On a Wednesday by Whitney G.

Kyle: Then

Senior Year

Pittsburgh

Iwas turning into a pussy.

I’d ignored texts from four guaranteed, consensual hookups, all in favor of hanging out with Courtney.

In years past, when we won the national championship, my first move was to get drunk and let whoever was interested come back to my room.

This year, I went to one goddamn party.

One.

And then I left early to come back to my apartment and watch fireworks on my apartment’s roof with Courtney.

“Something wrong, Kyle?” She looked up at me.

“No.” I looked up at the sky. “I’m just wondering if we can watch Rambo once we go back to my room. I don’t think I can deal with another man groveling in a rom-com this week.”

“That’s like the best part of the film.” She smiles.

“How do you figure that?”

“Because the heroine always takes the guy back, if he does a good job.”

“We’re watching Rambo, Die Hard, and Die Harder in that order.” I pulled her into my lap. “Right after I get done kissing you.”

“You’re not going to try to have sex with me?”

“I’ve been trying to have sex with you since the day we met.” I trailed my finger against her lips. “It’ll happen eventually.”

“You sure about that?”

“One-hundred-percent.”