On a Wednesday by Whitney G.
Kyle: Then
Senior Year
Pittsburgh
The following Saturday
“Five and oh! Seven more to go! Huahhhh!” My teammates shouted in the locker room after we handed a brutal defeat to Ohio State.
“We’re going out to South Side tonight!” Trevor stood atop a bench. “Drinks are on Kyle!”
Everyone yelled in appreciation, and I wrapped a towel around my waist.
According to the stats, I’d played my best game of the college career so far, and it was more than worthy of an alcohol-infused celebration.
But I didn’t feel like cherishing it with my teammates for some reason.
I’d much rather have a repeat of my night with Courtney instead. Even though we didn’t have sex, and I didn’t even try to cross that line with her.
Maybe I do need to go to student health …
“Good job out there today, Kyle.” Coach Whitten stepped behind me. “You more than deserved the game ball.”
“You still haven’t given it to me, Coach.”
“I will after you tell me the truth about what you turned in this morning,” he said. “Who wrote your latest essay about The Vagina Monologues?”
“I did,” I said. “It was very thought-provoking wasn’t it?”
“A little too thought-provoking.” He crossed his arms. “I ran it through a plagiarism checker and I couldn’t find anything.”
“Because all of the words are original.” I smiled at the thought of Courtney retooling it over the phone last night. “I enjoyed the show this time around.”
“Sure, you did,” he said. “You can consider the punishment lifted, but if I hear a word about you being reckless tonight, you’ll be watching that show for the rest of the season.”
His words were enough for me to give Trevor my credit card in lieu of joining the team at South Side.
Walking over to Grayson’s locker, I cleared my throat.
“What do you say to you and me hanging out tonight?” I asked. “We can go to some place on Carnegie Mellon’s campus, so we can catch up in private.”
“I can’t,” he said. “I promised Charlotte Taylor that I would meet her at an art gallery. Then we’re going back to the apartment to watch a movie.”
“I’m sorry, who did you just say?”
“Charlotte Taylor.” He smiled. “You heard me.”
I blinked.
Charlotte Taylor was the type of girl that would make a guy go out with her ten times before giving him her phone number. I’d heard countless tales about how she invited guys up to her room for hours-long discussions about books. And coffee.
“Is there something in your eye, Kyle?”
“What’s left of my best friend’s dignity.” I crossed my arms. “Are you aware that you can get any other girl—literally any other girl, on this campus?”
He smiled, but he didn’t answer.
“Are you also aware that the woman you’re about to spend time on is probably a virgin, and she probably wants to remain that way for the rest of her life?”
“Kyle, Charlotte’s sex life is none of your business.”
“It’s none of yours either, since I can guarantee that you’ll never have any with her.”
He laughed. “Everything isn’t about sex.”
“So, you’re hanging out with her willingly?”
“Yes, Kyle.” He laughed. “Willingly.”
“Why?”
“Because I like her a lot,” he said. “I know you have no idea what that feels like, but one girl is more than enough sometimes. Then again, since you’re probably up to twenty or thirty by now, I know that seems unfathomable.”
“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about my number for a while …” I let out a sigh. “I am setting an all-new record this year—without even trying. I never even knew this number was possible.”
“Congratulations.” He patted my shoulder, not catching my drift at all. “Feel free to spare me the details. I don’t think I can handle them right now.”
I considered telling him anyway, but something told me to hold back.
“Enjoy your night with the Virgin Mary, then.” I stepped back. “I’ll see you whenever you get home.”
“You’re not going out at all?”
“No, I uh—” I remembered I had a few questions from Courtney to answer. “My room will suffice for the night.”