Page 72 of Hitting the Goal Line
There were so many different words that came to mind as soon as I stepped out of that bathroom, but as soon as I sat down on that bed, I forgot them.
And instead of giving Blake the words I spent the majority of my shower thinking up, I gave him only half the truth. That I needed my friend more than anything. I should have just admitted everything.
Part of me is glad that I did it that way, part of me isn’t. Part of me hates me for it, but the other is glad, because even if I broke my heart saying those twelve words, I liberated myself from the hold that my feelings for Blake had on me.
At least, that’s how it feels.
Because if it didn’t feel that way, I wouldn’t be here, getting ready for a date.
Adate. With Elijah, the guy that I met at the hospital the day of the cup finals.
Since junior year in high school, I’ve been on my fair share of dates. A large majority of them being first dates.
For every single one of them, I have been nervous. Something about meeting new people and the act of trying to get them to like you, always has my leg bouncing up and down, thinking that something is going to go wrong.
Thing don’t usually go wrong, a large percentage of the time me and the guy hit it off and set up a second date, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like I want to puke before every single one.
It’s like a cycle. Find date, get nervous for said date, puke, and then go on date and act like everything is fucking peachy.
And since I’m going out for the first time in almost a year, the nerves are on an ultimate high.
Elijah texted me two days after the cup finals and asked me to a coffee date. Given who I woke up next to the morning after the game and the type of conversation that we had, I was going to decline his invitation. It didn’t feel right to accept a date when I basically stomped on my own heart. But I then remembered what I told myself that night. I have to do what’s best for me, and what was best was walking away from my feelings for Blake and trying to be happy.
So without a second thought, I texted Elijah back and accepted his invitation for today.
I thought that the second the message said delivered, that I was going to feel relaxed, that the nerves weren’t going to take over my body as if they were its host. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Since everything was finalized for this date, my stomach has been churning as if it was trying to tell me that going out with Elijah is a really bad idea. But it’s just my nerves trying to play mind tricks on me.
From what I can see, there’s nothing bad or wrong with Elijah. From what I can tell, he’s as sweet as they come, so there shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about, but apparently my body is not comprehending that just yet. So it’s drowning me in nervous energy.
And at the worst time.
I’m supposed to meet Elijah in an hour and not only have I not picked out what to wear, my hair is not cooperating, and my stomach feels like it’s going to jump out of my body.
“It’s just pre-date jitters. The second you see him, it will be all gone,” I tell myself as I drag on a skirt that I bought years ago and have yet to wear.
As soon as it’s on, I walk over to the full-length mirror that I have behind my door and check to see how I like it.
Looking at myself, I can see why it’s been at the back of my closet all of this time. The material does nothing to my body if anything it makes me look boxy. I have half a mind to say screw it and pick something else, but when I look at the time again, I see that my hour just got shorter. There’s no time to pick something else out and fix my hair.
“Fuck it. I’ll wear something cuter on our second date,” I say to my reflection, and heading back to my bathroom.
Hopefully a few more passes of my straightener will be able to control the frizz. I doubt it though since the humidity in Chicago is already rising. It’s days like this that I miss living in Missoula.
I spend the next twenty minutes fussing with my hair, until I finally get it to look at least a little decent. Once that’s done, I slide on my shoes and make sure that I have everything that I need and start heading to the door.
There’s a slight chance that I’m going to be a few minutes late, but that’s okay, as long as I get there, that is all that matters.
I’m grabbing my keys from where they are on the kitchen counter, when I hear the front door opening.
Instantly, I stop walking and my eyes go wide.
No fucking way.
There is no way that Blake is here right now.
He wasn’t supposed to be home until later.
