Strike (Cake) [Completed] (#Wattys2017)

2: Not My Type

            His lungs were starting to burn about a quarter mile before he got back to his dorm hall. He could walk the rest of the way. The day had heated up really quickly. He took off his shirt and pressed it to the back of his neck. He messed up his hair and swiped it out of his eyes. A girl walking the opposite direction smiled coyly at him as she passed by. He half-smiled back, trying to look uninterested, but she stopped just in front of him and said, "Hey. Do I know you from somewhere?"

            Absolutely not. Go away, please. "Uh...I don't think so."

            "Are you sure we didn't have stats together? Last year?" She flipped her hair.

            Oh boy. She probably used this every time. Calum looked off to the side, trying to find somewhere else to be. But as much as he hated people, for reasons exactly like these, he was still nice to them because he didn't know what else to do. "I actually haven't even taken statistics yet. You must have me confused with someone else. Sorry, I've gotta—"

            "Are you sure? You look so familiar. I think I would remember this face." She reached up and touched his cheek. He flinched.

            "No, I'm sure. I'm sorry. I really need to get going." And he awkwardly sidestepped around her and left.

            Thank God that's over.

            "Cal! Hey!"

            Great.

            It was Chad, the first-string left forward and stopper on the team. He jogged over to Calum. He'd been out for a run as well, apparently.

            "Hi, Chad." Calum put his shirt back on.

            "What's going on, man?" Chad clapped him on the back.

            Calum didn't like Chad. If there was ever a cliché jock, Chad was him. He was big and too muscular, especially for a football player. And he was cocky and full of himself and acted like all the other guys on the team were bugs. Calum really didn't like Chad.

            "Just running," he said, wishing he hadn't stopped in the first place. He could have been safely back in his dorm taking a hot shower by now.

            "Yeah, I can see that, buddy. But what's up with that girl back there? She was all up on you. You just blew her off?"

            "Uhh..." Calum looked back. The girl was gone. "She wasn't really my type."

            "Hot girls aren't your type." It was a statement, not a question.

            Calum just shrugged.

            Chad looked at him right in the eyes for a while. His forehead protruded a little. Calum thought he looked like a modernized Neanderthal. Calum blinked and looked away. He wasn't one for pointless confrontation.

            "Whatever, man," Chad finally said. "Maybe you should rethink your taste." Calum looked at him. What was he saying? Chad shook his head. "Some people might...disagree."

            And Chad left without clapping him on the shoulder again like he always did. Calum shook his head and jogged back to his dorm.

            After a shower and his favorite t-shirt—a blue one that said MAINE—he played bass for twenty minutes, then went to that day's classes.

He met Peter in the locker room just as he finished changing. The other boys were getting ready to go out on the field.

            "What goes on, Cal?" Peter greeted him. "Feeling it today, too?"