Page 48 of Blitz

I miss my best friend. If Mason was my world, Micah was my moon. He balanced me out. We worked together, we worked out together, we did everything together. He was my best friend from the very first day we met.

That’s why it hurt so much when he dropped me after the breakup. I didn’t realize her dumping me meant he would, too. I lost my two closest friends in one fell swoop, in the course of dissolving the relationship I thought would last forever.

Maybe she was insecure. Maybe she couldn’t have handled it. I know myself: I wasn’t about to cheat on her with all of the college girls hanging out at football parties. I was devoted solely to her.

We’re dating, I finally text him. We’re together again.

He types something, then erases it. When he finally sends the message, I have to blink.

Fucking finally!

So you’re happy?

I’m fucking ecstatic, Micah writes. Glad you two finally pulled your heads out of your asses.

Thank you?

It’ll be just like old times. The three musketeers. We’re going to party our faces off next week.

Chapter twenty

Mason

My study group meets in the psychology library, a small offshoot of the humanities and social sciences libraries. It’s a small meeting room with six desks and tables, a few computers, and some shelves of textbooks and reference books. There’s also a printer where we can print twenty free pages a day. It’s become my home away from home, a quiet little sanctuary where I can escape the hubbub of the track team house or the ASC and surround myself with other like-minded people.

I show up to study group at 10:58. I’m freshly showered and wearing clean clothes, which is not the case for all of my study buddies. One girl is clearly hungover, pounding Gatorade like her life depends on it. A guy is wearing sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt that smells like he slept in it. We’re a mess.

We crack open our abnormal psychology textbooks and crank out two chapters’ worth of review. It’s slow going. Jack has an anecdote about every single case. Dvora constantly thinks she might need to be diagnosed with whatever new disorder we’re reviewing. And Rachael? She chomps on her gum so loudly, I might strangle her.

I don’t have time to think about Tucker. My body aches with the pleasant soreness that comes after a night of vigorous sex. I missed sex. I missed sex with him.

But I can’t think about him. If I think about him, I’m going to doubt myself, and if I start doubting myself, I’m going to spiral into a web of anxiety I don’t think I can pull myself out of.

Are we making the right decision?

He keeps repeating that he loves me, like he’s afraid I’m going to forget. He seems to need constant reassurance that I feel the same. I do.

I think I do.

It was so much easier to date in high school. The rules were clear: hold hands in the hallway, make out at lunch, go to each other’s sporting events. Wear his sweatshirt to warn all the other guys to back off, to let all the other girls know he was off limits. We’d go to parties on Friday nights and hang out with the other football players and cheerleaders. We’d go to the movies on Saturday nights and then to the diner for a milkshake and French fries before sneaking home minutes before curfew.

There was a routine. It made sense.

Dating in college is... different. Neither of us have paying jobs—we can’t, not while being student athletes and keeping up with our insane practice and competition schedule. All of our meals take place in the dining hall. Sure, there are parties every night, but I don’t think Tucker is the type of guy who goes out drinking and living it up. He said it himself: he hangs out with his roommates and plays video games.

I don’t know that I want to become a reclusive shut-in with him. I like my friends. I like going to parties. And, yes, I like drinking. Last weekend was an aberration. Normally, I know where to draw the line. While I might get drunk, I don’t get blitzed. It was a blip. It won’t happen again.

Everything about Georgetown was a mistake. I made too many mistakes there. Coming to Newton was supposed to give me a fresh start, and for the most part, it did. I made new friends. I surrounded myself with better influences. I’m taking classes I enjoy, learning things I’m interested in. I’m going to take the GRE and get into grad school.

And now I have a boyfriend again. It should thrill me. I should be ecstatic. This is what I wanted, Tucker back in my life.

Instead I just feel hollow.

Micah sends me a wall of text, which means he’s worked up and anxious like he was last week when he thought he’d fail out of school. I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with him right now. He sends a second text in quick succession, so I pick up my phone to skim.

Why didn’t you tell me your plan worked?? I had to hear it from him.

Tucker told Micah? Tucker and Micah are talking again?? On the walk back to Athlete’s Village, I call my brother. He answers on the first ring.