OFF TRACK

3

SUMMER

"Your flirting is dated," I tease, turning on my side, bringing my feet up on the bench. Forgetting about my essay as I let my phone sit in my lap.

"Wow, you really know how to make a man swoon," he laughs.

"Thank you, I've got a lot of practice," I nod.

"Well then give a me some tips."

I pretend like I'm thinking, but truth is I have no moves. I fumble every time a guy shows any interest in me.

"I don't know if you're worthy of 'em," I glare at him.

He studies my face for a second, "You've got none, huh?"

"I do!" I protest, "They're more of seal the deal moves."

"Like what?" He smiles. He's got a sweet soft smile that makes something inside me spark. His lips look soft and inviting. I'm tipsy enough to want to lean forward and kiss him but still sober enough to not actually do it.

I shrug leaning forward, wrapping my arms around my legs, pulling them to my chest.

"Damn," his eyes are on my arms, the thing I'm most insecure about. I instantly sit back up so my arms can go back into a relaxed state.

"No," he shook his head, "Flex for me."

"No," I don't move my arms.

"Dude," he's almost begging and my insides go fuzzy, "Please."

I sigh and hold up one of my arms, flexing, "I'm a dancer," I answer the question he probably wants to know. I relax my arm, going back to sitting with my arms around my legs so I can rest my head on my knees.

"Where?" he asks almost in awe.

"UCLA," I answer.

He shakes his head, "Thats a damn shame."

"Why?" I sit up slightly offended, I love my school.

"Because as a Trojan," I know exactly where he's going with it now, "I can't let people know I've been talking with the enemy."

I roll my eyes, our schools have had this stupid rivalry for ages, "Don't worry, I don't want anyone knowing I was talking one of you," I say sarcastically.

He laughs, then changes the topic, "Are you majoring in dance? Because with those arms you should be!"

I shake my head with a small laugh, "English," I answer, and then continue for no reason, "I wanna be an English teacher."

I don't want to be an English teacher, my mom wants me to be an English teacher and I do whatever she wants so she stays happy.

"What grade do you wanna teach?" he asks.

"I'm not sure yet," I answer honestly, "But probably older kids."

And finally my saving grace calls my name from across the yard. I look over and Ellie's standing waving at me.

"I would say it was nice talking to you," I smile at him as I stand up, the lower my voice, "But you're a Trojan," I wink then turn on my toes, walking away from him.

"What were you two talking about?" Ellie asks with a hopeful smile when I finally meet up with her.

"Nothing," I shrug, "You have fun up there?" Her blond hair is messier and her lips are swollen.

"I did," she smirks, "Wanna go home?"

"Please," I sigh.

The next day I'm up early for work, which is followed by a three hour practice. By the time I get home everything aches, I take a long hot shower letting my body relax.

"Summer?" Ellie's soft voice echos from behind our bathroom door.

"What?" I called back stepping out from under the water with my eyes still closed, trying to stay relaxed.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Sleeping until tomorrow morning," I answer because truly the only thing on my mind is laying under my big cozy comforter and sleeping until my next alarm.

"Bri and Amanda wanna go get drinks."

Knowing Bri and Amanda, two girls from the dance team, drinks is never just drinks, it's drinks and then somehow being out until two am, followed by a gnarly hangover the next day.

I groan but quiet enough so she won't hear.

"I'm gonna pass, sorry," I respond.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive!" I'm a bit more stern when I reply this time.

And with that she doesn't answer so assume that she's gone back to her room to get ready.

I finally force myself out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel and make my way into my room. I toss my towel over the bathroom door while I slide on a pair of shorts and a hoodie with our school's letters stitched on the front.

I quickly make a cup of tea in the kitchen, wanting to avoid anymore human interactions.

Our little off-campus apartment holds four of us, Ellie and I. Than Lily and Violet, two girls from the soccer team. We're all so busy we hardly ever cross paths, but they're easy to live with, clean and quiet. Lily and I went to high school together we weren't super close but were still friends, and it's nice to have someone to make the long drives home to San Jose with.

And finally I'm in bed, even though getting comfortable is impossible, my legs still feel like jell-o and my back hurts. But I finally find a comfortable position to lay in.

As I'm scrolling on instagram and Trevor pops into my mind, does he have an account? I type his first name into the search bar, "Shit," I mumble to myself.

What was his last name? I know Ellie said it but if I ask her she'll get excited and start plotting things that don't need to happen.

I find myself switching to google, and type in 'USC hockey team'. The first result is their schedule, the second is the roster, so I click it. I scroll through the teams's roster scanning for Trevor, and recognize the guy Ellie hooked up with. I'll admit it, he's cute.

Speaking of, I need to ask Ellie more about what happened there.

I keep scrolling and find the other guy that had been with the boys. I keep scrolling through the roster, and ah-ha! There he is, St. Claire.

I switch back to instagram and type it into the search bar and his account pops up. There's not many posts to scroll through and most of them are hockey related so theres not much information to gain. There's also a few posts with a guy and a girl who seem to be his siblings.

Okay I can't be too judgey, my own instagram isn't much better, it's maybe twenty posts of dance content and like two random beach photos.

What am I doing?

I exit out of the search. Than roll over to the other side, and scroll on my phone until my eye lids get so heavy I have to set my phone on my bedside table and fall asleep.