The Story of Us (4 page)

“Where are you guys from?”

They tell me all about their hometown,
only about two hours away, opposite direction of mine and Hailey’s
though.

When we reach the athletic building,
there’s a bunch of girls on the lawn right out front stretching and
warming up, so we jump in and quickly follow suit. It’s a nice
morning, weather-wise, not too hot, but not chilly at all. A woman
with short dark hair walks over, blowing a whistle, and we all
freeze in place.

“I’m Diane, your cheerleading coach.
Before we get started, I want you all to know that this squad
requires dedication and hard work. It’s not an option. You miss
practice, you better have a good excuse. You miss three practices,
regardless of a good excuse, you’re done. You need to come to
practice in flexible clothes. Do not show up in jeans, or I will
send you away and count it as an absence. Do not wear jewelry at
all. Not to practices. Not to games. And certainly not to
competitions. Minimal make-up. Hair is to always be worn up.
Comfortable sneakers. White sneakers for games and practices, and
bows are mandatory as well. No piercings. Everyone ready to get
started?”

I look around at all of the other
girls here. There’s about twenty, give or take. And it seems like
everyone has someone they already know on the squad. I wish Hailey
would have cheered with me this year. It’s really gonna suck not
having her here for all of this.

“I said, is everyone ready
to get started?”
Diane shouts, clearly
disappointed with everyone’s first reaction.

Practice goes by quickly, but not
without effort. We mainly go over all of the basics and then sit
through a lecture of expectations. At the end, we do our
conditioning and then we’re instructed to run around the building
five times, after which we’re free to leave. I’m sweaty and gross,
but I’m in desperate need of a coffee before heading back to the
dorm to shower. My addiction is real. I don’t even care that
Craig’s probably working. I drag my legs over to The Grind and wait
in line impatiently. There are a lot more students here today than
there were yesterday. When I make it up to the counter, I open my
bag to pull out my student ID card, which also works as a pre-paid
Visa, and I hear Craig’s voice before I look up to see
him.

“It’s taken care of,” he simply
informs me, placing an already-made coffee in front of me before I
even have the chance to order.

“No thanks,” I respond bitterly,
handing him my card.

“Well, princess, as much as I’d like
to take your card and tell this dude that you declined his offer to
buy you coffee, I’m afraid you have no choice. It’s already paid
for.”

I stare blankly at him in confusion
until he nods his head to the left, towards a guy standing on the
other end of the long counter, smiling brightly at me.

“Tyler?” I whisper to
myself.

Craig answers, “Already making
friends, I see.”

“I guess that makes two of us,” I bite
back, grabbing my coffee from him.

“Who, Tiffany? That wasn’t a friend,
Princess. That was a hook-up. There’s a difference.”

I scoff at him, as I walk away. Ugh!
Why do I let him get to me? Why does he make me so mad? I push all
thoughts of Craig out of my mind as I near Tyler. He looks so put
together and neat. Handsome, really. Suddenly, I realize how messy
I must look, and I hurry to smooth down the stray hairs escaping
from my ponytail.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Tyler says,
pointing to the coffee in my hands.

“Not at all. That was really nice of
you. Thanks. How did you know how I take my coffee?”

“I didn’t. The guy working said he
remembered from yesterday.”

Of course Craig would know. “Oh. Well,
thank you.” I smile politely at him.

“You must be just coming back from
practice, huh?”

“Nooo. Don’t you know leggings and
unruly hair is the new trend?” I joke.

He laughs, “Well I think all the girls
should start following this new trend, if it means they’ll look as
good as you.”

“Oh, please. I’m a mess! But my coffee
addiction ultimately won out over self-consciousness, so here I
am.”

“Well I’m grateful for your coffee
addiction then. Where are you headed now?”

“Just back to the dorm. I need to
shower.”

“Can I walk you back?” he
offers.

“Sure.”

