I'd done what I could to avoid Reid the rest of the week, but considering we operated almost exclusively in the same space, dodging him altogether was an unrealistic expectation - despite the fact that the space itself was massive. It was like living on two different floors of the same high rise apartment building and somehow always managing to catch each other on the elevator. The eye contact was prolonged and the silence was awkward.

Reid had made it known he was trying to be as avoidant as I was when we'd catch each other in the nutrition center, and he'd make a showing of scraping his chair away from the table before getting up and leaving while still drinking his disgusting green smoothie. I couldn't say I blamed him. It wasn't exactly the first time I'd bruised a man's ego and it wouldn't be the last.

School had officially ended, leaving only those who made Clemson their home (voluntarily or otherwise) lingering on campus and sprinkled throughout the tiny college town. We were in no man's land on the football calendar - Spring sessions had concluded, and teams were legally not allowed to convene again until June 1st. Although I was thoroughly convinced this rule was in place solely because these boys and their testosterone-flooded brains would practice all year round if they could, and there were a multitude of problematic things with that concept. 

The day after graduation, the media department had their yearly "sendoff shindig" for all the seniors in the program. We rented out the back room at the Blind Tiger - just one of many big cat themed places in town so aptly named for the university's mascot. There were a handful of high tops situated around two pool tables at the center of the room, where even under the dim stained-glass high hats, you could tell the green felt had seen better days.

Currently, we occupied a high top close to the swinging double doors leading to the front section of the bar/restaurant. Since there was no bar in the back room, it was in perpetual motion from people in our party coming in and out with drinks - Kayla included as she dropped three shot glasses on our table.

"Casamigos for my bougie successor, and by extension for her successor too."

The other more unspoken purpose of the "sendoff shindig" was to attach new mentors and mentees, so by successor, Kayla meant Mara Faust - my very own little duckling to tend to now that I was the mama in charge. I'd known for a few weeks it would be Mara, but this was the first time we were properly spending time together. She'd been responsible for all the media for the women's lacrosse team last year - which was definitely no slouch job.

The entire media department was invited to the sendoff shindig, but after a lot of the obligatory hi's and bye's and omg I'm gonna miss you's, a natural separation developed. Much in the way that a wedding naturally separates your friends from your fun cousins from your conservative in-laws, the group of students that covered baseball or soccer did not mingle with us football people. We were seen as the highfalutin ones, despite the fact that we all had to earn it just like everyone else did.

Mara looked down at the shot glass with a guilty chuckle. "Tequila makes me cry. Besides, aren't you leaving tomorrow morning for New York?"

"First flight out at 6 AM," I confirmed with a nod. "So I'm hoping I can just sustain a buzz until I land at JFK."

"You don't like flying?" Mara asked.

"Let's just say among other responsibilities you'll have on the football's content and social media team, you're also now the designated hand-holder for Jo on flights," Kayla chimed in with a grin before smoothly throwing back her tequila shot.

Mara giggled, which I was quickly learning was a default response from her. She flipped her braids over her shoulder, a few of them threaded with strands of orange and purple. Between her slender, athletic build and school pride that oozed from every orifice of her body, Mara could have easily passed for a cheerleader. She had a gigawatt smile that seemed to be perpetually switched on, her teeth exceptionally white against her dark skin.

"I'm glad my aversion to flying is funny to you guys," I grumbled before taking my tequila shot.

"It's not," Kayla reassured me, still grinning. "I'm just giving Mara a fair warning. Besides, we do a lot of traveling and you handle it much better than you think you do."

As if the whole getting on a plane and being suspended 40,000 feet in the air for two and a half hours wasn't enough to get my stomach churning, it would continue well after I'd returned to the ground and on my way to Tarrytown. I didn't dislike being home, but being around my perfect sisters with their perfect, "normal" careers made me feel lesser than in a way being at Clemson rarely ever made me feel.

"Well, I appreciate that, but that's not going to stop me from getting another drink." I pressed my hands into the thick plastic of the high top and stood up. "You guys want?"

They both declined, and I threw my shoulder against the swinging doors towards the main bar. Out there, it was significantly more mellow than our back room party, with miniscule idle chatter floating above some obscure country music I didn't care to know.

"Tequila soda please," I told the bartender. "The tab's under Lawrence."

He gave me a quick nod before turning around to make my drink. I didn't frequent the Blind Tiger since I usually preferred to do my drinking in the comfort of my own apartment in yoga pants and a hoodie, so I took the time to glance around at all the unsurprising Clemson paraphernalia that lined the walls. The wooden bar that spanned the entire length of the wall felt worn and weathered underneath my palms, and artwork of the campus and Memorial Stadium was dotted among the bottles behind the bar. Above the shelves were several TVs mounted into the wall, playing some golf tournament. Just as we were about to enter the dog days of summer in the real world, so too came the dog days of sports - as in, nothing good was on.

In the sparse crowd, it wasn't hard to catch two guys sat at the end of the long wooden bar, and even under the low brim of his orange hat, Reid Donahue's tired eyes and vacant expression were more than apparent. I recognized the other guy talking to Reid as Clemson's star wide receiver Jaylen Jameson (affectionately JJ to most people), who seemed to be the only person actually engaged in their conversation. Even though I knew JJ well enough to go over there and make small talk, Reid's presence was a magnetic field that repelled every part of me.

