The Delivery Boy

PART TWO: Late Nights, Queries & Impromptu Dates

PART TWO: Late Nights, Queries & Impromptu Dates;

Central Park is nice in any kind of weather, but the next morning after first meeting Colby, I had wanted to light every tree in the vicinity on fire. Partly because the trees were blocking the chilly breeze that would help cool the sweat off my face, and also because, being particularly pissed off from a particular phone call with a particular person, my mind was a scatter as the opposing team was constantly scoring goals. After finally peeling himself away from Bonnie, Harry approached me with only one motive. Well, actually a couple of motives. One of which was to break me down to build me up, or in simpler terms, verbally fuck me up enough to have the aggressive side of me takeover.

   It was half time when Harry ran his sweaty self towards me, stood in the goal having an internal conflict with my psyche. He swiped the sweat from his forehead and ran a hand through his brunette and blonde locks. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Anja?” he yelled, hitting a goal post with his fist. “God, three goals already, come on! Do you wanna switch or what?”

   I was almost ready to kick my studded boots into his precious manhood. Too bad I didn’t, because I really thought him and his constant douchebaggery deserved it. I sighed, beginning to make my way towards the opposite side of the field, “Look, just lay off, alright? I didn’t get enough goddamn sleep last night, so just don’t.”

   “Oh, busy last night, were we? I see now,” he quirked his eyebrows as he followed me, while I replied with a death glare. This was one of his other motives: embarrass me by mentioning the phone call. “Yeah, alright, Bonnie and Isla told me already. But that’s still no excuse for your sucky goalkeeping skills right now.”

   I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll get my shit together, buttfuck.” I could hear him smiling beside me; I didn’t even need to use my peripherals. He ruffled my hair and ran past me to catch up with Tate and another teammate named Frank. Our football club was unisex, just to clear things up. And as I made my way across the field, tightening my gloves and retying my hair into a messy bun, I recalled the phone call that had me three hours out of sleep. Yes, that is by far the longest phone call I have ever had, with a person that did not need to deliver me food within twenty minutes. It went a little something like this.

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Friday 14 May, 2347 hours.

*PHONE RINGS*

   ANJA:(Picks up phone and moves into the kitchen, a considerable distance from sleepover central. Caller ID reads: Colbaee<3) “Hello?”

   COLBY: “Hello, beautiful. How is your Friday night so far?”

   ANJA: (Crinkles eyebrows at realization of who the Australian accent belongs to, after a few seconds of pondering) “What? Excuse me? How did you get my number?”

   COLBY: “So an apprehensive night for you, ay?” (Chuckles) “Alright, well, your friend Krissy did the grand gesture of offering up your number – without your permission, I’m assuming.”

   ANJA: “You assumed correct.” (Pinches bridge of nose to relieve tension – tension created by good friend, Krissy)

   COLBY: “How’s life so far, Anja? Is everything coming up waters for you?”

   ANJA: (Sighs) “Uh, currently it seems as if I’m floating in an endless ocean murky shit without an oar nor a lifejacket.”