by Sara Ney
I can’t actually recall. Must be longer than I thought, though I do remember a few parties at the house, friends gathered, horses, the whole bit.
“Sounds fancy,” Kaylee says breathily, sitting on her bed, still hugging Pink Bear then reclining onto the lot of the remaining animals.
A bunny rabbit. Another bear. What looks to be an alligator.
“Do blokes fancy your collection?” I blurt out.
“Fancy my what?”
“Your collection—of animals.”
“I don’t know—I’ve never asked. I guess so?”
Doubt it.
I’m no expert, but there isn’t a single bloke on this planet who would fancy a fuck on top of a stuffed bunny.
Kaylee is absolutely adorable, but I have to get her out of this room—seeing her on top of that pile reminds me of Gertie in the movie ET, and I didn’t appreciate the stuffed animals then either. Creepy.
So unsexual.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s cute and all, but…
“Are you hungry?”
She sets the bear down behind her and stands. “I could eat a bite. And Eliza said you ate a lot, so I should probably feed you, huh?” She gives me a patronizing pat on the arm as she walks past, flipping off the light. I follow her back down the hallway and toward the kitchen where all the food is.
It’s approaching midnight, but I could always stand to eat, and if it’s going to get me out of that bedroom and back into the main living area, distracting her from the fact that she wants to make out with me, all the better.
It doesn’t seem as if Kaylee knows her way around the kitchen any better than I do; it’s a bit awkward watching her open and close cabinet after cabinet, searching. Opens the refrigerator. More cabinets.
She stands in the middle with her hand on her hips, glancing around. Turns toward me.
“What are you hungry for? We have, um, pizza and stuff? Maybe some leftovers from our dinner yesterday?” Her smile is cringey as she takes a plastic container out of the fridge, cracks open the lid, and peers inside. “Or spaghetti? I think this is from a few days ago.” She sniffs it. “Yeah, I think it’s still good.”
Pass.
Hard pass.
Maybe I’m not that hungry after all—I know for a fact I have some meals in my fridge that are better than whatever Kaylee is about to pull out of hers.
Six
Eliza
I cannot keep my eyes off the door.
I kept telling myself this morning as I was on my way to the coffee shop that this visit for breakfast is for no reason other than this is my special spot, and I’m hungry, and this is what I do some weekends.
But.
That would be a lie.
I cannot keep my eyes off that door.
I don’t know why part of me keeps expecting Jack to blow in and surprise me with his presence, to keep me company and make me laugh.
Uninterrupted, I’ve been here for at least an hour, and I’m on my second espresso of the day. Laptop, notebook—all the usual suspects in this booth in the corner of the room, far away from all the bustle of the coffee shop yet right in the thick of it, too. I can see everything from this vantage point, including that door.
No one has bothered me, if you don’t count the server who checks up periodically.
I cannot keep my eyes off that door.
Ugh.
What am I expecting? I don’t even know the guy—we’re not even friends!
Not to mention, as soon as I returned home from my cousin’s baby shower, Kaylee followed me around the house in an excited flurry—the kind you expect from someone with stars in their eyes—a flurry of flirty activity as she stood there in her cute sweatpants regaling me with tales from her weekend.
And Jack.
She can’t stop talking about how she bumped into him at a party. How he walked her home. How he came inside and they talked.
And then he…
Left.
She was disappointed, obviously; Jack is exactly her type and also playing hard to get, which makes him even more of a commodity in her eyes. My roommate loves a challenge, always has, and probably won’t stop pursuing him until she has at least kissed him once.
To be honest, she hasn’t exactly been forthcoming when it comes to details about their intimacy, so I actually have no way of knowing if they’ve made out or been physical. I’m just assuming they have not because I would have heard about it in detail.
Kaylee loves sharing information.
Deciding to put it out of my mind, I lower my head and put my technical pencil to my notebook paper, finishing the sketch I’ve been working on for a few days: a tiny alien wearing a helmet and fishing a robot out of a lake. On the shore behind him is a villain with horns; a mighty storm brews in the distance.
What the villain doesn’t know is that our tiny alien is here to save the earth, and the little robot he’s fishing out of the water is going to be his new sidekick.
I shade in the left side of his helmet, lost in thought.
I haven’t given him a name, but he is round and cute and looks unassuming—he will definitely be underestimated in this story, a lesson the villain will soon learn the hard way. Maybe not in this book, but one that will follow.
This little critter is a lot like me, I suppose, a bit underrated and cute. Unassuming.
Living with two knockouts has always been something of a self-esteem issue for me—Kaylee and Lilly are uber self-assured and never without a boy at their side. It’s not that I think having a boyfriend is going to make me whole, but I do often wonder what it would bring into my life that I don’t already have.
I tap the technical pencil on my chin, thinking. Hmm. My roommates don’t always seem happy when they have boys around. In fact, Lilly seems miserable most of the time.
I’ve heard her crying in her room almost as much as I hear her on the phone fighting with Kyle, the guy she’s been dating for the last four months.