I held my breath as I waited and waited for some semblance of vitality in Reid's expression as JJ carried on. I wasn't sure why I thought it would happen.

The bartender recaptured my attention as he placed my drink down on the bar in front of me, and I exhaled. I quickly thanked him and ducked away into the back room before I could be spotted.

"What happened to you?" Kayla asked when I sat back down at our table. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Mara had gone off to occupy one of the pinball machines on the other end of the room with a few other underclassmen. They broke the unspoken rules of cross-sport engagement, but maybe that was a good thing.

I shook my head. "Reid. I'd rather take the ghost."

Kayla chuckled. "You know, for someone who claims to not like him, you sure like talking about him."

I took a sip of my drink and shrugged. "I like complaining, and he happens to do a lot I can complain about."

"Like what?"

"Existing."

Kayla propped an elbow up onto the high top and balanced her chin in her hand, her gaze cast over my shoulder. "Well I hate to break this to you honey, but you are stuck with him this year. Even if the ESPN thing with him doesn't pan out and you end up doing a piece on our special teams coach or something, you are still responsible for the social media content for the entire football team, and not involving Clemson's star quarterback would be an Edward Cullen level of red flag. And I know you take that responsibility seriously, but I do feel compelled to remind you to play nice."

"I can play nice," I grumbled, twirling my straw. "And I genuinely do want this ESPN thing with Reid to work out. Aside from all of the obvious reasons, I just..."

I hesitated, hyper-fixating on a bead of condensation that trickled down the side of my glass. I thought back to what Kayla had said about Reid changing since his injury, and while my previously established biases about him tried really hard to circumvent that theory, I couldn't get the look on his face out of my head.

"Yes?" Kayla arched an eyebrow at me.

I swallowed. "I just want to know things. That's all."

Kayla pinched her lips together and nodded. "There's definitely a quote about what happens in the pursuit of knowing things, but now is not the time nor the place for quotes I can't remember."

Mara had brought us over three more shots (this time vodka, because she'd rather be extra giggly than weepy), and we immersed ourselves in a very competitive game of air hockey.

Despite being a Friday night, our group made up most of the crowd that came and went at the Blind Tiger, which made it easier to unlatch myself from whatever went on in the outside world. That, and a few more vodka sodas.

At least until I'd taken a break from air hockey to use the bathroom. I had to leave our little party room and loop around the main bar area to the back where there were two gender neutral bathrooms, the doors painted one orange and one purple. The latch above the handle of the purple door read vacant, and so I turned the handle and walked in.

I nearly slipped on the tiles as I stopped short in the doorway, where I was met with the sight of Reid leaning over the speckled marble sink, washing his hands. His hat was facing backwards now, and in the reflection of the sticker-covered mirror I saw tousels of his chocolate brown hair sticking out over the snap closure.

Unlike me, he didn't seem the least bit surprised at my presence as he turned off the water and turned to face me.

"So this is your new tactic?" He let out a hollow chuckle. "Corner me in a bathroom? At least buy me dinner first."

Coming from most guys, his response could have been perceived as flirty, but he just sounded bored.

"You know, this door locks." Without turning around, I reached my hand back and jiggled the handle a few times for good measure. "Or do you just assume since you're you that people should just know where you are at all times?"

Unlike Mara, vodka did not make me giggly, and any semblance of sympathy I'd had for him was evaporated by the amused, almost smug look on his face.

"You know, there's one thing I haven't figured out yet," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. It was no secret how much of a physical specimen he was, but in such close proximity, the way his biceps strained against the sleeves of his t-shirt could have been something seen on a greek sculpture.

"Oh yeah?" I mirrored his movements, not allowing my resolve to be faltered by a set of muscular arms. All quarterbacks had muscular arms. Just because it was Reid didn't make it an exception. "Enlighten me."

"I can't figure out why you have such a problem with me."

"I don't," I blurted out quickly. It wasn't a complete lie, I only had a problem with his face and his attitude. 

Reid shrugged, not letting on if he actually believed me or not. "If you say so."

His casual tone lit a fuse in me. Reid choosing to be unargumentative continued to push against all of my preconceived biases I had against him. Part of me wanted him to argue with me, because it meant that he was exactly what I thought he was. But nowadays, I wasn't sure what I thought about him anymore.

He took a step towards me - just one, since that was all his long legs needed to reach me standing with my back against the door. Everything I'd had to drink that night seemed to surface all at once, slowing my entire world down as Reid's hand brushed against my side. My entire body warmed before realizing he reached behind me to twist the handle of the door and push it open.

"Are you gonna let me by?"

Still boiling, I nodded silently and stepped aside, catching a whiff of his musky cologne as he brushed by, letting the door close behind him.

━━━━━━

jo's face in this gif kind of says it all (& would it be a story of mine without manip gifs??)

i live for characters getting under each other's skin, and best believe this will continue for them ! what are some of your favorite tropes?