2. Two
Two
Tyler Avery
Miller’s mouth lifts into a smirk as he meets my eyes over the pool table. “Winner buys lunch?” he asks, lifting his cue stick to line up his shot. We came to the student lounge after practice with a few other guys from the team, but a couple of games in, they left. Now it’s just me and Miller making bets.
I don’t know what it is about him that gets me going. “You’re on,” I agree.
His cue stick hits the white ball with a clank, sending it toward a pocket on the left. It collides with a solid green, knocking it into the pocket. “Guess that makes you stripes,” he taunts with a smirk as he moves around the table. Miller leans over to line up his second shot, and I inch closer, analyzing the layout.
I’m not much of a pool player. Calculating out the angles and force of the ball is too much work, and I never really enjoyed math. There’s a good chance I’ll lose, but Miller screws up his shot, knocking the ball into the wall, and it bounces in the wrong direction. My turn. My eyes scan the area around the cue ball for striped balls. From there, I set my stick on the table and line up my shot. I miss. We trade turns back and forth, each of us sinking balls at around the same rate until we’re down to just the eight-ball.
“Don’t choke,” Miller jokes.
“Eight-ball side pocket.” I point out the hole I’m aiming for, and he nods.
Miller leans over the table beside me as I line up my cue stick. “You got this?” he asks. “It’d be a shame to mess up now. A shame for you, that is. I’m fucking starving. Can’t wait for you to buy me lunch.” He chatters on, debating the pros and cons of pizza versus cheeseburgers. I do my best to tune it out, recognizing it as the distraction it is.
I hit the cue ball, and it slams into the eight ball. The black ball rolls toward the pocket. Then it stops right on the edge. Miller moves in a rush. He must call the shot, but I don’t register it. I’m too focused on the eight-ball falling in and the pain of biting my lower lip. He pats me hard on the shoulder. “So, how about lunch? I think I’m going with the cheeseburgers.”
“Fine. A bet’s a bet. Come on, jackass.”
Miller nudges my shoulder with his as he leans into me. “I love it when you call me pet names.”
I shove him off me. “Fuck off.”
He doesn’t say anything back, but there’s still a shit-eating grin on Miller’s face. We make our way from the lounge to the cafeteria. It’s late enough that most of the lunch crowd is gone, but not so late that people are heading in for dinner. Miller grabs a soda along with his cheeseburger while I grab a slice of pizza and a side salad. As promised, I pay for the food, and Miller leads us to a nearby table.
Miller and I have an unusual friendship. Despite being teammates, he loves to push me. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember, back to when we were on opposing peewee teams. We compete over stupid shit, make bets, attempt to steal each other’s hookups at parties. It doesn’t help that we’re both in frat houses with entirely different reputations. Miller’s frat is a party house full of jocks, but Omega Theta is a mixture of alum kids and trust funds. If it was up to me, I’d rather be in Kappa house with Miller, but that wouldn’t go over well with my father.
“Kappa is throwing a party in a couple of weeks,” Miller says between bites. “It’s right after our first game.”
“I’m sure the team will love that,” I answer noncommittally. If we win, there will be celebrating, and if we lose, we’ll get more shitfaced. Either way, it all works out.
“You should come,” he tells me.
I take a bite of my pizza, buying myself time to respond. It’s not that we don’t go to parties at each other’s frats. But when we do, it’s not uncommon to run into a little extra shit. Last time Miller got drunk at an Omega Theta party, one of my brothers shaved his hair off. I don’t think I’d look nearly as good bald. “I’ll think about it,” I say finally.
We fall silent for a few moments as we eat, but I can still feel Miller’s eyes on me. There’s a hint of a grin on his face and something about it makes me feel off. I shove the last few bites of my food in my mouth and grab my trash. “See you around,” Miller says.
I give him a quick nod as I leave. I don’t know what that was just now. Sure, most of the time we have teammates around us when we hang out, but it shouldn’t be that unnerving to share a meal with Miller. Despite our constant trying to one up each other, he’s not a bad guy. He just gets annoying, and I think he enjoys seeing me all pissed off.
Whatever. It’s probably best not to overthink it. I switch over my thoughts to schoolwork. It might be early in the semester, but I’m already lost in my Biology class. If it wasn’t for Gen Ed requirements, I’d skip science all together. It’s not like I need to know Bio for my major.
The frat house is almost empty as I duck in. I ignore the few guys I see along the way as I grab the things I need for class. I thought it’d be great when I first signed up for mostly afternoon and online classes. Leave my mornings and weekends free for soccer and working out. Maybe it was a mistake, though. Listening to my teacher drone on this late in the day has me close to nodding off. As much as I try to listen and pay attention, it’s going in one ear and out the other.
“It’s a trip to the store, not a trip to the beach. It shouldn’t be such a big deal,” Madelyn complains, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder.
I ignore my little sister’s bullshit and keep my eyes focused on the road. With how long she took in the store, it feels like we’ve been out for hours. My trunk is full of crap, and I don’t know where she expects to put it all in her dorm. Since she doesn’t have a car, I get to play taxi whenever she needs something, which is a total joke. We might go to the same school, but Madelyn is a sophomore. What’s she going to do when I graduate, and I’m not here next year?
“If you get a license, you could drive yourself to the store.” I’m sure I’ve repeated that line a million times over the past year.
“And if you got laid, maybe there wouldn’t be a stick up your ass.” Maddy rolls her eyes, then pulls out her phone. Her fingers tap at the screen in a rush as she texts someone. The whole time we’ve been out, she’s been messaging. I don’t know if it’s one person in particular or she has a whole group of friends to annoy, but her phone hasn’t stopped chiming for the past hour.
The sight of the Blue Mountain University campus in the distance is the only thing that keeps me from another sarcastic remark. The end of this trip is almost here. Just a few more minutes. Madelyn’s phone rings, and she lifts it to her ear with a high pitched, “Hello?”
I grit my teeth and do my best to tune her out. There might only be two years of difference in our ages, but Maddy is some sort of completely different animal. I don’t think I’ll ever understand teen girl. Maybe this is why I don’t see the point of dating …
I shake off the thought as we pull into the parking lot. Madelyn keeps chatting away even as I pull into a spot. “Come on,” I tell her. “Your stuff isn’t going to magically transport itself to your dorm.”
Maddy scoffs and opens her door as she talks to whoever is on the phone. “Hey, gimme a minute. I’ll call you back.” Then she turns her attention to me. “You’re joking, right? Come on, Ty, it’s not that far to my dorm.” Her chin tucks down as she looks up at me through her lashes, turning on the puppy eyes.
Fuck my life.
It takes a few trips to get all of Maddy’s crap out of my car and into her dorm. It doesn’t help that my arms are already tired from my workout this morning. Still, as I get to my room, Maddy’s sarcastic remark lingers on my mind. I know she was just saying it to mess with me, but it’s been longer than I’d care to admit.
Between soccer and school, finding time to date is hard. Which didn’t bug me at first. I was good with the occasional hookup at parties. It just doesn’t seem as fulfilling lately. Maybe it’s because I keep focusing on the looming end of college. Senior year just started, but I’m counting down the days to graduation. School will finally be over, and I’ll be expected to get a job and be a real adult. It all feels too big.
I pull out my phone, opening it to a dating app to scroll through the girls I’ve matched with. Maybe Maddy is right, and I just need to get laid. My thumb swipes over the screen, but none of it is appealing.