On a Wednesday (One Week 2)

Lifting it up, I noticed that Graham had scribbled the words, “Junk Mail” on top.

Inside was an assortment of blue and gold envelopes, all adorned with specialized Pitt Panther and ‘Hail to Pitt!’ seals across the back flaps.

At the top, they were neatly sliced open, and there were far more than the “fifty-seven” Kyle mentioned.

I counted at least a hundred before making myself stop.

Letting out a breath, I carried the box back to my place and sat by the window.

I brewed a pot of coffee and started reading them one by one.

Courtney: Now

Present Day

* * *

Dear Courtney,

I got this idea from that P.S.—I Love You movie. (No, I didn’t dare watch it again, but I do remember every dreadful second of it.)

Anyway, since we’re currently not talking, and I feel like I’ve actually died without you, I thought I would borrow this concept until I come to see you at the end of the year. (Does October work?)

Between you and me, I wish that you would’ve never taken that fellowship in London. I should’ve told you to come with me and be my press person … Until you got a job you wanted.

I really do think—No, I know—that we could’ve made long-distance work, Court.

I missed you the moment we parted, and our random meetups were never long enough.

Kyle

P.S.—I sent you a text message a few weeks ago. I take it that you’re still upset with me over what I said.

I’m sorry, Court.

I truly am.

P.S.S.—I know you’re going to tell me that I’m making things up again, but whether you ever remember it or not, I feel like I was right about you during our freshman year. You were sexy as hell then by the way, and that was probably the best night of my first semester. (That was the closest I thought I’d ever come to getting “a ride” with you *smile drawing*)

* * *

I set aside Kyle’s first letter and gasped.

I’d always thought that he was wearing out a joke whenever he said that we’d crossed paths before our group project, but all of sudden, the freshman year memories before my father’s murder were beginning to play in mind.

He wasn’t making that shit up at all…

Courtney: Then

Freshman Year

Pittsburgh, PA

I stood outside of Kyle Stanton’s dorm room, hating that the other first-year reporter on staff had waited until the last minute to do this interview.

Not only had he waited until three days ago to tell me that he hadn’t done this, he said that he hadn’t even tried to email Kyle. That left me racing around campus for half a week, failing to catch Mr. Cocky without fangirls or teammates.

I’d almost refused this assignment, since I doubted that any of the football or basketball players took The Pitts News seriously, but I knew that my work ethic would count when it came time for me to apply to my dream program in London.

It’s now or never, Court. You have to get this done tonight.

I let out a breath and knocked on his door.

No answer.

Several seconds passed, and I knocked again, much harder this time.

Before I could pull out my phone to record a video of my failed attempt, the door swung open.

“Yes?” Kyle smiled at me, shirtless and in grey sweats.

His six-pack abs were on full display, and from the water droplets that were currently drifting down his hard chest, I assumed that he’d just stepped out of the shower.

“May I help you with something?” he asked.

“Yeah, I um—” I paused, spotting an inflatable hot tub full of Jell-O behind him. There were a few pair of lace panties hanging from the side of it. “I need to ask you a few questions for The Pitt News.”

“At two o’clock in the morning?” He tilted his head to the side. “That can’t be why you’re really here at this time.”

“Trust me, it is.” I rolled my eyes and flipped over the makeshift media pass that hung around my neck. “This will only take a few minutes, and I’d appreciate your help, so I can be done chasing you around campus.”

“I haven’t noticed anyone chasing me.” He leaned against the doorframe, looking me up and down. “I would have definitely noticed someone like you.”

“Thanks, but anyway—” I didn’t want to waste my time addressing his comment. From what I’d heard, he’d say anything to get a girl into his bed. “How do you feel about being named ‘Player of the Week’ by ESPN’s College Edition?”

“You’re on the university’s cheerleading squad, aren’t you?” He crossed his arms. “I’ve seen you on the sidelines cheering for me, but you’re never at my parties.”

“You’re extremely honored and humbled, got it.” I turned off my digital recorder and made up an answer for him. “Next question: Did you always know that you wanted to play for the University of Pittsburgh, or were you weighing options from other schools?”