Page 29

Chapter 29

The Best Laid Plans

Isaiah

Fall. Senior Year.

T he only thing sweeter than starting my senior year of college is seeing Robyn Cassidy sprinting across an empty rugby field and jumping in my arms 1 .

“Icy!” she squeals as she koalas herself around my body and I chuckle. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too.” More than she realizes. We both spent the summer working and training our asses off—her back home in Minnesota, and me across different camps up and down the East Coast. Thankfully my landscaping job was pretty flexible and allowed me to miss a week here and there.

I’ve been a bundle of nerves all week knowing I’d see her today, knowing I’d be asking her the question I’ve been ruminating on for weeks now. Ever since I broke up with Jessica, I’ve allowed myself to finally acknowledge my feelings for Robyn. Jess deeply hurt me, but the sorrow I felt over losing her was quickly beaten down by the prospect of being together with Robyn. With her in my arms, like she is now, everything clicks into place.

She smells like Tiger Balm—like camphor, menthol and clove—and I smile. Some people hate that scent, but I love it on her. It’s for pain relief and she only wears it because of rugby, and I’m lucky enough to see her like this. I’m lucky to be part of her inner circle and truly know her.I'm lucky enough to have once massaged it into her skin.

She hops down from our embrace and runs back to her team for warm-up. “I’ll find you after our games. I have so much to tell you!” she cheers.

“Me too!” I wave back. Dane, who’s now a sophomore at my college, is lacing up his boots next to me and snorts. “What?”

He looks down at the knots he’s tying and sings, “ Robyn and Isaiah, kissin’ in a tree… ”

I smack his head. “My hand slipped. Sorry.”

“Ass.”

Of course Robyn plays like the machine she is, plowing over people and even scoring two tries over my college women’s team. She’s definitely improved since I watched her last. If I thought she was fast before, it’s nothing compared to now. She’s like a gazelle.

She plays the full eighty and tears her scrum cap off as she walks off the pitch with an exhausted smile.

Our game follows hers, and even though the women’s teams have already left the field to start the social, she stays back to watch and cheer. Not for her college men’s team. Not even for mine. But for me.

She’s the one.

I know it.

“Good game, Zay,” she smiles, handing me a beer after we enter the social at, once again, someone’s grody off-campus house.

“You too.” We clink our plastic cups and I take a fortifying sip and pray for courage. “Can I talk to you outside, actually?”

“Yeah. It’s too crowded here anyway.”

The late afternoon sun is still warm as we head to the backyard where there are a couple small groups of players talking and laughing.

“Sorry we couldn’t see much of each other over the summer,” I say as we both take a seat on a small grassy hill.

“I know, me too. My dad was on my ass all summer training me.”

“I can’t imagine what it would be like having two former Olympians as parents.”

She sighs dramatically but doesn’t say anything before taking a drink.

I stare at my beer and say it. “I broke up with Jessica.”

“What?”

I nod. “A few weeks ago. I caught her cheating on me.”

“Oh my god! What—how?”

“I don’t think you knew this, but she and I never had sex. She was waiting for marriage,” I say and venture a glance to see Robyn's eyebrows high. “Which, I was fine with. I’m not really one to have those strong urges with someone right away anyway. It takes time for me.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

“So you could imagine my surprise when I walked in on her having full, penetrative sex with the guy from her Bible study.”

“No,” she bellows.

“She cried to me about it later. Said she was broken. Begged me to help her and stay with her, but,” I shake my head. “I couldn't. I didn’t want to.”

“You guys were together for like…”

“Three and a half years.”

“Isaiah, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not,” I smile. “I’m glad it ended.”

“Well I’m sorry you went through that, but,” she raises her cup to mine again, “cheers to seeing the positive, I guess.”

“How was your summer?”

“What? Like we didn’t text for most of it?” she teases.

“I know,” I chuckle.

“Actually!” she beams, the lightbulb in her brain turning on. “I didn’t tell you! Last weekend I was at my cousin’s wedding as a bridesmaid, and I met the most incredible man! I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

My heart crashes into a brick wall, but she continues.

“We met at the reception, and we had this instant connection. Apparently his parents were friends with my mom in high school, but I’ve never met them! His name is Wyatt, and we talked all night and at one point,” she pauses to giggle and push her hand against my shoulder. “At one point, he calls over to my cousin and shouts, ‘I’m gonna marry this girl!’ Can you believe that?”

No, I really can’t. I want to crawl into a cave and die.

“The next thing I know, he’s showing up the next day to pick me up on his motorcycle and drive me to meet his family.”

“Robyn,” I hiss. “You got on a motorcycle with a stranger?”

“He wasn’t a stranger,” she says and rolls her eyes. “We had spent the whole reception together the night before and our families know each other.”

Suddenly I can’t control my breathing. “Robyn, motorcycles are incredibly dangerous.”

Her eyes narrow. “I know. That’s kind of the exciting part.” She places a hand on my shoulder again, this time in a reassuring manner. “I was fine, Zay. He didn’t try any stunts or drive too fast or anything.”

“What did you say his name was?”

“Wyatt.”

“Last name? ”

“O’Connor…”

I nod casually. “Is he a student?”

“Yeah, he’s a senior at Brandywine studying engineering.”

“Well if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stop riding a motorcycle.” She looks at me like I’m a fuddy-duddy. I don’t care. “Are you seeing him again?”

“Yeah,” she blushes. “He’s coming to visit me next weekend. I think he’s going to ask me to be his girlfriend.”

Fuck.

“Do you want to be?” The heart that once kept me alive is trampled with her happy little nod. I sigh because what else can I do? I lost my opportunity. I had the smallest fucking window to climb through and prove I could be more than a friend to her, and it closed before I even had the chance.

All I can do now is be what I’ve always been—her buddy. I’ll be the guy she texts about rugby; the guy she sends gifs of hedgehogs. I’ll be the guy she texts pictures of her giant rugby bruises; the one she sends new made-up verses to rugby drinking songs. And I’ll pretend the friend-shaped space in my heart doesn’t go deeper. I’ll pretend. Because a life without Robyn Cassidy isn’t much of a life.

“So what else is going on?” she asks, oblivious to the husk of a man next to her.

“I was invited to a training camp with the London Hornets next month,” I say despondently. It’s funny, I imagined myself telling her this exact thing today but with a much different attitude.

“ZAY!” she screams, throwing her beer on the ground and tackling me. “That’s amazing!”

She may have just unknowingly broken my heart, but I can’t sulk when she’s this happy. “Yeah,” I chuckle.

“Do you want to play pro after school?” she asks, and we shift ourselves back into a sitting position.

“I think I’m going to give it a shot,” I admit.

“Good! God, that’s incredible. I’m so jealous. How do you feel?”

“Nervous, honestly.”

“I bet. But think about what an opportunity this is! You’re going to do great. There isn’t a better prop playing at the college level that I’ve seen. You’re gonna crush it.”

Her positivity is infectious and it soothes my wounds, like she's my own personal Tiger Balm. “Will you still talk to me when I’m famous?”

“That’s the spirit!”

1. Wait by Alexi Murdoch