Can't Stand You

Practice Makes You Perfect Except in Coach's Eyes

Edited (6/16/20)

The light that streamed through the gaps of the blinds was my alarm clock the next morning. I peeled back one eyelid to find morning sunlight bathing the room in a warm yellow. I couldn't help but squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to get a few more minutes of sleep, but the brightness of the room and the impending thought of the first practice today didn't allow me to drift back. Instead, I laid still staring at the ceiling. I was far less anxious than I was yesterday, but my stomach still churned as I thought about every single thing that could go wrong today. It was probably the least helpful thing I could be doing right now, but those thoughts would not go away. 

I glanced over at Miles, who was still sound asleep like nothing could go wrong. He was sleeping on his side, faced towards me, with one arm under his head and the other wrapped over his torso. His perfectly styled hair from yesterday was now sticking out in multiple directions. I had to admit that in that moment, he looked pretty adorable.

Adorable? Where did that come from? I shook my head of the ridiculous thought and reminded myself of the conceited jerk that was occupying that bed. Pushing myself out of bed, I shuffled across the room to find the items I needed for the bathroom. I opened and closed the door as quietly as I could to not wake up Miles. It was still early and I had no desire to talk to him quite yet. I crossed my fingers that no one was inside the bathroom and luckily no one was. 

I took my time brushing my teeth and putting in my contacts for the day. I washed my face and hoped that the circles under my eyes would fade eventually. After putting on some face lotion with SPF so my face wouldn't burn, I was satisfied. 

My hair was another matter. It looked like a rat's nest of knots and twists. My hairbrush barely got through it the whole way. I drenched the brush in some water before working through the strands again, attempting to smooth the gnarled mess on my head. When it was untangled enough to run my hand through, I pulled all of it into a pony tail on top of my head. 

"There," I said to the mirror.

I looked somewhat presentable, so I called it good for this morning. Heading back to the room, I found Miles still asleep. I let the door slam close but he didn't even flinch at the noise.  

"Miles," I called from across the room. No response. I guess he was a heavy sleeper.

We needed to be down at practice in 15 minutes and Miles didn't look like he was going anywhere any time soon. As funny as it would be for him to sleep through the first practice, I had a feeling that everyone would be feeling the repercussion of Miles being late. The little angel and devil on either shoulder bickered back and forth for several seconds while I contemplated what to do. I knew I wasn't that mean to leave him behind and I had no desire to do extra running on Miles' account. I begrudgingly moved towards his bed to wake Sleeping Beauty. 

"Miles," I called again as I got closer. Still nothing. I reached a hand out and poked him in the shoulder, immediately drawing my hand back to safety. He didn't move an inch. "Dude really?" I snapped at his still form. 

My patience was wearing thin and the idea of leaving him was becoming more tantalizing. I decided to give it one more try before I left him to fend for himself. 

Whenever my mom woke me up in the morning, she usually sat down on the edge of the bed and gave my arm a shake. Deciding that it was worth a try, I sat down on the very edge of his bed and shook his arm. His very well toned, muscly arm. Holy crap! His biceps are huge.

Really, Gloria? Really?

Miles shrugged his shoulder, but his eyes stayed shut. Letting my temper get the best of me, I snapped at him. "Get up! We need to go. I don't want to be late the first day."