Who was going to cook him dinner? Make sure he didn’t mix dark colors and light colors in the laundry or make sure Teddy, our geriatric dachshund, was fed and had his daily vitamin?
Who was going to remindhimto take his vitamins and newly prescribed blood pressure medicine?
I’m well aware that he’s a grown man who did an amazing job raising me, but it’s always just been the two of us.
Taking care of each other.
Spending Saturday nights at home watching game highlights or playing board games.
I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, and I always will be.
Only now… I’m learning to be on my own. Without using him as a crutch to hide the fact that I’m afraid to put myself out there and do all the things I promised myself I’d do. It’s scary to put yourself out into the world in any capacity, especially when you’re doing it for the first time, but I have to do it. No matter how scary it feels.
It’s time for me to spread my metaphorical wings and fly, to experience all that college life has to offer, and to hopefully check some things off my list.
Starting tonight.
“Rory St. James, get your ass over here and be my pong partner,” Wren, my other best friend, who plays the prop for the team, yells from the opposite side of the hockey house’s living room. “I’m not fucking losing tonight to these douches, and no one runs a table like you, boo.”
I sigh, down the last of my drink, then thrust the now-empty cup into Fitz’s hands. “Must Ialwaysshow them how it’s done?”
“Go get ’em, tiger.” He chuckles.
I leave Fitz standing in the kitchen and make my way over to Wren, who’s in front of a white folding table lined with red cups. Two guys from the hockey team are on the opposite side, and they eye me arrogantly.
Like, just because I’m a girl, I can’t hold my own in a stupid drinking game.
Men. I wonder when they’ll finally stop underestimating women, because I think we’ve proven that we’re the superior creatures.
Wren peers down at me, a wide smile splitting his face, revealing his missing front tooth, and I bite back a laugh.
He’s an idiot who never wears a mouth guard, and last season he took a particularly hard tackle that knocked his tooth out. Most of the time, he’s too lazy to wear the bridge the dentist gave him.
And somehow he still manages to get more girls than half the guys on the team. He’s kind of a gentle giant. Hard and unyielding on the outside, but squishy on the inside. It’s what I love most about him.
Honestly, Wren Michaels is living proof that men can be badassandstill be kind, compassionate, and sensitive. That they don’t have to be one or the other.
“Time to eat your words, assholes,” he says to the hockey guys as he thrusts the small orange Ping-Pong ball into my hand.
Seems like we’ve got a bit of an advantage here seeing as how Wren handles balls on the daily and these guys chase a puck around with a stick, so I’m already liking the odds.
“Thanks for being my partner, Ror. I know I can always count on you,” Wren says, tossing an arm over my shoulder and tugging me close.
Of all the guys on the team, I’m the closest with Wren and Fitz. Don’t get me wrong, I love them—they’re my brothers in every sense of the word—but I don’t hang out with anyone as much as I do them. They just get me, and our friendship has always been easy. They’re my big idiots who I run to when the world’s falling apart, and I’m… one of the guys to them. Which I’ve always loved—having people who understand and accept you without question—but also I’m realizing that being one of the guys puts me in the same territory with… all the guys.
Even the onesoutsidethe team.
It’s a stigma that has somehow become my reputation around campus.
I’m the beer pong partner. The one to watch tape with. The wing woman. The girl who plays fantasy football. And most important, Coach St. James’s daughter who is a rugby aficionado and not afraid to go toe to toe with anyone about it.
And I love it. I do.
But… I just wish that it didn’t immediately put me injust-bros territory with practically every guy I meet.
Lately, it’s something I’ve become more… aware of now that I’m trying to meet new guys. I’m realizing this is how they see me, and it doesn’t help the fact that the moment I open my mouth, I embarrass myself and can’t seem to form a rational thought. It’s never been like that with the guys from the team, which made me realize that it’s actually theflirtingthat’s the problem. I really wish that I could talk to Fitz or Wren about it, but they’re men, and I truly doubt that they’d understand where I’m coming from anyway.
Cons to havingonlyguys as your best friends.
