On a Wednesday by Whitney G.
Courtney: Then
Senior Year
Pittsburgh
A few weeks later
With Kyle as my only college friend, I felt like I was seeing the city of Pittsburgh through an entirely different lens. He showed me the parts of town that I’d neglected for years, making me see just how much I’d missed.
We visited the North Shore on Saturdays, spent weeknights in the bars at Station Square, and took late night tours inside of Heinz Stadium too many times to count. He personally introduced me to the chefs at his favorite restaurants, taught me what “pierogies” were, and laughed when I experienced my first taste of kielbasa.
For the first time in my college career, I wasn't solely focused on my future career aspirations. I wasn’t spending every free moment writing, or working on my thesis (which was pretty easy to complete considering how much I was getting to know Kyle), and I wasn’t anxiously waiting for the semester to end.
I wasn’t even excited about going to London anymore.
“You need more fries on that salad,” Kyle said, cutting through my thoughts. “You can’t have the true Eat’n Park experience if there are no French fries on top.”
“French fries on a salad?”
“It’s a Pittsburgh thing.” He tossed a handful on top of my lettuce and added shredded cheese. “It’s also fucking amazing. Trust me.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” He covered the fries in ranch dressing.
“What are we?”
“What?” He leaned back.
“Like, you, me, this,” I said. “What are we?”
He stared at me for several seconds, smiling. “We’re friends who have long stopped working on your thesis for some strange reason.”
“I finished writing the draft weeks ago,” I said. “Apparently, I set a new senior record.”
“We’re also two people who are very attracted to each other and haven’t had sex an even odder reason.”
“Does that bother you?”
“If it did, I wouldn’t call you every day.” He clasped my hand atop the table. “Don’t think too much about this, Court. We’re just us.”
“So, you’re not sleeping with anyone else?”
“Not at all.” He looked as if he couldn’t believe it himself. Then he motioned for me to pick up my fork. “I’m not even sleeping with you.”