The same four months I’ve been working on my little comic book, which is not anywhere near completion, its funny, well-thought-out characters now jumping off the pages at me with a wink.
Cartooning may not be my career, but it will always feed my soul.
I get back to work, absentmindedly reaching for a tea cup set off to my right, my table full of glasses.
Espresso cup. Water glass.
Tea cup.
One plate, two plates.
So thankful I am in a booth, for a table simply would not do…
The door opens.
I glance up.
A familiar face lingers, but not the one I’ve been hoping to see.
“Kaylee?” I say it out loud although she is still too far away to hear the words. What is she doing here? She’s never, not once set foot in this place; it seems suspicious that she would be here now.
She raises her eyes and scans the restaurant.
Her mouth smiles when she catches sight of me.
Begins walking over, messenger bag slung across her body. For a Saturday, she is a little too dressed up—cute jeans and a blouse, hair down and curled. She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, but she still has put in effort—as if she is expecting to see someone here?
Someone that’s not me?
Sneaky, Kaylee…I know what you’re doing.
I make a show of clearing a spot so if she orders something there will be room for the server to set it down. And who knows, maybe she is here to see me—stranger things have happened.
“Hey.” My greeting is pleasant, paired with a grin. Not to be rude, but, “What are you doing here?”
My roommate—who I have never seen south of the railroad tracks off campus—slides into the booth with me, positioning herself so she’s facing the door, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen in her face.
“I just wanted to say hi and um…get breakfast or something.”
Distracted, she glances around.
Removes the chain of her bag fr
om her body and sets it on the seat beside her. Fusses with her hair.
I don’t believe for a second she came to say hi and get food, and I begin bobbing the tea bag floating inside my tea cup.
With a breath out, I say, “Kaylee, if you came because you want to bump into Jack, just say so.” Be honest.
She sighs heavily. “All right fine, you busted me.” My roommate leans over and reaches for a menu. “No sign of him?”
“No sign of him.”
“Bummer. I thought maybe…” Her glossy lips purse. “You know.”
She shrugs.
I do know.
Jack is…electric.
I don’t think I have met a guy quite like him before. Young gentlemen our age typically aren’t gentlemen at all; they’re rude and crude and have one thing on their brain: sex. Not only has Jack not put the moves on my roommate, he hasn’t put the moves on me when we’ve been alone, or on anyone else that I’m aware of.
I’m sure if he had, Kaylee would have found out about it—no doubt she’s chatted with her network of spies. Cheerleader friends, athletes, and anyone else who may run into Jack Jones on a regular basis—anyone who can provide intel.
“I haven’t seen Jack in a few weeks,” I tell her. “Sorry.” Gazing around, I catch sight of the server and motion for her to come over. “Do you want something? Their lattes are to die for.”
My roommate nods. “Sure, I’ll have a chai latte.”
She doesn’t say please or thank you before the server walks off nodding, and that bothers me.
I’ve never known Kaylee to be rude, but lately she’s been acting a little unlike herself, and I can’t put my finger on why.
Stress, perhaps? She’s getting older, and the cheerleading coach has been replacing many of the senior girls with younger, incoming freshmen—could she be worried about that?
“I came to ask you a favor.” She’s leaning in conspiratorially as if she has a secret to tell me, and I mirror her pose, leaning over too.
“What is it?”
“The rugby team has a practice game today, and I wanted to check it out.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. What does that have to do with me?”
“Will you come along? I don’t want to go by myself—I’d feel weird sitting there on the side. Like a sore thumb standing out.”
She’s not wrong; I don’t think there are any bleachers at the field where they play rugby, so most people sit in lawn chairs. If Kaylee were to show up and sit on the ground, it would absolutely look strange and she would stick out. Still, I’m not quite sure I want to go with her.
My shoulders sag. “Ugh, Kaylee. I’m not in the mood! You know I hate sports.”
“No you don’t, silly. You just want to stay here and nerd out with your notebook.” She flicks one of the pages with her index finger before using that same finger to pluck the half-eaten croissant off of my plate. She begins picking it apart—what there is left of it—setting one little piece on her tongue and chewing.
“Oh my god, I haven’t had carbs in weeks. This tastes so good.” Kaylee moans.
“Should I order another one?”
“Oh gosh no, I have to fit into my uniform this week for the game against State.”
Right.
“Well I don’t.” I laugh, snatching it from her hands and popping it into my mouth. Chew. Swallow.
“You bitch!” she chastises with fake outrage, bottom lip jutting out into a pout.
“You can’t call me a bitch and expect me to do you a favor,” I tease, still chewing, food in my mouth.
“I was only kidding. You’re the sweetest thing I know.” She smiles sweetly, trying to butter me up, reaching across the table and giving my cheek a little pinch. It’s a Southern thing, and she’s a Southern girl through and through. “The game began a little bit ago—we have plenty of time to make it.”
I make a show of gesturing around the table at all of my stuff, the notebooks and the laptop and my laptop bag, pens and pencils.
“What am I supposed to do with all this stuff? I walked here.”
“First of all, why would you do that? This place feels like it’s at the edge of the earth. Second of all, we have plenty of time to run it home.”
