On a Wednesday (One Week 2)

Panting and entwined, our mouths found each other again and again.

“Why haven’t you texted me back this week, Court?” he whispered.

“I lost my phone last week,” I said. “I sent you an email when I ordered a new one, but I also figured you’d want some time to yourself after …”

“Losing my first Super Bowl?”

“Yes.”

He sighed and slowly pulled out of me. Throwing the condom in the trash, he slid an arm under my back.

“My career has nothing to do with our friendship, Court,” he said. “And that won’t be my last Super Bowl. Are you seeing anyone?”

“You have the audacity to ask this after we have sex?”

He smiled. “I won’t tell him, if you don’t.”

“There is no one else,” I said. “Unless you count your limited edition bobblehead on my dresser.”

He looked over at it and laughed. “No, he doesn’t count.”

“Are you seeing someone?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Not unless you count the woman I’m currently looking at.” He smiled, and I blushed.

Silence filled the room for several minutes.

“How’s the program going?” he asked.

I shrugged, and he looked into my eyes.

“They didn’t pick you for the first round of scholarships, did they?” he asked.

“They said my writing was good, but not good enough.”

“Hmmm.” He tilted my head up with his fingertips. “So, you’ll try again, right? One more season?”

“Yeah.” I buried my head in his chest. “One more season.”

Courtney: Then

London, England

Fourth Season

Please let my name be on the list this time. Please let my name be on the list …

I stood outside the auditorium and waited for the results to be posted. If I made the cut, I could get on a plane next month and get the hell out of here.

If I didn’t, I’d try again for the next one and work even harder.

As I checked my watch, one of the program’s interns moved in front of me and taped a bright pink poster on the glass.

The other attendees and I waited until she walked around the corner before rushing to the wall to see our fate.

“Oh my god, yes!” “What the fuck?” “Seriously?”

I squinted and read every name on the list. Then I read it backwards.

My name wasn’t there.

“Oh my god! I made the cut!” My suite-mate Ashley—the second sucky-ass one the universe had bestowed upon me—tapped my shoulder. “I’m so glad that you didn’t.”

What? “Why the hell would you say something like that?”

“It’s the truth.” She shrugged. “You can’t win everything you want in life. You already won with looks and talent, and everyone here knows you’re the best writer, so that’s probably why the teachers didn’t pick you. They know you’ll get something else eventually, and you’re friends with a huge football player, right? Just suck him off and get him to do an interview, if you want to make it.”

My jaw dropped to the floor.

“Glad I got that off my chest.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What time are you treating me to dinner to celebrate me beating you?”

I stormed away from her and headed back to my apartment.

I’d never smoked a day in my life, but I had the sudden urge to take out one of the packs in her dresser drawer and inhale every single one of them tonight.

Hoping that she wouldn’t return anytime soon, I searched for a lighter.

Right as I was about to light up one of the sticks, my phone sounded with Kyle’s signature ringtone.

Dropping everything, I rushed across the room to grab it.

“Hello? Hello?” I answered. “Kyle?”

“Hey,” he said, his voice deep. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all. I just got back to my room. How are you?”

“Pretty good,” he said. “I went ahead and signed with Reebok over Nike like you suggested. I asked for an opt-out clause at the end of two years.”

“Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

“This call isn’t supposed to be about me, though.” There was a smile in his voice. “I have a bottle of champagne on ice in front of me, and I was hoping I would be able to celebrate with your good news, too. Did they select you for the scholarship this time?”

“Yeah.” I lied. “I just found out a few minutes ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my name was the first one on the list.” I forced a lump down my throat. “This is the happiest day of my life.”

“Then why does it sound like you’re about to cry?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Court?” He called my name. “Court, are you crying?”

“No, no … I’m—yes.” My voice cracked. “Yes, I’m crying. I lost out again, Kyle. Again.”

He let out a sigh and a soft beeping sound came over the line, his attempt to make me join a video chat.

I hit ‘accept,’ not bothering to wipe my eyes as he came into view.

“They’re never going to give it to me,” I said. “They already have all the winners in mind.”