Then You Saw Me by Carrie Aarons
7
Austin
“This is 91.7 WTUB! Welcome back to Division Three Hour with Austin Van Hewitt and Gio Natal.”
Gio intros us as our radio show comes back onto the air.
“Welcome back, folks. We’re here talking about the batting lineup changes Coach Minger made last week, setting up for some more aggressive hitters on the back end of the order,” I say in my radio voice.
I’ve been told I have a good one, voice for radio, that is.
“Yeah, Austin, we’re being told that Nevado is going to be batting clean-up while Oscar Young is being moved to the sixth spot.” Gio nods at me and points to a notepad he’s holding up.
We transition into spring tennis and then talk opinions about the upcoming football season because there are rumors that Talcott will get a new head coach. Overall, it’s a great show, and we sign off after our forty-five-minute time slot with smiles on our faces.
My friend and I walk out of the booth, and I’m riding high. There is nothing I love more than radio and talking sports on the radio. It’s random that I fell into it; a love of music and that freshman year feeling of wanting to explore the possibilities of college led me here. But once I walked into this dark studio with all of its weird inhabitants, I knew I was home.
I clap Gio on the back. “Great show. I think I heard Marissa say that we had about three hundred listeners.”
For a college radio show about division three sports, that’s pretty darn good. We’re gaining traction in the area among students and the school’s biggest sports fans. As a college town with a sports program that houses athletes who would never go pro, there isn’t a huge following. But there are diehard fans, and apparently, they were listening to our show.
“Really? That’s gotta be a new record for us. Which is depressing, but we’re slowly climbing.” My friend laughs and grabs one of the subs that the station caters for us, then sits in a spinning office chair. I join him, forgoing the food, and roll over to a computer terminal.
Though there are crazy hours and mishaps all over the place, working at the radio station has its perks. We get catered food on Tuesdays and Thursdays thanks to the university, and I get a salary as the station manager. I was selected for the job over the summer and had to interview three times with various professors. The extra money is helping with my off-campus living situation since Dad has pulled all help in the room and board department.
“I think we can reach even more by the end of the semester.”
“Then it’s hello, New York City, and talk radio superstardom.” Gio rubs his hands together.
The way he says it, like he’s so sure it’s going to happen, makes my stomach weak. Because for him, it’s a no-brainer. He’s from New Jersey, about half an hour outside the city, and his family is all for him renting some crappy apartment and pursuing his dream.
Me? I have to sneak around and interview for jobs, then worry myself sick with how I’ll ever take them even if I land a position.
“Did you bang that girl you were talking to on Friday night?” Gio asks, mustard dripping onto his chin.
My attention pivots from one thing I’m worrying about to the next—my future career to the girl I’ve been avoiding but can’t get out of my head.
Taya. I haven’t spoken to her since the party and then breakfast the next morning. I am still pretty put off by how she spoke to me in the basement, even though it was probably just my own history and defenses making me jump to conclusions.
That look she had on her face when the other girls mentioned her sister and mother … it has stuck with me. Sadness, a little bit of resentment, that resigned look like she had to settle for something her entire life.
I barely knew what they were talking about or why Taya had sounded so bitter when she talked about her mom hanging up on her, yet I’d never connected to a person more.
Barely knowing her hasn’t stopped the constant loop of thoughts in my head about her. It’s probably because she lives one floor below me in the same house, and there is this magnetism that has me second guessing if I shouldn’t just go down there and kiss her. See what it would be like.
“Nah, I didn’t.” I wave him off, pretending to look something up, so the conversation ends.
“Damn, she was fucking fine. You mind if I talk to her next time I come over? She’s your roomie, right?” Gio’s thick black eyebrows wiggle up and down.
“Yes, I mind.” I glower at him, and his surprised look has me sidestepping. “Because, uh, she’s my roommate. You know? It could get complicated.”
Gio looks at me like I’m insane. “If I hooked up with a girl who you’re going to live with for, what? Four months? And then could avoid her by not coming to your house? Sounds super complicated, dude.”
We both know my quick reaction is not because she’s my roommate, but at least he lets it drop.
“Anyway, are we still on for that fantasy baseball draft?” he asks, grabbing another sub.
The guy has the metabolism of a cheetah. When we eat out at Brick Tap, the local burger restaurant in our college town, he can eat three quarter pounders and still be hungry.
“Hell, yeah. I’m going to win this year, I can feel it.” I rub my hands together maniacally.
“You are not getting the bowling trophy.” He wags his finger.
“Brian is not winning. We have to at least block him from that. If I win, I’ll split the pot with you. As long as Brian doesn’t win.”
We’ve been playing fantasy baseball together, the four of us, including Evan and then some other buddies we rounded up, since sophomore year. And so far, no one but Brian has won. It’s not about the money for me—a two-hundred-dollar cash prize at the end of the season. It’s a little about keeping the bowling trophy that is awarded to the winner. Although, next year, whoever wins will have to mail it to the new winner since we’ll have graduated and all be living on separate coasts.
But Brian is a ninja when it comes to fantasy sports, and I’m determined to beat him this year.
“I can get in on that action.” He nods, polishing off his sandwich.
My stomach grumbles, and it’s like his hunger is contagious. I pluck a turkey and cheese off the tray and start to eat.
“All right, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Let me know if I can come over. We’ll play video games, I can hit on your hot roommate …”
“Screw off.” I chuckle, only half-joking.
But it does make my mind pivot back to Taya. At some point, I am going to see her with another guy. Right under my nose, in my own temporary house.
Why does that thought make me so pissed off jealous?