10
What the hell am I doing here?
I haven’t felt this out of place in a long time. I don’t spend my Sundays playing frisbee on a college campus with a bunch of college kids. God, they are kids, too, aren’t they? Jesse is a kid. I let him kiss me...touch me.
I don’t even know what to talk about. What do college kids talk about? Even when I was their age, I wouldn’t have been able to carry a conversation. At twenty-three, I was potty training a toddler and trying to maintain some sense of dignity within a toxic relationship. Me and these kids? We are not the same.
As Jesse and his friends spread out with the kids to throw the frisbee, I just stand there, speechless, like a fool.
“Hi,” the blonde girl says brightly, pulling me from my thoughts. I smooth out my face as best I can and smile back.
“Hello.”
“I’m Ivy.” She sticks her hand out, so I take it. Her handshake is surprisingly strong.
“Jocelyn.”
“Nice to meet you, Jocelyn.” Her eyes are bright blue and sincere, but I’m still intimidated and awkward. I smile and nod. “So, you live next to Riggs and the guys, right?” She asks, looking back toward the frisbee circle, and I let my shoulders relax a bit. “In DuPont Village?”
“We moved in a few months ago.” DuPont Village is the name of the cluster of townhouses where we live. “It was nice of your friends to help us unload the U-Haul.”
“Riggs and Xavier are so helpful. Plus, Riggs’s dad owns the cul-de-sac, so he makes a great welcoming committee.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” I say.
“Mhm,” she hums, smiling as she watches the frisbee tossed from one person to another. The redhead, Kelley, lifts Jude and spins him in a circle, and Ivy laughs as she watches. “Stanton is Riggs’s last name, as in Stanton Property Management, and DuPont Village is actually named after his mom. Odette DuPont Stanton.” Her lips twitch downward, and her brows furrow briefly, then she blinks and the smile returns. “So, if you ever need a cup of sugar, Riggs is a good neighbor to have.”
“Good to know,” I say, then attempt to...make small talk? I do it with patients all the time. I can do this. “What are you studying?” There. That’s safe.
“I’m pre-law,” she says. “Right now, I’m interning at a law firm. What do you do?”
“I’m a CNA at Harvest View,” I tell her, then quickly add, “but I’m in a bridge program to become an RN.”
I don’t know why I felt the need to tell her that. I’m not ashamed of my job, but I’ve always struggled with an inferiority complex. It’s a knee-jerk reaction.
“Oh wow. That’s awesome.” She sounds genuine. “I know that must be a lot of work. Doing that, going to school, and raising two kids? You must have superpowers.”
I shrug. “Just a mom,” I say, and she levels me with a pointed look.
“Jocelyn, there’s no just about what you do. You’re kicking butt.”
Before I can respond, the pink-haired girl—Bailey—throws herself onto the blanket with a thud.
“I changed my mind. Frisbee sucks.” She pants, covering her face with her arms. “I wasn’t made for physical activity.”
Ivy smirks, then motions for me to sit on the blanket with her. Ivy sits next to Bailey, and I sit across from them just as Bailey says, “Let’s just leave these goons and go get pizza without them.”
Ivy giggles and I look away. This conversation isn’t meant for me. Great. They’re going to start talking, and I’ll be the awkward mom person hovering just on the fringe of the circle. I resist the urge to tug at my shirt or smooth out my leggings. I would have worn better clothes if I knew I’d be meeting people. They’re both so young and attractive. God, I must stick out like a sore thumb. I reach for the book June brought. Flipping through an eight-year-old’s chapter book is less rude than scrolling through my phone, right?
“June is a crack up,” Bailey says, and I glance up. She’s still lying on her back on the blanket, but her head is turned toward me. Ivy’s attention is on me as well.
“Yeah, she’s very witty,” I say with a smile. “She’s usually pretty introverted, though.”
“You should have heard her hand Riggs his ass.” Bailey cackles with glee. “Oh, it was so good.” She raises the pitch of her voice to what I assume is meant to be an impression of June and snarks, “I thought baseball players were supposed to be good at catching and throwing.”
My hand shoots to my mouth, and my jaw drops. “I’m so sorry,” I start to say, but Bailey and Ivy can’t hear my apology over the sound of their laughter.
“You should have seen his face.” Bailey gasps between giggles. “And then she told him to go braid his hair!” She clutches her stomach and rolls on her side, and my own surprised laugh shoots out of me.
“She didn’t,” I whisper, then glance to where June and Jude are still playing frisbee with Jesse and his friends. The smiles stretching across their faces, all of their faces, send bolts of joy through me. I never see June smile that openly. Not anymore, and certainly not with strangers. I probably should be mortified at her rude behavior, but I’m mostly just happy to see her interacting so freely.
“Oh, she did.” Bailey props herself up into a sitting position. “I’ve never seen Jesse so proud either. He about fell over laughing.”
“Poor Riggs,” Ivy jokes, “he already gets it enough from J.”
“You know he loves it,” Bailey adds, then looks toward me again. “June is eight?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “She’s very mature for her age.”
“That’s what Jesse said,” Ivy says. “He wouldn’t stop talking about J-Squared the other night. It was June this and Meatball that. I think he had more fun babysitting than the kids did.”
“Why Meatball?” Bailey asks, and I laugh.
“I have no idea,” I answer honestly. “Apparently being Captain Jude wasn’t good enough because one day, he just started demanding I call him Captain Meatball.”
“Told you,” Ivy beams, and Bailey rolls her eyes. When I raise my brow questioningly, Bailey explains.
“I thought Meatball was one of J’s nicknames.” She shakes her head. “He likes to make up weird ass random nicknames sometimes. But V said J’s nicknames are never totally random, so Jude probably came up with it himself.”
I look to Ivy, and she shrugs with a smile. “Lucky guess.”