Cheeky

№ 14. Warm On A Cold Night

Academics had always been my first skill and talent. Perhaps my only talent. I could make a pretty mean peanut butter and banana sandwich. At least I'll never starve. But when it came to instruments I was lost. In fifth grade I picked up the trumpet, wasn't too shabby either...I thought. Yet all the notes and keys and chapped lips ceased to be interesting, so I traded in my trumpet for Algebra.

Mom then tried to turn me on to dance, which didn't last very long. To this day my left foot moves a little funny. And Dad tried pushing me into softball, which resulted in an angry little league coach with a black eye and my promise to never participate in sports again. But that promise didn't last long when I ended up on varsity for volleyball at my high school. I ended up meeting Jeremy who was the track all-star of our high school.

He would sit in the bleachers of our gym with his friends and watch the girls' volleyball team practice. And even after his friends left, Paul, Jimmy, and Tom, he would still stay. He would watch and cheer. The girls would blush but I never indulged him with a reaction. He was only there because we had obviously gone through puberty and were dressed in only sports bras and booty shorts. Not my fault that volleyball required such uniform.

After every practice the girls would fawn over him but I went straight home. It was probably my first mistake, that day in the parking lot. I was walking towards my car; I had thrown on a tee but left my hideously sexist shorts on. Unlocking the car, I burrowed inside my bag for my sports drink, but groaned when I realized I had left it outside the locker room.

I was always forgetting things, and in this case with Jeremy I had forgotten my self-worth. As soon as I turned to head back, he was there. He was always waiting and something about him reminded me of a predator. But that was because he was exactly that. Women were dispensable to him. At the time I didn't know any better.

"Hi."

I looked up to find Jeremy a mere few feet away, leaning against a parking lot light, his arms crossed in his track letterman jacket. He always wore the best sneakers and had the best hair. And his smile was killer. He knew how to make me laugh.

"...Hi," I said a little uneasily.

This kid gave me the weirdest mix of feelings, and I didn't quite know how to go about him.

"You're a great player, you know?"

"Thanks, I guess."

"No really, you're great."

I gave him a small smile as I readjusted my bag. He thought I was great? He wore a cool expression and I was prepared to melt. But I couldn't let him get to me.

"Well I have to go, I'll see you around-"

"-Jeremy. "

I gave myself a mental high five, that's right, let him think he's just like everyone else. I get in my car as gracefully as possible but then I remembered the stupid sports drink. The janitor would throw it away - it was in my favorite bottle. First world problems at their finest.

"Cassidy?"

I turned at the sound of my name to find Jeremy leaning one forearm against the open window of my driver's side door. He knew my name. He was peering inside but when he had gotten my attention he set his gaze back on me. And his eyes were gorgeous. Hazel and energetic. He knew my name.

"I think you forgot something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," and he lifted up my sports drink for me to see.

My mouth twitched and I couldn't help but smile, "Thank you."

I reached out for it but he pulled back, his eyes glinting mischievously.