as I let Lincoln kiss me that night. I never doubted him when he told me I was even more beautiful in the stadium lighting. I soaked up every word he spoke to me, and even learned a shit-ton about the game. I think I fell as much in love with the stadium as Lincoln is, and a piece of my heart fell for him under the bright lights.
“I love you, Lincoln Wilks,” I breathe into my pillow, wondering if I’ll ever be brave enough to speak those words to his face.
Then I send a silent prayer hoping to find the courage one day.
***
Only three more hours here, then a thirty-minute wait for Lincoln to pick me up. I’ll admit I’m not thrilled about where we’re going, but damn fucking jacked to be with him. The day can’t possibly move any slower, and I’ve been realizing this fact as August draws nearer. The days, afternoons, and evenings drag ass, but when the night hits, time flies by.
“Hey, girl, hey,” Jenni sings.
She’s been visiting me more and more in the coffee shop. Her chatter is helpful in easing the pain of time. She quickly picked up on my attitude and the very hot customer who’d drop by every once in a while. Yes, it just so happened every time she was there, and I do mean every time, Lincoln showed up.
It took about three visits before I figured out he hated coffee, which made it very obvious why he was stopping by.
“Hi, Jenni.”
She caught me doodling in my notebook since business was dead and all my cleaning was finished.
She angles her head, trying to see what I’m doing. “What are you drawing?”
“Just doodles.” Holding up the notepad I show her the sketch I’ve been working on.
“That looks like the stadium.”
“Ha. It is. Just messing around.”
“It’s very good.”
“Thanks. What are you up to?”
“Just chillaxing before the big party tonight. I got invited by some old friends.”
Do I tell her I’m going to the same party and hopefully avoid her inevitable freak out when she sees me there? Trying to sound casual, I go for it. “Lincoln is taking me there too.”
“Are you shitting me? Holy shit! You have to be shitting me right now. You’re going to the ‘Back to School Bash’ with a football player. Hold the phone, bitches, not just any football player, but the Lincoln Wilks.”
“Yeah, he’s been begging, and I finally gave in.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she screeches. “I mean my God, you don’t pass up opportunities like this. I don’t care if you were a blind mute, you’d still jump on shit like this.”
“Is shit the word of the day, and I missed the public service announcement?”
“I’m still in shock. Here I’m freaking out over not having shit to wear, and you’re going with Lincoln. I suck shit. End of story.”
And this is what I’ve grown to love about Jenni. You can point something out straight to her face, and she’ll still go on doing what she wants. Clearly, today it’s the overuse of the word shit.
“What am I going to wear?” I wonder out loud.
She gives me an assessing once-over. “Well, what do you want to portray? You have several options. The slut who won Lincoln, the nice girl who won Lincoln, or just the girl with Lincoln.”
“Definitely the last choice. Nothing too obvious. I want to blend in and just hang on his arm and get the fuck out of there.”
“Well, I agree with most of that. I’d want to get out of there, too, and have that man candy in my bed, but I’d be shining with glitter, and you could bet your sweet ass on that.”
“What do most girls wear to this
Sitting in that stadium with Lincoln is the closest I’ve ever felt to being a normal person. There weren’t any fears, scars, or memories haunting my every thought or action as I let Lincoln kiss me that night. I never doubted him when he told me I was even more beautiful in the stadium lighting. I soaked up every word he spoke to me, and even learned a shit-ton about the game. I think I fell as much in love with the stadium as Lincoln is, and a piece of my heart fell for him under the bright lights.
“I love you, Lincoln Wilks,” I breathe into my pillow, wondering if I’ll ever be brave enough to speak those words to his face.
Then I send a silent prayer hoping to find the courage one day.
***
Only three more hours here, then a thirty-minute wait for Lincoln to pick me up. I’ll admit I’m not thrilled about where we’re going, but damn fucking jacked to be with him. The day can’t possibly move any slower, and I’ve been realizing this fact as August draws nearer. The days, afternoons, and evenings drag ass, but when the night hits, time flies by.
“Hey, girl, hey,” Jenni sings.
She’s been visiting me more and more in the coffee shop. Her chatter is helpful in easing the pain of time. She quickly picked up on my attitude and the very hot customer who’d drop by every once in a while. Yes, it just so happened every time she was there, and I do mean every time, Lincoln showed up.
It took about three visits before I figured out he hated coffee, which made it very obvious why he was stopping by.
“Hi, Jenni.”
She caught me doodling in my notebook since business was dead and all my cleaning was finished.
She angles her head, trying to see what I’m doing. “What are you drawing?”
“Just doodles.” Holding up the notepad I show her the sketch I’ve been working on.
“That looks like the stadium.”
“Ha. It is. Just messing around.”
“It’s very good.”
“Thanks. What are you up to?”
“Just chillaxing before the big party tonight. I got invited by some old friends.”
Do I tell her I’m going to the same party and hopefully avoid her inevitable freak out when she sees me there? Trying to sound casual, I go for it. “Lincoln is taking me there too.”
“Are you shitting me? Holy shit! You have to be shitting me right now. You’re going to the ‘Back to School Bash’ with a football player. Hold the phone, bitches, not just any football player, but the Lincoln Wilks.”
“Yeah, he’s been begging, and I finally gave in.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she screeches. “I mean my God, you don’t pass up opportunities like this. I don’t care if you were a blind mute, you’d still jump on shit like this.”
“Is shit the word of the day, and I missed the public service announcement?”
“I’m still in shock. Here I’m freaking out over not having shit to wear, and you’re going with Lincoln. I suck shit. End of story.”
And this is what I’ve grown to love about Jenni. You can point something out straight to her face, and she’ll still go on doing what she wants. Clearly, today it’s the overuse of the word shit.
“What am I going to wear?” I wonder out loud.
She gives me an assessing once-over. “Well, what do you want to portray? You have several options. The slut who won Lincoln, the nice girl who won Lincoln, or just the girl with Lincoln.”
“Definitely the last choice. Nothing too obvious. I want to blend in and just hang on his arm and get the fuck out of there.”
“Well, I agree with most of that. I’d want to get out of there, too, and have that man candy in my bed, but I’d be shining with glitter, and you could bet your sweet ass on that.”
“What do most girls wear to this
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