Swing and a Mishap (Summersweet Island 2)

“You didn’t try out again?”

“Fuck no, I won’t go!” she shouts, and then giggles more before sobering. But you know, not actually sobering, sadly. Just moving on to the sniffling and crying portion of her night. “Nope. Emily Flanagan is officially an old, dried-up, has-been cheerleader. Tryouts started two weeks ago, and I just realized I don’t have the heart for it anymore. And I’m too old for this shit, Wrenny. My knees locked up when I was sitting on the toilet peeing last month after a four-hour practice; did I tell you that? I was stuck on the fucking toilet, sad and alone with cramped knees. I don’t want to be sad and alone on the toilet anymore, Wren!”

“Okay, sweetie, calm down,” I tell her as gently as possible at a high school football game when I have to talk so loudly just so she can hear me over the noise.

“Anyway, I handed in my resignation. I’ve already packed up my apartment, and I wanted to surprise you once it was all finalized, and now it is, and now I’m celebrating that I’m finally moving back home with some of the girls at… fuck, I don’t even know whose house, but I think we’re in the Valley. It’s a really pretty house. Anyway, guess who just walked in who is no longer off-limits and I’m going to kiss the shit out of?” Emily rattles almost faster than I can keep up. But keep up I do.

Oh, good God, no…

“Emily, do not make out with the quarterback of the Vipers when you’re shitfaced!” I scream, right when the crowd goes quiet during a timeout.

Murphy glares at me, Shepherd laughs and wraps his arm around my shoulder, and I just smile and wave at everyone around me and go back to my best friend in her time of drunk need.

“Goddamn, that man is hot,” Emily says through the line.

“Emily Jean Flanagan, no!” I scold, but I already know it’s too late.

“Dude, I’m moving back home to Summersweet Island tomorrow. This is my one shot to show him everything he’s been missing the last four years. YOLO, motherfucker! See you bitches tomorrow!”

“Emily, you are going to regret—”

The line goes dead before I can finish telling her she’s going to regret kissing the guy she’s had a massive crush on all four years she’s cheered for the Vipers, when she probably won’t even remember it tomorrow.

Holy shit, Emily will be back home tomorrow!

“You okay?” Shepherd asks as I slide my phone back into my hoodie, and he pulls me tighter into his side as a cool breeze blows through and I shiver.

“I’m more than okay. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“You can tell me about it while we discuss interviewing a cleaning person for the house,” he tells me, giving me a quick kiss while I scowl at him as the players take the field when the timeout ends.

“We are not hiring a cleaning person, Shepherd. That’s taking the spoiling thing a bit too far.”

“Whatever you say, my queen,” Shepherd says with a wink and a smirk, and I just shake my head at him, knowing I’m going to put my foot down about this. Because I have a voice, and a backbone, and we don’t need a damn cleaning person.

Narrator: Wren did, in fact, hire a cleaning person, declaring after two days of cleaning that monstrosity and only making it through three rooms that “This is some bullshit. Hire whoever you want!” And they lived happily ever after surrounded by love, noise, unicorns, glitter, and Lisa Frank stickers.

The End