Worth the Chase

chapter one

RYAN

Sat in the kitchen of my brownstone apartment nursing a mimosa dressed in high-waisted black jean shorts and a purple UNC crop top, I wait for the girls to come down as I scroll through my phone. My dark hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail with a few strands framing my face, my makeup minimal with the exception of my bright red lipstick.

Though I spent the entirety of the week reviewing my application and finally submitting it last night, I can't help but go over it again to make sure everything's perfect. I recheck my status, make sure the application payment went through with no complication, and I've submitted my supporting documents; I even read through my letter of intent again.

I hate the wait between applying and getting back a decision. Barely a month into my senior year, I'm already stressed about my GPA as I hound my academic advisor to confirm I have all my credits to graduate in time for this May and my letter of recommendation.

I swivel my head towards the front hallway when the front stairs creak. A few seconds pass before Bailey Nicholson enters the kitchen doorway, shaking her head at me with a stern pout. She's often been the one to catch me stressing over my application, and though she recently applied to grad school herself, she isn't as concerned as I am.

Dressed in her boyfriend's UNC hockey jersey, which falls just above her knees, she curled her dirty blonde hair into loose beach waves which fall just past her shoulders. Her pale cheeks are reddened with blush, her makeup covering up the brownish-tan freckles that usually spot the bridge of her nose and shallow cheekbones.

"Stop stressing over your application." She says, sauntering across the tiled floor and grabbing the bottle of champagne I left unopened on the granite countertop.

I groan, tossing my head back and dropping my phone onto the breakfast table, "I know, but I can't help it. What if I missed something?"

"Babe, you have until January to submit anything you missed. It's not like they won't accept you just because you didn't attach a doc at the time of submission," she takes a sip. Her thin, perfectly shaped brow arches as she shifts her forest-green eyes towards me.

I shrug, my lips curving into a sheepish smile, "I know, but I can't help worrying."

She laughs, taking the seat next to me, "I know, but Mia and I both looked over your application, and there's nothing wrong with it. So, trust me and stop worrying. IT'S HOCO!" She cheers, chugging the rest of her drink.

Homecoming is one of the many things I love about the University of North Cardill—or UNC for short, as the students call it. Located in a small town named Cardill, just a few hours south of Pittsburgh, the school is notoriously known for its football games and players. 

I haven't been the biggest fan of football for a while now. However, I admire and stand by the idea of the entire campus coming together for a weekend regardless of our program or what we like to support one another and our football team.

"You look hot, by the way," I point towards her 'dress.' It's one of her boyfriend's older jerseys, one he quickly outgrew.

She waves me off, "Says you." Crossing her long slender legs, she asks, "Where's Mia?"

I point to the ceiling, "Still hasn't come down yet."

Bailey shakes her head before belting out, "MEENA NO MIDDLE NAME SHETTY, IF YOU AREN'T DOWN IN 2 SECONDS, WE'RE LEAVING YOUR ASS HERE." Mia—short for Meena—is the shy one of the three of us and the most reserved. While Bailey is the most laid back and outgoing. I somehow fall between the two of them.

I hear her rushed footsteps running down the stairs before she pops into the kitchen, trying to catch her breath. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," she huffs.

Her thick curly black hair is pinned into two space buns as her bangs shape her face, and her dark eyes are covered in eyeliner. Her lips are coated with maroon lipstick, which compliments her tawny-coloured skin with bronze undertones. She's wearing dark ripped boyfriend jeans with fishnets underneath and a baggy white UNC shirt which she knotted to appear cropped.

"I was talking to my mom and couldn't get her off the phone."

Mia's mom is very protective of Mia; she calls every day to check in on her to make sure she's doing okay. Rather than it being because she doesn't trust her, it's because she wants to ensure she's doing well on her own.

"My bad," Bailey apologizes. We respect Mrs. Shetty and never want to give her the impression that Mia isn't doing well here and worry her unnecessarily.

She shakes her head, "It's all good. I already ended the call when you called for me, just fixing my lipstick."

"All right, what do we have?" She claps her hands, heading toward me as I down my second glass. I can already feel the light flush wash over me.

"Ryan, you lightweight, slow down so you aren't passing out by mid-afternoon," Mia chuckles. I roll my eyes, grabbing another glass of mimosa while Bailey holds up what she has left of her second glass of champagne, and Mia grabs a Smirnoff cooler.

"Here's to our last Homecoming as students and forgetting about our applications for a day," Bailey toasts and stares pointedly at me as I chuckle.

"To us," Mia joins.

I laugh, "And to getting fucked this weekend." We toast before downing our drinks.

. . .

After grabbing lunch at the campus pub, most of the crowd heads towards the stadium to watch the football game. While the three of us head to a party on 5th—the frat street known for the best on-campus parties. Each of us came prepared with our drinks so that we didn't have to rely on someone else for it.

After three years of this, we've perfected the art of conquering Homecoming.

Heading into the large frat house, we are met by loud music vibrating and pulsating throughout the house. Large clusters of people are already drunk though it's barely a little past noon. There's some cheering from the den, where I presume some people are watching the game. The three of us walk through the house, pushing past warm drunk bodies before heading outside into the backyard to see some people jumping into the pool.

Someone placed Smirnoff coolers in the pool and random places to ice people.

Bailey immediately spots her boyfriend, Chase Gibbons and runs off to him while Mia and I settle into the cushioned patio couches by the pool, relaxing back and enjoying the music. The sun beats down relentlessly, a thin layer of sweat glistening across my tan skin as my eyes remain hidden behind a pair of round sunglasses. A light summery breeze brushes my skin as I feel the alcohol simmering in my veins.

Suddenly, I'm engulfed in some shade. Peering up, Noah Bishop stands before me with a broad smile. Noah is Chase's teammate and is one of my best friends. He's dressed in a black UNC button-up baseball jersey which is snug around his toned arms, and ripped dark jeans. His cheeks are flushed, his whiskey-coloured eyes are bleary, and his light dishevelled hair is hidden behind a baseball cap.

"Hey, you," I pat the seat next to me, the breeze slightly too cold without the heat of the sun warming my skin. With a slight shake of his head, he settles into the seat as I shuffle down, stretching my legs.

"Hey Ryan." He has a bottle of beer in his large hand as he leans back, resting his head next to mine. "You weren't at pancake breakfast this morning," he pouts.

I scrunch my nose, turning my head to stare at the light freckles spotting his pointed nose. "Beer pancakes in the morning are not my thing, actually scratch that; beer pancakes, in general, are not my thing."

He chuckles, "Fair enough, but you should've come. I would've loved to see you." 

I'm aware of Noah's feelings for me, and I've never been one to string him along. I have told him numerous times that I didn't feel the same way, but he insists that he doesn't mind being friends.

"Well, I'm here now," I turn, staring out at the gleaming pool where girls swim in their panties, and the guys stand around debating on joining them.

He chuckles, unfazed, "Wanna join me for a game of beer pong?" I hesitate for a second before agreeing, dragging Mia along with me.