Cassie
“Catch up, slow poke!” I call out behind me, zipping around a couple holding hands on the sidewalk leading to the Student Union. Grayson is trying to longboard for the first time, and I’ve finally discovered something he’s not effortlessly amazing at.
It’s oddly satisfying.
“I think my wheels are messed up,” he hollers back, running off the sidewalk for the eighth time. He stumbles off the board, picking it up with a huff before jumping on again and pushing toward me.
“You sound like my big sister when I’d beat her at Mario Kart. ‘It’s the controller! The buttons are broken!’”
Grayson laughs, the loose strands from where his hair is tied back blowing in the breeze as he catches up to me. “You love this, don’t you?”
“Just a little.”
I stick my tongue out at him, and he launches toward me when we reach the mall where the dodgeball tournament is, tackling me into the grass. We roll a few times before he lands on top of me, brushing my hair from my face, his steel eyes looking right through me.
For a while he just stays here, eyes bouncing from my lips to my hair to my eyes before making another round. It’s as if all the answers to every question he’s ever asked are written behind the freckles on my cheeks, or weaved into my red hair, or hidden under my smile.
The butterflies that had been sleeping in my stomach slowly flutter to life as I look up at him, the sun rays framing his silhouette above me.
Grayson laughs, tracing my jaw with his thumb before leaning down to take my lips with his.
I let him kiss me slowly, not even a little concerned about being late to the dodgeball tournament.
“You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
“I think that makes you the lucky one,” I point out, pecking him on the lips again after he’s pulled away.
Grayson grins, helping me stand, and then we both tuck our boards under our arms and make our way toward where the tournament is already beginning.
It’s been a tough week for us, especially after Grayson had to bail on our date, which is a big reason why he’s here in the first place.
He knew he needed to make it up to me, so he entered the dodgeball tournament with a few of his buddies in the music program.
It’s the first effort he’s truly made to be a part of my world, other than the Alpha Sigma concert, which was almost a disaster.
I’ve changed my schedule around to be at as many of his shows as I can be, whether he’s just playing at Cup O’ Joe’s or at one of the swanky restaurants downtown.
But when it comes to Greek events, Grayson usually rolls his eyes or makes jokes.
I get it, it’s silly to him, and I guess in the long run a dodgeball tournament benefitting our philanthropy probably doesn’t seem as important as a show played in front of hundreds of people or a video shoot that goes viral on YouTube.
But it’s important to me.
I know he’s busy, and I know he has his own priorities, but it means a lot to me that he’s moving me up the list. Even if he doesn’t fully get it, he’s here — and that’s a step forward.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say as he tucks me under the arm not carrying his board.
He presses a kiss into my hair. “Me, too. Hey,” he says, pulling me to a stop at the edge of the first makeshift court. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much as I should be. This summer just completely changed everything and I’m trying to figure out what it all means.”
“I know.” I nod, eyes on my feet, but he tilts my chin up.
“I’m going to be around more. I promise. This, us,” he says, motioning between us before tapping my nose. “You are important to me.”
I smile, leaning up on my tiptoes to kiss him before grabbing his hand. “Come on, let’s go find your team.”
It’s a simple promise, one easy to make but hard to keep. In my heart I believe him, but my head screams for me not to touch the hot water that burned last time. But for now, for today, we’re together. So, I focus on that as we walk hand-in-hand across the field.
Erin grabs me as soon as we reach the referee tent and latches on to my arm, shooting off a list of things she needs me to do with her eyes scanning her clipboard. Grayson kisses my cheek with a whispered good luck before jogging off to his first game, and then the tournament begins.
The rest of the day is a blur.
Erin has me running all over, bouncing back and forth between courts recording scores, filling water jugs, collecting entry money, and whatever else needs to be done. About the only breaks I get are to pee, reapply sunscreen, and chug down a cup of water of my own each time I refill the jugs.
Before I know it, the sun is setting, and we’re in the last game of the tournament. But when I walk up to the board where the bracket is displayed and see the last two teams standing, I know the night is far from over.
Because one team is Grayson’s. And the other is Adam’s.