We walk out of the coffee shop, but
not before I see Craig staring me down. We’re not together and he
was just hooking up with some girl last night, so why on Earth do I
feel guilty right now? This is ridiculous. I need to push Craig out
of my mind completely. Permanently. We’re nothing. We’ve never been
anything. He’s Drew’s friend who flirts with me just to get a
reaction. There will never be anything more to it than that. And I
definitely don’t want a sleazy guy like Craig Morgan
anyway.

“So, first practice?” Tyler
asks.

“Yeah. Our coach seems tough too. Have
you had football practice yet?”

“Yeah. We’ve had a couple practices
already. We have one this afternoon, if you wanna come
watch.”

“Do they allow that? I thought most
football practices were private so no one could steal techniques or
plays or anything.”

“Nah. Coach doesn’t mind. He lets
people sit in the stands and hang out while we’re on the field. He
hasn’t made anyone leave yet.”

“Oh, cool. What time
today?”

“Three. Maybe afterwards we could go
grab a bite to eat or something?”

“Oh. Um. I actually have to finish
unpacking. And I think Hailey and I are just gonna lay low tonight
since classes start tomorrow. But maybe another time?” It’s not
entirely a lie, but I’m not being completely truthful with him
either. He seems like a sweet guy and he’s really good-looking, but
I just don’t think I’m ready to start dating in college yet. I
don’t want to settle down with a guy before classes even start. And
I barely know him. It’s just too soon.

His smile falters and I can see the
disappointment etched in his face. “Sure, another time,” he agrees,
nodding.

“Do you mind if I still come watch you
practice for a bit?” I offer as a compromise, not wanting him to be
upset with me.

“Not at all. I hope you
do.”

When we enter the double doors and
walk into the entryway to the dorm building, I turn to him. “Well,
thanks again for the coffee.” I hold the cup up a bit
higher.

“Not a problem. I just might have to
hang out in that coffee shop more often now that I know about your
self-proclaimed coffee addiction.”

“I’ll welcome it, just as long as you
keep the coffee hand-outs coming,” I joke.

He laughs. “I’ll see you in the stands
this afternoon?”

“See you this afternoon,” I assure
him.

After showering and getting ready,
Hailey, Drew and I head over to the cafeteria to grab some lunch
and then I con them into going to watch Tyler’s practice with me.
There’s not a lot of people at the field, so it’s easy to spot
Craig Morgan right away. I’m not sure why he’s here, but he’s
standing with a group of guys near the entrance. I’m secretly
wishing we could walk right past him, but of course Drew stops to
say hi. When he turns to greet Drew with one of those half-hug
things that guys do, I can see that Craig is smoking a cigarette.
We’re not close or anything, not even friends, but I’ve hung out
with him over the summer a few times thanks to him and Drew being
friends, and I’ve never seen him smoke. Surprisingly, he doesn’t
say anything to me at all. And I certainly don’t engage him. We
keep walking until we reach the bleachers and we sit to watch the
football players practice. There’s only a few other people here,
probably girlfriends and friends of the players, just like us.
Although it’s September and still in the high 70s during the day,
nights are becoming more and more chilly. About forty-five minutes
into the practice, I’m practically shivering.

“You guys wanna take off?” I ask
Hailey and Drew.

“Yeah. Will Tyler be upset you didn’t
stay though?” Hailey asks.

“I don’t care. I’m fr-freezing.
Besides, I came. I saw. I’ll see him play again. Kind of
inevitable, really.”

She laughs. “Okay, let’s take
off.”

When we walk out the gate, Craig and
the group of guys he was with are nowhere to be seen, which is just
fine with me.

Drew walks with us back to our dorm
room and I say bye to him before entering our common room, knowing
Hailey will want some private time to say bye herself.

The twins, as I’ve come to refer to
them, are in the common room watching a movie.

“Valerie!” Ashley yells with
enthusiasm.

“Hey guys. What are you watching?” I
ask with considerably less pep.

Julie answers, “The
Notebook.”

