35
My Boyfriend, Apparently
Kylie
Wednesday night, I’m on Nash’s bed with my laptop on my knees and my paper open, watching him pack for the away games.
Everything comes out of the bag first, and then it goes back in, in an order.
He rolls his socks. He checks the side pocket twice.
There’s a little bag inside his big bag with tape in it, and he opens it, looks at the tape, and closes it again.
“That’s a lot,” I tell him, watching his process.
“You should be writing your paper,” he says, not looking at me.
“I’m taking a break.”
“You’ve been taking a break for twenty minutes.”
He pulls his shirt over his head on his way to the drawer for a different one, and I lose my entire train of thought.
That’s my boyfriend.
I’ve been doing that all day. It’ll happen in the middle of something completely normal, like him checking a skate lace or telling me my intro’s too long or eating, and my brain will just go, that’s your boyfriend.
Rafe comes in for his charger and looks at me sitting cross-legged on Nash’s bed in Nash’s hoodie with my socks on his pillow. “Are you sleeping here again?”
“I’m his girlfriend now.”
Rafe looks at Nash. “Jesus Christ.”
Nash grins.
Rafe takes his charger and leaves. Nash zips the big bag and stands it up by the door with his stick beside it.
“What time do you leave?” I ask.
“Noon.” He comes over, takes the laptop out of my lap, and puts it on his desk, still open. “I’ll be back Sunday.”
“I know.”
He looks at me for a second. Then he gets a hand around the back of my knee and pulls, and I go down the bed flat on my back, and that’s the end of the conversation.
He leans over me and kisses me. He takes off my leggings, and I take off his shirt.
My hands go on his back, his chest, down his stomach, my palm dragging over his side when I pull him down closer. I want all of him.
“You know you can’t do this,” I tell him somewhere in the middle, with my mouth at his ear.
“Do what?”
“Get a girlfriend and then immediately abandon her.”
“It’s for hockey.”
“I’ve heard the excuses.”
He laughs into my neck, and I smile. Then his hand goes under my back and lifts me up into him, and I stop being funny.
He fucks me hard, the way he always does.
We change positions a few times, and each time, he finds my mouth, and I find his abs, his chest, his back.
I get to have all of him now, so I’m going to linger in it.
Then he rubs my clit and starts whispering in my ear.
You better fucking come with me. Kylie, your pussy.
I need this all the fucking time. The only dirty words I can manage are four days, and you’re leaving.
He thrusts into me harder, and he gets me to come first. Then he follows right after.
Afterward, we go to sleep, because he needs to be up at six and then on a bus for six hours. He turns the lamp off, and I arrange myself along his side in the dark.
“You better call me,” I say.
“Yeah.”
“Not text. Call.”
He holds me. “I’ll call you.”
“FaceTime.”
“Kylie.”
“What?”
“I’ll FaceTime you.”
I put my cold foot on his leg. “You better.”
He runs his hands up my naked body. I run a hand down his, and then I put my face on his chest and listen to his heart rate settle.
The bus is in the lot behind the athletic building at quarter to twelve, and I walk over with him, because my class isn’t until one.
This is a whole operation. A truck left this morning with the gear on it, and somehow there’s still a mountain of bags going into the bottom of the bus.
All of them are in suits, which is a thing I did not know about, and honestly, it’s doing something to me.
Rafe has sunglasses on in October. Koda’s hood is up over his suit jacket, and he’s arguing with somebody about a seat.
The guy I think is the coach stands at the bus door with a folder, counting people.
Nash takes me by the neck the way he does, kisses me once, and says, “I’ll call you.”
“You better.”
“Threatening.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Then he picks up his bag and goes.
I go to the library and stay there for basically two days.
Second floor, by the windows, same table.
I bring the good snacks on Thursday, and by Friday, I’m down to whatever’s in the vending machine.
Kenzie comes for three hours Thursday afternoon and does maybe forty minutes of work.
I rewrite my introduction for the sixth time.
I cut two thats. At one point, I read the whole thing out loud in a stairwell like a crazy person, because Nash said that’s how you find the sentences that don’t work, and he’s annoyingly right.
Nash calls Thursday night from a hotel room, and we talk until somebody bangs on their door and tells them to get downstairs. He says, “I’ll call you tomorrow,” and hangs up.
Friday afternoon, I finally hit submit. I sit there for a second looking at the confirmation screen, and then I put my head down on the table, right on the wood.