“You see me killing it out there, baby?” Grayson asks, picking me up in his arms slick with sweat and spinning me around.
I laugh when he drops my feet back to the ground, my eyes still on the scoreboard with a sickening feeling stirring low in my stomach.
But I fake it.
“You’re in the final game!”
“Hell yeah, we are!” his friend, Malik, says. He high fives Grayson, running a hand over his short buzz cut. “Those Greek boys don’t stand a chance against musicians. We’re too good with our hands.”
He adds that last line with a wink and a lewd gesture as a group of my sisters walk by, all of them giggling and helping his inflated ego. Suddenly, a bright red dodgeball is thrown directly at Malik and he catches it last second in his stomach with a grunt.
“That’s a lot of talk for a future runner-up,” Adam says, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin.
Sweat sticks his light-blue team t-shirt to his chest, outlining the ridges of every muscle.
With the sleeves ripped off and the sides stretched to hang down low, my eyes can’t move from the ebb and flow of his ribs as he catches his breath from the last game.
When they finally trace their way back up to his eyes and they’re staring back at me, I clear my throat, turning to Grayson.
“So much testosterone. You guys do know the trophy is just plastic, right?” I joke.
The left side of Grayson’s mouth quirks up but falls quickly, his glare still pointed at Adam. “I don’t care if it’s made of paper. It’ll be on my bookshelf tonight.”
Adam scoffs, still grinning, not looking the least bit intimidated.
Just as Malik puffs his chest out, ready to fire back, Erin strolls up, pointing her glittery pen in all their faces. “Five minutes, boys. Save the shit talking for the game and go get water.”
Grayson and Adam are still leering at each other, but Grayson shakes it off, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Dinner with the winner after this?”
I laugh. “Sounds perfect.”
He winks, glaring at Adam once more before jogging off behind Malik.
The tension is still thick once he’s gone, and I tuck my hair behind my ears, but luckily Erin isn’t the least bit fazed and is already rattling off the last of my duties for the evening.
But I can’t help but watch Adam as his jaw flexes and without another look in my direction, he heads in the opposite direction of Grayson, and my eyes follow him the entire way.
The last matchup is best three out of five, with the entire crowd of my sisters and other Greek students crowding around court one for the final showdown.
The bleachers are full, Kappa Kappa Beta girls lining the boundary edge and cheering for the team they want to win.
I just stand in the middle, pretending to help the line judge, not sure which outcome would make me happier.
Or if either one will really make me happy at all.
I can feel it. The night isn’t going to end well. I just don’t know what will spark the bomb.
Each game makes my stomach hurt worse. Grayson’s team wins the first and second one, and Adam’s team wins the third.
Every single guy on both teams is dripping with sweat by the start of the fourth game, and I’m biting my nails down to the beds, watching and overanalyzing the way I feel when things happen.
Grayson gets hit, I cringe. Adam gets hit, I feel like I’m watching a dog get kicked. Grayson’s team wins, I smile and clap, all the while watching Adam with a pit in my stomach. Adam’s team wins and I sigh with relief, all the while wondering what that means and why I feel it.
My sister once watched a football game between her two favorite teams — the school where she went to undergrad, and the school where she did her Masters.
She said she felt sick watching and had no idea whom to cheer for.
She thought she would be happy either way, but when her undergrad team won, she was more sad than happy.
That’s when she realized she felt more connected to her graduate school.
I didn’t get it then, but now I do.
“We couldn’t have asked for a better finale,” Erin says as Adam’s team clinches the fourth game.
They’re jumping up and down celebrating while Grayson huffs and huddles his team up to strategize.
“These two teams are brutal. And we made it to game five. Here,” she says, thrusting the brightly decorated donations bucket toward me.
“Go make another round while the crowd is all amped up.”
“On it.”
I take the bucket from her hand and try to keep my mind busy as I walk up and down the bleachers collecting donations. The fifth and final game starts with my back turned to the court, and I try to keep it that way, wondering with every cheer and boo which team is winning.
But it doesn’t take long before I’m standing back beside Erin, bucket full to the brim with donations, and all that’s left to do is watch to see who wins.