Call It What You Want To

Chapter 9: Taya

I slept in late the next morning, letting the rhythm of the rain hitting my windows keep me in a deep sleep. So late, in fact, that I woke up to a text from Kyler saying that she was leaving and would be over in about a half hour. I sprung out of bed, completely forgetting the plans I had agreed to, and started to fix myself into a slightly more presentable version. I debated bailing on her and saying that I wasn't feeling good or that I had my calendar wrong and I was supposed to go lift this morning, but I had already had enough lies occur in the last week that surrounded this girl, I didn't need to keep adding to the list.

Despite sleeping for almost a solid ten hours, I still felt absolutely wiped out. I went to the football game last night, and thought that the powerlifting team and a couple other people were gonna all go and we'd have fun. I was not aware that a few people's definition of "fun" was a water bottle of straight, cherry vodka. While I didn't drink any, I found out the hard way that some of the people I was with become absolute assholes when they're drunk.

I splashed some water on my face in a weak attempt to wash off the previous night before taking a makeup wipe to clear up the rest of my face. Leaning over the sink, and doing my best to get a grip, I heard the special knock my dad and I did on my bathroom door. I shook off my hands and kicked back the door with my foot to lightly open it.

"Hey kid, how was the game?" my dad asked, leaned against the door with Mila in his arms. She was grabbing at dust particles in the air that were being illuminated by the weak sunlight slipping through my window.

"We lost, if that's what you're asking," I chuckled, trying to avoid the obvious disaster that happened last night with everyone.

"How bad?" my dad asked with a wince.

"Almost 50 points!" I told him, actually laughing. "We sucked comedicaly bad!"

My dad and I had always bonded over football, ever since he took me to my first NFL game when I was five at Soldier Field. I was going to the high school football games when I was in elementary school, and my early twelfth birthday present was actually tickets to the SuperBowl. It's the little perks of having a very lowkey, famous dad.

"Oh there's donuts downstairs for you and your friend. It's Kylee, right?" my dad asked, adjusting Mila to a different grasp.

"Kyler, and thank you," I said with a smile.

"Kyler, right. Sorry."

I tried to find an out for the conversation, because Kyler was supposed to be here in ten minutes and I was still in my pajama shorts and no bra. Luckily my dad got the hint when I checked the time on my phone, and he left with Mila.

"We're gonna be leaving in about a half hour, make your list if you need anything!" he yelled as he started to go down the stairs. Mila screamed with him because she loved to try and mimic people. Which, as usual, turned into my dad and Mila taking turns "yelling" at each other.

I made the quick change into a bra, oversized t-shirt, and leggings just before I got the text from Kyler saying she was here, asking where she should park. I told her to just go behind the truck and that I'd meet her downstairs. Maverick greeted me on the stairs, just in case I wasn't aware that there was someone in our driveway.

"Hi, yes, I know. Someone's here, thank you!" I played with him as Mav jumped up on me. I stopped at the downstairs window and saw Kyler moving around in her car before getting out. Maverick almost pushed me out of the way when I was opening the door, but at least he knew to stay on the porch with his "tippy taps".

Through the light rain that was coming down over the cloudy October sky, Kyler's smile lit up when she saw Maverick and I waiting for her. Her teeth were almost sparkling white while she grinned, before slinging a backpack over her shoulder and holding up two iced coffees from Dunkin', cheesy grin still plastered on.