Mia Hill. College bound with an athletic scholarship. A go-getter with big dreams and a fully thought out plan to make sure they come true.
But with her father's release from prison looming and the inevitable stresses of adulting, everything she wa...
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Today hasn't been the worst day. Sure, having Grayson being the world's most obnoxious shadow wasn't the greatest start. He was knowingly trying to make a point, but he was on time for once, so the outcome was worth the annoyance, mostly.
And though I don't actually want to admit it, his knack for precisely bending the rules actually worked out. The kids had fun, and that's what's most important. Not that I condone throwing the camp plan out the window, but being in the woods gave them way more than any search around buildings.
My afternoon wasn't half bad either, seeing as I got to stay outside, running some games. I don't mind the indoor stuff, but there's something to be said about being outside, a sense of freedom and boundless escape that the confines of a room doesn't quite provide.
I bend down to throw the last jersey into the netted bag, waving to Kristen, my fellow leader for the afternoon. Seeing as all that's left is to carry the equipment bag to the shed, I offered to handle the rest.
The subtle buzz of my phone vibrating against my side has me pausing briefly. Ben's name plays across the screen and I can't help but check the time. It's not unusual for him to call me right after my day is done, but I'm usually back at the house before he's calling.
"Hey," I answer, resting the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I throw the bag of equipment over my arm.
"Hi," he responds in a quiet voice, one lacking his usual pep.
I continue my way to the shed. "Can I call you back in like twenty minutes?" I question, ignoring the fact that he's still quiet. "I'm just cleaning up my station and then I'm heading back to the house with June."
"Uh," he begins, still quiet and unsure. "Can we just talk for a minute?"
I drop the bag into the shed, closing and locking the door before wiping a small layer of sweat from my forehead. "Okay," I let out.
"So," his hesitant voice drags the word out as I wait for whatever it is that has to be said right now. "We've been together for awhile now, right?"
I scan the field, checking to make sure I picked everything up before I make my way to the solo bench that occupies the tiniest bit of shade. "Yeah," I acknowledge without actually doing the math of how long it's been. Ben is usually the one to keep me aware of the quantitative value of our relationship.
"Eight months," he states, giving me the exact number I was lacking.
"Yeah," I agree again. "That's a good while." Did I miss a milestone again? I swear I had no idea a six month anniversary was a thing. I thought it was all based on years, and quite frankly, I thought that was something married couples kept track of. But Ben is the sentimental type, something I learned pretty quickly. If I had known eight months was also a thing, I would have done something for him.
"I love you, Mia," he mumbles the words, placing them in the atmosphere like he has so many times before. This one feels different though. It feels like it's hinging on a response. One he knows I'm not ready to give.