“You’ve seen it, right?” Ash
asks.

“Of course. Like a million times,” I
respond, walking to my room. I quickly change into pajamas and join
the girls on the couch. When Hailey comes in, she does the same.
It’s nice to have the girl time, to just relax and unwind at the
end of the day. It feels like a big sleepover, with a couple of
girls Hailey and I barely know, but a sleepover nonetheless. And
sleepovers are always fun.

Chapter 4

I awake in the morning to a sound
blaring in my ear. I try to ignore it, but it’s so annoyingly
persistent. Then I hear Hailey yell, “Val! Shut that thing off!
You’re gonna wake the whole building!”

I reach over, trying to find my alarm
clock. My hand feels for anything on the nightstand that could feel
like a little piece of plastic with a big push button on the front.
Nothing. I force myself to sit up and open my eyes to search for
it. Once my eyes adjust, I realize it’s on the floor. I must have
knocked it over, trying to shut it off in my sleep. I reach down
and finally turn it off. Groggy with sleep, I gather my stuff and
head for the showers. Before my first class, I head to The Grind to
grab a coffee and I’m relieved to find that Craig isn’t working.
Even with my coffee stop, I’m still a little early. I didn’t want
to risk getting lost and looking like the typical freshman, ducking
into class late and embarrassed. I walk into the building, which
looks like the oldest of all the buildings on campus, and I walk up
to the second floor. As soon as I walk into the classroom, I can
smell it- School. No matter where you are, classrooms always have
that distinct smell to them. I can’t pinpoint what it is exactly,
probably because it’s not one particular thing. It’s a mix of
smells, really, specific to schoolrooms, nonetheless. Paper,
pencils, erasers, markers, carpet, desks – they all mix together to
create that unique classroom smell.

WSC isn’t a huge school, so it’s not
set up auditorium-style like some college classrooms are. It’s not
an entirely small school either, so it’s not packed with those
chair/desk combinations used in some of the tinier classrooms.
Rather, it has more of a conference room feel to the rooms. The
desks are long tables which seat 3-4 rolling chairs to them and the
tables are aligned in rows. I pick my seat in the third row, last
table near the window. No one’s here yet, so I pull out my schedule
while sitting in the empty classroom. Mondays & Wednesdays:
World Civ 1, Psych 101, Public Speaking. Tuesdays & Thursdays:
English Lit and Basic Algebra. Common courses, since I don’t know
what I want to major in yet. It’s Monday, so I’m sitting in my
World Civ 1 class, which I’m pretty sure will be pure torture.
History is boring enough, never mind having it be my first class of
the morning. People start to pour in and before long the professor
arrives. He’s an older man, probably in his mid-60s. He’s tall and
lean and has a head full of white hair. He passes out a semester
long syllabi and reads every word on it, explaining in detail what
the whole class will consist of, assignments we’ll be responsible
for, how he’ll grade us, and when our exams will be. An hour and
fifteen minutes later, he releases us and I’m off to the psych
building. My psych classroom looks exactly the same as my history
classroom, with the only difference being that it’s on the first
floor. People start to file into the room immediately. I pick the
same seat as I did in my history class – third row, last table near
the window – and I’m surprised to see Ashley sit down next to
me.

“I didn’t know we had psych together!”
she exclaims.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize it either,” I
say pleasantly surprised.

The professor comes in before we can
talk more. She’s a younger woman, probably only in her thirties.
She’s heavy set, has dark blonde hair and eccentric clothing. I
realize within the first ten minutes of class that she pretty much
poses every sentence in the form of a question, asking ‘yeah?”
afterwards. She’s also pretty funny though. If my history professor
puts me to sleep, at least I know I’ll wake up in this class. She
says she’s obsessed with reality T.V. and talks about her favorite
shows for literally half the class before moving on to the syllabi.
She lets us out ten minutes early, but I stay where I am because my
public speaking class is in this same room.