Boundless Love

Chapter Seven - Wet Drapery

The drive to my apartment was quick, and as soon as I stepped through my door I was hit with a wave of tiredness. School, football practice, geography project with Lizaveta, then visiting with my family? Long day. Kicking off my boots I stumble through my one-bedroom apartment with a one-track mind on getting to bed. Shirt and jeans off. Sweat pants on. Brush teeth. Sleep. 

******

Getting up for school with only six and a half hours of sleep was the highlight of my morning. After having car trouble and being late for my first period, I realized I'd left my backpack at home. Some kid ran straight into me during the passing time between wood shop and math class. And now? Now, I was covered in some dude's lunch. Are you kidding me?

"Yo, dude!" I take a step back from the boy and hold my shirt away from my chest, disgusted. 

"Sorry man, my bad. I wasn't watching where I was going," he apologizes as he scrambles to pick up his tray from the ground. 

"No kidding," I release a frustrated breath. "Great."

I take off towards the men's room in a huff, ignoring the string of apologies still coming from the kid, and all the people staring at me. Just great. I clench the hand not holding out my shirt and grind my teeth in an effort to keep myself somewhat under control. 

Pushing open the bathroom door in haste, I quickly pull off my shirt and throw it onto the floor in a huff. I drag my hands through my hair and down my face, rubbing my jaw. I go through all my options: going home for a new shirt, calling my mom to bring me a new one, or wearing this stained, dirty one. My dad has the car though, and he's at work, so I can't call my mom, and I'm already having trouble with my truck...

"Cayden?" I hear Lizzy's soft voice from outside the door. 

"Screw off! I'm already having a shi- crap day," I correct myself. 

"Cayden, stop being a prick." When I don't respond, ignoring her, she continues. "Run your shirt through the cold water from the sink, it'll get the stain out."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me, but do it anyway. To my surprise, the red sauce from the boys spaghetti starts coming out rather quickly. 

"Yay. A wet T-shirt instead of a stained one," I deadpan, letting her know I'm clearly still not happy. 

"Bring this to him, yeah?" I hear her tell someone as the door opens. I turn around and see Owen come in with a large black sweater. 

"That's not gonna fit me," I say without even looking at it. I'm a lot bigger than Owen. 

"Try it, man, come one," Owen says, holding out the hoodie for me to take. 

I rip it out of his hands and hold it up, checking the tag. Men's Large. I glare at Owen as I pull the hoodie over my head, immediately being swarmed with a sweet smell. Lizaveta. 

"Dude, you spend way too much time with your girl. Her smell is all over your stuff." I continue washing my shirt, wringing it out after the stain is removed completely. 

"Whatever man," Owen rolls his eyes before clapping me on the back and leaving. 

I swing my damp shirt over my shoulder before running a hand through my hair and letting out a heavy sigh. Well, shit. I take a few intentional deep breaths to calm myself before checking the time on my watch. Seeing that I've got twenty minutes left of lunch, I leave the bathroom and head back toward the lunch line. 

I go through the motions of getting my food before joining my football friends at our regular table. We make idle talk of our last game, our upcoming game, and girls before I dump my tray and overhear Brygida bragging about his nonexistent football skills at his table.