Page 11 of Pucking Grey

“That’s it?” I say, glancing at Sydney with a sarcastic squint in my eyes. “That’s it?” I throw my hands to wave him off. We walk away. “I’ll see you around, Greyson Cress.”

Sydney whispers, “You should probably get his number.”

I shrug. “It’s going to be okay, just like you said. Hey, Sydney.”

“Yeah,” she says.

“I don’t think I’m going to cry tonight. I think I’m okay.”

She rubs my back, proud of me. I scream because she’s untied my top in the process. I quickly grab the front half as I scream again because I feel the cool air and it feels like my shirt just fell off. Sydney and I burst into laughter when I pretend to flash the party. We’re about to fall over from laughing so hard.

“Oh my god, Grey is still there,” Sydney says.

“Oh, hey, Greyson,” I say, releasing my top. It’s hanging on my shoulders. He can’t see my boobs. Not yet. Not until I lift it.

Sydney grabs my top and waves at Greyson while tying it. “Don’t you dare show him your boobs. You keep these sexy things locked up. You hear me? He can’t ever see these beauties.”

“Good night,” I laugh, waving at him. She ties the top tight as hell as we get into her car. “You’re like the bestest friend ever, Syd.” She starts the car and blasts the heater. “Like seriously. I love you.”

Sydney looks over at me and laughs. “You almost just flashed Grey. Who are you?”

I stiffen my body and pretend I’m a popsicle stick. “I’m single,” I say in a funny voice.

We both laugh our heads off.

When we get to our house, we’re still laughing. She walks me to the bathroom and starts the shower. I remove my makeup while the steam fogs the mirrors. I get under the blazing hot stream, content with how tonight played out.

If only I could tell Sydney how wondrous this shower is, but she turned it on for me and left like I’m an incapable child. No, that’s exactly what she does. She’s a natural mother and I feel like I’m under her wing. She’s a real adult, going to make big changes in the world around her. She’s already changed my life, and that’s even more wondrous than this shower. I think that’s my new favorite word.

“Wondrous,” I say out loud with a smile on my face. Sydney is in her room when I enter mine. My room is not as decorated as hers, and I think it’s time to ask her for some genuine interior design tips. Maybe even tips on where to buy new clothes. I throw on an old tee I still have from high school and underwear and then I hop into bed. I’m the perfect amount of drunk. I’ll probably only have a headache tomorrow, but I can sleep soundly with no tears. Seeing Matt with his bimbo tonight comforted me, like maybe his cheating was because he fell for her. I will always root for true love no matter what.

The next morning, Sydney is already downstairs with coffee in her cup. She is far too energetic for a hangover. It’s obvious with her smile while looking in the cupboard for my coffee mug. She finds the only coffee mug I brought from home. It was a gift from my dad, a handmade mug with hand drawn blue checkers that is the same shade of blue as the hockey team I used to play for. My women’s hockey dream ended at the peak of thirteen. Nonetheless, this coffee mug filled with Sydney’s brew is by far my most precious everyday item. I cherish this mug more than many other things I own.

“So,” Sydney smiles. “We need to talk about last night.”

I take a sip from my mug and hold it tightly for the warmth. Her blend is always earthly with hints of cherry and dark chocolate. “I have homework I need to get to. We can talk about stupid boys later.”

She hums. “Okay.” Sydney has a scrunched nose and duck lips. The face that screams she knows something I don’t. I take my coffee mug, glancing at her through my messy blonde hair, and I walk up the stairs.

“Why’re you being so weird?” I ask, wondering what’s with the face.

“Nothing,” she prolongs.

I stop on the steps, giving her questionable eyes.

“We’ll talk later, babe,” she says, taking a sip of coffee as I continue the stairs.

When I enter my room, I place my coffee on top of my white dresser from Target and pull out the digital textbook on my iPad. An hour passes by the time my coffee mug is empty, and another hour is gone when I’m done with this assignment. I upload it, hitting submit and throwing my hands in the air. Finally done with that.

“Yes!” I shout. “Now for a break.”

I look into the mirror and judge the old tee and underwear I’m still in. My heater makes it feel like the Bahamas in here. I pull my hair into a ponytail, but it doesn’t look as cute as it did last night. I change out of my pajamas and into my mundane clothes. Everything I have is so boring. White tee, black tee, white tube top, faded jeans. I enjoy my minimal style as I throw on a white long-sleeve thermal and jeans.

When I’m ready to leave my room to wash my cup, I bump into the housemate I see the least of, Crew Nixon. He’s my older brother’s best friend, but he’s a year younger than him which makes him my age.

“Oh, just the person I was looking for,” Crew says. I turn on my heel as he walks past me, smelling like clean laundry like always.

He says, “I’m throwing your brother’s game on the screen tonight.”

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