“You with your plenty of time…”
“I’m being serious. We can grab an Uber and make a pit stop at home, drop off your things, then walk to the park.” Her expression is hopeful and one I’ve seen at least a few dozen times.
“Do I have to? I don’t want to have to pack everything up. I’m settled here. I was just getting in my groove.”
Except I’ve totally been interrupted by her and getting back into my zone is going to be more difficult than it sounds—it’s not easy for me to stop working then pick back up where I was before I was interrupted; it’s the creative type in me.
“Of course you don’t have to—but I would love for you to. It would be good for you to get out, too. When was the last time you actually went to a school-sponsored event and had some fun?”
Honestly? A really, really long time—so long I don’t think I can even remember how long it’s been.
Maybe my freshman year?
She is doing an outstanding job of not only putting a guilt trip on me, but making me want to go and be social. I spend so much time holed up in our cute little house that perhaps I’ve forgotten there are other things in life besides schoolwork and my hobbies.
Reaching for my laptop bag, I unzip the top and begin putting things into it, packing up.
Across from me, my roommate’s eyes widen with glee, and she claps excitedly. “Oh yay, you’re going to come! I’m so glad! Now I don’t have to sit there alone, and you and I are going to have so much fun.”
“I could stand to be around people for a while,” I admit with a smile, taking my laptop and folding it closed. It slides right into the sleeve of my bag neatly. Next go the notebooks. My little alien friend and villain will have to wait until tonight.
The server comes with Kaylee’s latte, and I’m delighted to see that she’s put it in a to-go cup so we don’t have to sit and wait for her to drink it before we can leave. I place fifteen dollars on the table, which should be enough to cover everything I’ve ordered plus tip. I’ve been here enough times to know exactly how much I spend when I’m here.
I love this place so much.
“Thanks for the drink,” Kaylee says as we’re walking through the door, and I grin, happy that she’s remembered her manners.
She grabs us a car while we’re standing there.
It doesn’t take long before I’m dumping my things inside our kitchen and we’re locking up again, headed to the park where the rugby match is being held. While we walk, I google some information about how the game is played—ninety minutes with fifteen players on the field at a time.
No helmets. No other tactical equipment acceptable, just mouth guards.
How on earth these guys keep from getting injured is beyond me; Jack didn’t have a single scratch on his face the last time I saw him.
Kaylee and I were smart enough to bring chairs—two chairs we found in the back of the garage after sifting around through piles of wood, garbage cans, and old tools the owner of the house left behind when they moved. The original owner, not our current landlord. The chairs look like they’ve been eaten by rats, but they will have to do—it rained last night, and neither of us want to sit on the ground.
“God these are so gross,” my roommate says, opening her chair and gingerly lowering herself down into it.
I couldn’t agree more, cringing as I take my seat next to her on the sidelines. We’re close enough to the action but far enough away that we don’t look too eager. Kaylee wanted to blend in, not stand out.
There are a bunch of other girls here too, so we’re not the only ones gawking at the guys on the field. My eyes scan the giants, who are standing around during some kind of halftime? Or timeout? It’s really hard to say since we just got here and have seen none of
the actual playing.
One thing is for certain: they are all filthy, covered in mud from top to bottom, some worse than others.
“Do you see him?” Next to me, Kaylee is whispering, craning her neck and looking around.
“Eh. They all look alike.” Plus, I haven’t seen Jack in a few weeks, so would I actually recognize him?
“No they don’t—Jack is way better-looking and far more distinguished.”
“Is he though? Rob Thorton is pretty darn cute.” I’m teasing her, obviously, but Rob is a player on the team, and actually someone I’ve met downtown at the bars before. I spot him with his arm around another guy as they huddle.
“Shut up, he is not cuter than Jack.”
She taps me on the arm to let me know she thinks I’m being ridiculous—no other men are ever cuter than Kaylee’s current crush, at least not in her opinion.
“No, he really isn’t,” I admit out loud under my breath. It’s fun to tease, and it’s easy with Kaylee—she takes everything seriously.
“Oh Liza, look—the coach is putting him in!”
We turn our heads to get a better look, and sure enough, Jack is being briefed on the sideline, Coach’s hand on his shoulder, as if he’s trying to get Jack psyched up before he heads onto the field.
I can’t get a clear view of him because we’re still a bit too far away, but Jack looks…ill. Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me, but he doesn’t look thrilled. Rather, he kind of looks like he wants to bolt?
But that can’t be right.
“I feel like he mentioned to me that he wasn’t any good at this game,” I say to Kaylee as both our eyes lock onto Jack.
“He was probably just being modest,” she says. The smile on her face says he can do no wrong despite what he says about his skills.
“No, I’m pretty sure he said he sucks at it…” Sure do wish I had some popcorn to munch on while we watch the game. Even though I just ate breakfast, popcorn feels appropriate in this situation.
“This is a European sport—there’s no way he’s bad at it.”
My roommate sounds so confident I actually believe her optimism for a split second—until I watch Jack trot slowly onto the field, where the rest of their team members are already in action.
