We Go Way Back

chapter eight

RACHEL IS VERY excited with the nearing of Valentine's Day. First of all, she's almost sure that her boyfriend, Chris, will propose to her since they also started dating on February 14th, a few years ago. Secondly, the decorations for the cutesy half of the room have just arrived and we've been toying with different ideas for a few minutes.

Angie's is a space not too wide, but very long on either side of the counter, which stands on the middle of the room. The counter will be split in half, one side of the exhibition glass left normal with the other exposing only cupcakes with fondant hearts and slices of cake in every hue of red and pink.

"The mugs we ordered arrive tomorrow," she informs me, sliding construction paper hearts through a thread. Once the garland is filled, she holds it up above her head by the window. "Pete and Mariah are looking up recipes, they may need us to stay a bit later today to taste-test the new cupcakes."

I nod. "Sure. Vicky is the hostess for the trivia night, right? Actually, have we even figured it out?"

The last trivia night Vicky hosted was a smashing success: she's entertaining, witty, and energetic. Rachel was so impressed by her that Vicky was recruited for a Valentine's Day game.

Rachel's eyes sparkle like the fairy lights we have crisscrossed along the ceiling. "We're calling it Matchmaking Trivia," she says. "and all the questions are Valentine's Day themed. Vicky found a website with questions and answers about it. We're putting a sign-up sheet; each girl gets an even number, and each guy gets an odd number and then we can show the randomizing of the pairs on the projector screen."

"What about queer people?" I inquire. "And what if we have couples coming in? I'm sure they won't want to be split up."

She scratches the top of her head. "You have a point... That could be your job, figure it out, Delilah, will you?"

Rachel doesn't see me rolling my eyes as I resume my work, cleaning up tables and taking orders as I stifle yawns.

These past few days have been... interesting. Coach Miller is driving me to the edge of sanity with each practice, which have now been upgraded to bidaily, meaning that I only leave the campus well after ten in the evening. Because of that, I've opted to have dinner with Ellie most nights. When I get to the apartment, Corbin is either watching sports on the television or sketching on the kitchen island. I'm exhausted by the time I arrive, so I go to bed immediately.

I wish I could say that I am like most of my teammates and that I somehow managed to reserve an hour or two each day to be somewhat social, but I feel like I'm constantly running against time. Most days I don't even know if it's a Monday or a Friday, there's no time to breathe. I can barely fulfill the promise I made to my mother of calling her every day.

I didn't tell her about how I fainted last week, and I don't believe Corbin told his mother either. Had he told Lucy, I would have a very annoying mother begging me to go to the hospital. Especially now that she's coming to see my regatta, I cannot have her freaking out around me.

The thought of having my family in Seattle in a few weeks it's the biggest source of stress right now. My parents will want to be around me every single second of every day, trying to find bags under my eyes or a slouch in my posture, any signal that will indicate that I am tired and that I should've gone back home to their side. Unfortunately, I'm starting to agree with them.

The worst part is that my parents aren't the only ones to come. Lucy and Hugh Paxton are also on their way, and whilst they're like family to me and I love them as such, they can be hard to please. With sons like Miles and Corbin — they're literally perfect — they've gotten used to perfection. Lucy cannot stand messes, people poorly dressed or bad manners; Hugh could never understand my decision to choose the University of Washington when UPenn was just around the corner from home. They're the epitome of traditional, rich, white folks.