Kenzie texts me ????? from her building, because I sent her a screenshot with no words, and I go back to Corvin and lie face down on my bed for an hour.
Nash texts me at six.
Nash: Did you finish it?
Me: Yes!
Nash: Good.
Nash: Did you put this in my bag?
He sends a picture of a banana, and I laugh.
Me: I didn’t want you to forget about me.
Then I do something gutsy. I take a selfie in the mirror in only my thong, covering my nipples with my arm and arching my back, and I hit send with no hesitation. It’s the first nude of my entire life.
The three dots pop up immediately.
Nash: Like I could ever forget about you, Kylie.
Nash: Fuck me.
Nash: That’s mine.
I look at that text for a long time. Then he sends a bathroom selfie with his shirt off, hard through his gray boxers, and I grin and zoom in.
Me: And that’s mine!
Me: Come back already!!
Friday night, everybody ends up in my room, because my room has the best floor space. Kenzie’s on my bed. Bianca’s at my desk in my chair doing something to her nails. Tessa’s at her own desk with no headphones on, which I notice.
Paige comes in last, drops down on the floor, and says, “I need a mental break this weekend.”
“From what?” Kenzie says.
“Everything.”
Bianca doesn’t look up from her nails. “Does ‘everything’ have a first name?”
“No,” Paige says quickly, and changes the subject entirely. She’s not being a bitch about it. But Kenzie and I catch eyes across the room, because we both know something’s happening and she isn’t talking.
My phone buzzes on the bed next to me.
Nash: FaceTime?
A year ago, if Evan had texted me that, I’d have been out of this room and into the hallway before the second ring. I look at the girls on my floor, Bianca blowing on her nails and Paige flat on her back on my rug, and I type.
Me: Girls are here.
Nash: Ok.
That’s all he says. I put my phone face down and leave it there.
Bianca says there’s a home football game tomorrow and she’s never been to one. Neither have I, which is embarrassing, given that I’ve been here since August. Kenzie says the student section is insane and we’d have to get there early. Paige sits straight up like somebody put life back in her.
“Yes!” she says. “That. That’s exactly what I want.”
“Football?” I ask.
She nods. “Fuck yeah.”
So now we’re going. Bianca’s already texting somebody about the tailgate and asking whether we should all wear matching clothes. Kenzie’s explaining the wristband situation.
I look over at Tessa. She’s minding her own business.
“Hey, Tess. Do you want to come?” I say.
I already know the answer. I’ve asked her to hang out a hundred times, and it’s always some polite version of no. This time she pauses, which isn’t her normal reaction.
“Football?” she asks.
I nod enthusiastically.
“Sure,” Tessa says.
I gasp. “What?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. I’ll come.”
“Wait, are you serious?” I think I’m going to have a heart attack.
She nods, and I jump into her lap and squeeze her face.
“Are you freaking serious right now?” I shriek so loud she tries to push me off. I stand up and start jumping in place. “I am going to show you the time of your life.” I tap her nose, and she’s smiling.
Saturday, we all get ready in my room, which means five people and one mirror.
Bianca brings a handle, a bottle of cranberry, and a stack of red cups, and she pours them out on my desk like a bartender.
She hands one to Paige, one to Kenzie, and one to me.
Then she holds one out toward Tessa the way you’d hold something out to a dog you don’t know.
Tessa takes it.
Everybody in the room stops.
I swear my jaw is on the floor.
“You drink?” I ask.
Tessa looks at me over the cup. “Not all the time.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my innocent roommate?” I laugh.
She grins over the lip of her cup and takes a sip.
Paige points at her with both hands. “I’ve got my eye on you, girlie. It’s the innocent ones you have to watch out for.”
Tessa makes an O with her hand and holds it up to one eye and squints through it like a telescope.
Paige and I look at each other and lose it.
Apparently, Tessa Canten has been sitting four feet from me since August with a whole hidden personality.
I lift my cup to her. She smiles, and we both take a long sip.
“Who are we playing today anyway?” Bianca asks from the floor.
“Lakeside,” Tessa answers.
We get there at one for a two o’clock, and it’s already packed with four thousand people in the student section, standing on metal bleachers in the cold, screaming at a field.
We end up sixteen rows up behind a guy in full body paint who doesn’t sit down once in three hours.
I keep my phone in my pocket on purpose.
This is a girls’ day, and I shouldn’t be expecting a thing from Nash, who’s in another state getting ready for his own game.