Page 6 of Unfix Me

He spun in a circle, which triggered a wave of nausea in my exhausted state. When he finally put me back on my feet, he grabbed my biceps to keep me steady.

“You’re disgusting,” he said, wrinkling his nose. He looked at the damp spot on his shoulder. “Gross.”

“Don’t pick people up when they’re sweaty.”

He grinned and swiped the ball from the place I’d dropped it. “Why are you practicing alone?”

“You were busy.”

“Aw. Jealous, baby?”

I rolled my eyes and tried to grab the ball, but he pivoted. My fist connected with his stomach and when he bent forward, I took the opportunity to steal it from him and sent it flying across the field.

“Damn, you’re a grump,” he groaned. “What’s going on?”

“Just practicing and getting harassed by you, as usual.”

West stroked the stubble on his jaw. It made him look like a Victorian-era man in his study, contemplating science and the universe. When his bright blue eyes met mine, there was understanding there.

“I’ll throw, you catch,” he said before he took off. He turned around and started jogging backward with a wry smile. “Even though I know that you like to throw.”

I held up my middle finger. His laugh carried across thirty yards and I couldn’t help but smile. West was a bit of a bastard and very much an attention whore, but he knew when I wanted to talk. Even better, he knew when I didn’t. He was privy to what was going on since he was almost as much a part of my family as I was. I was grateful that he didn’t feel the need to make me address it.

The ball came toward me and I headed in the direction it would land. When it was in my hands, I felt a rush of satisfaction. There was something beautiful, almost healing, about this. Maybe it was because some of my first memories involved me holding a football. Or it could be the simple wholesomeness of being around West when it was just the two of us. No expectations and we could just exist while doing something we both enjoyed.

As we continued to throw the ball, my mind shifted to thoughts of our future here. Between football and classes, I could only hope that we had time to do other things. I didn’t want us to grow apart.

I wasn’t jealous that West had other friends already. He was my brother in everything but blood. I just didn’t want things to change too much.

“Bro, where’s your head?”

I refocused and found West jogging toward me with his arms up in a ‘What the hell?’ gesture. The ball was a few yards behind me and I’d completely missed it.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

He grabbed the ball, then paused in front of me. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving and you look like shit.”

Now that he said it, I realized how hungry I was. I’d been out here for hours and I probably smelled like the dead. With a nod, I started heading back toward campus. West chattered the whole way, going on about all the people he met today and how he was nervous that his roommate didn’t like him already.

“You’re worrying for nothing,” I assured him. “Everybody likes you.”

There was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He cleared it quickly and launched into another story about his disdain for shared bathrooms. I think we all agreed with that sentiment.

Chapter 3

Sen

Mom:Happy first day!

Sen:Thanks.

Mom:Are you excited?!

Sen:I guess. I’ll let you know how it goes.

When I put my phone down, I resumed my previous activity: freaking out about shared bathrooms. I wasn’t self-conscious by any means. In fact, I was pretty confident when my anxiety wasn’t being a dick to me. This was weird, though.

Showering wasn’t really the issue. There were individual stalls in there, so I wouldn’t be hanging loose in front of everybody. It still wasn’t ideal, but it paled in comparison to something like using the bathroom. It felt like prison, being forced to take a shit where everybody can hear and smell it.

---