*****
"Fucking fuck fuckity fuck," I muttered to myself as I fumbled for my keys in my bag.
It was my first day of classes, and I was wearing the skirt suit I had bought for my internship earlier in the summer. Maybe because I've been a student for several eons, but September always marks the beginning of the year for me, and so I always make a pack of resolutions that drop off around mid-October. This year's soon to be failed resolution was to wear business clothing to classes all year, rather than trying to pass off "dressy" leggings as pants after the first week of classes.
In the spirit of pretending that I'd be able to keep my resolution, I wore my nicest suit to school. After all, this year I had volunteered to buddy up with a first year law student, and check in with her during the first week of classes to make sure she didn't have a nervous breakdown and drop out. Which just goes to show how out of touch the faculty is - everyone knows that nuclear meltdown happens in November.
So as promised, I met my first year, Madeline, at the on-campus Starbucks. I was doing my absolute best impression of having my shit together, even pretending that she wasn't about to begin three soul-sucking years surrounded by colossal douches that would make her want to gauge her eyes out on a regular basis. I even paid for her latte in a very casual way, as if our first ten years of salary weren't going to be swallowed up by student loan payments.
We were chatting about her course selection as we stood in line waiting for our drinks. In front of us were three university freshmen that were the definition of basic bitches. How do I know they were freshmen? They weren't wearing sweatpants or business wear. Ah, the days when I wore my sexy outfits to class because I cared more about looking hot than sleeping. Good times. It was almost endearing.
Until one of the little idiots turned around and sloshed her strawberry frappucino all over me. I was literally dripping with whipped cream and pink goop.
That's when I should've realized that it was going to be a shit day. Instead, I merely fake-smiled while dabbing as much off of my dry-clean only suit as possible, trying not to scream my head off. Despite my efforts, there was a trail of pale pink crusty patches all down my beautiful black suit. I took a few deep breaths, and walked Madeline to her first class.
However, after being clipped by someone's rolling backpack (don't even get me started... WE ARE NOT AT THE AIRPORT), which scratched the back of my best office heels, getting to my first class and realizing my laptop was dead, and now, trying to find my keys in my purse while balancing my books and useless laptop bag, I could no longer suppress my rage. I pulled out the keys, and attempted to contort my hand to get them into the lock. Instead, I dropped them onto the floor.
I reached down to pick them up, and in the process, dropped everything else. My purse exploded on the floor, sending tampons, lip gloss and change careening all over the place.
I stood there for a second. And then I burst into tears. In that moment, I couldn't have told you why I was crying. It wasn't any one thing in particular. Just a day I had tried so hard to make good and yet somehow, had ended up in shambles on the floor.
After a few minutes, I took a deep breath, opened the door, gathered up my mess of belongings, and chucked them into a heap on my coffee table. I walked to my bathroom, stripping off my stained suit as I went.
I stood in the shower for half an hour, and when I came out, I felt almost human again. I threw on sweats and a baggy t-shirt and plopped on to my couch. I dug through the heap on my coffee table, found my phone and saw I had two texts.
Gavin's text read, Hey babe, hope you had a great first day! Check your email, I sent you a few listings with open houses this weekend. Let me know what you think.
Guiltily, I closed his text without responding. The prospect of house hunting was just too much after the clusterfuck of a day I'd had.
I opened Rachel's text. Hey, I'll pick you up at 6:15 for the game!
I groaned. I had completely forgotten that tonight was our last game of the season. It was 5:45, and I honestly felt ready to just crawl into my bed and pass out watching Friday Night Lights on Netflix. (Don't judge. Texas forever!)
I texted her back. Rach, today has been the worst. I'm bailing to spend the night with Tim Riggins.
Her reply came almost immediately. No way, Al. It's the last game of the season. Plus, Tim Riggins is mine. I am showing up to your house and dragging you there if I have to. And you're coming for beers after. And you're gonna like it!
I couldn't help but smile at her pretend tenacity. I reluctantly got up, changed into my soccer stuff, and packed a t-shirt and jean shorts for post-game beers. I even managed to brush my hair and put on some mascara so I resembled the non-shambles version of myself.
By the time that Rachel pulled up outside of my building, I could feel myself starting to shake off the crappiness of the day. On the way there, I entertained her by reenacting all of the disastrous events that had befallen me. We were both laughing as we pulled up to the field.
A few of the girls were already on the field warming up. We walked over to the bench, where Reid was standing alone, frowning at his clipboard. "Hey!" I sang out as I plopped into the bench.
He looked up, and his whole face transformed into a grin. "Hey."
I felt it. Tingles.
"How have things been?" I asked, suddenly feeling shy, my eyes on my feet as I laced up my cleats.
"Not bad. We lost to that thug team without our enforcer, though. Next time you go on a trip, you better clear it with me." His little smirk belied the fake sternness of his tone.
I laughed. "I'm sure it was just fine."
"Well it sure is good to have you back," Reid said with such sincerity that I found myself dropping my gaze again. "Now both of you get out there and warm up!"
As I jogged out onto the field with Rachel, I looked over my shoulder one last time. Reid's eyes were still on us, and he still had the cute little grin on his face.
I turned my focus towards the group, where Ainsley practically tackled me with a hug. The girls surrounded me, asking about my trip. The September sun was warm on my face, and I felt a similar warmth bubbling in my chest. In that moment, if anyone had asked, I'd have called it a great day.
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