I headed to my room and rummaged through my drawers to find one of my swimsuits for work. After checking my closet, I settled on my favorite TYR suit, a relatively new one in a rich dark purple hue. It featured an almost entirely open back, perfect for the water and for competitions and other swim-related activities. Opening my bag, I took a look at its contents. My lesson plans were neatly written on foam squares. I had discovered early in my teaching career that you could write with a pen on foam, and it wouldn't smudge. Alongside that, I packed my work whistle, safety glasses, and locker lock. Swiftly, I grabbed my pool shorts, simple black Nike shorts, and browsed my drawer for a suitable T-shirt to wear with them. Before closing my bedroom door, I slipped into some shoes and snagged my sunglasses. As I reached for my keychain by the door, I heard a high-pitched voice. "Kent, when are we going to hang out again?" Piper asked, clinging to Kent's arm as I turned around. "Piper, k
It had been a while since I'd attended a party. Back in high school, whenever my friends returned home, there was always some party to attend. However, most of them now spent their summers working or doing research in their college towns. Tonight, I needed to make an effort to be sociable, strike up conversations, and hopefully make some new friends. After a refreshing shower and some hair care, I left my hair slightly wavy. As a child, I had struggled to straighten it, but I now found its natural texture rather charming. Opting for a simple outfit to avoid drawing too much attention, I settled on a tank top and shorts, given the expected heat. I laced up my trusty old Converse and secured my belt bag. It was the perfect accessory for carrying a few essentials on a night out. We were waiting for Mark and Kyle to return home. Mark's practice had run late, and Kyle wouldn't be back until eight, so he suggested we head out without him if we were eager to get going. Surveying myself in
"Julianna!" Mark knocks on my door, and I quickly open it, surprised by his presence. "Hey, all set?" he asks with a bemused look. "When did you arrive?" I inquire, wondering how he managed to pack up so quickly. "Just within the last five minutes." "You're ready to go already?" I shake my head, somewhat incredulous. "Typical guy," I sigh, prompting a laugh from Mark as he points down the hallway. I thought I was a low-maintenance person, but apparently not. "Are you ready to head out?" Mark turns to Kent, who lets out a sigh, grabs his phone, keys, and wallet, and joins us as we leave the apartment. "So, how do you know Abby?" I ask Mark, grateful for the opportunity to chat with someone new. "We met her during our freshman year, and I'm sure you'll get along with her," Mark replies with a reassuring smile. "She's a nice and laid-back person." "Is she friends with Piper and the others?" I inquire, curious. "Not really friends, no," Mark explains. "We hang out occasionally, bu
The party seems to be going smoothly so far, with lots of fun and minimal issues. I've struck up a great rapport with Abby, and I'm gradually making new acquaintances and forging new friendships. Kyle finally arrives home from work and immediately heads to the dining room to join a game of beer pong. From the living room, I can hear commotion, and Abby seems to notice it too. We both turn our heads to investigate. "Try not to look now," Abby mutters, disgruntled, as Piper and her entourage saunter in. They all look stunning in short skirts, halter tops, and glistening gold jewelry. A cloud of perfume appears to follow them wherever they go. "If you don't like them, why invite them?" I inquire of Abby, who chuckles. "Because dealing with their anger and drama would be worse than just tolerating them," she explains with a shrug as they head towards the ping-pong table. I roll my eyes in response. "Elle!" she calls out, and I spot a blonde girl with wavy hair stacking empty cans on
"Oh, that makes sense," he chuckles, tinged with a hint of sadness. "It'll get easier," he assures me, though I find it hard to believe, a feeling that lingers. "So, what did you say your number was?" He retrieves his phone, breaking my thoughts. I feel the need to inquire, "What do you mean when you say it's pretty normal?" I hate myself a little for being so distracted. This guy is clearly making an effort to engage with me, yet I'm not fully present. "It happens every time our group goes to a party or drinks," he explains, reiterating what Abby had already mentioned. "The problem is he never talks to her or acknowledges her. Instead, he takes advantage of her, and she thinks they're something more." "Has he done this to other girls?" I need to uncover the truth, even though I realize Abby was trying to be polite. "Since the first day I met him," he shakes his head. "Some people have a lot of baggage or secrets resurface when they drink, and I think that's his way of trying to pu
The first day of school is finally behind us, and I couldn't be happier. It's been a challenge to get back into the routine, but I've cherished the respite from the apartment and the decreased encounters with Kent. This semester, my schedule was packed with classes, although thankfully devoid of presentations, group projects, or labs that would require physical exertion. Pursuing a degree in the arts brought its own unique set of challenges – readings, class discussions, active participation, and consistent attendance. It's all fun and games until you're faced with three 40-page articles for a single class. This year, I also attended seminars. They were a requisite for my degree, but they proved to be intense, intimate, and somewhat intimidating. These seminars placed substantial pressure on contributing original ideas and opinions during class discussions, a task that didn't quite align with my naturally shy and apprehensive disposition. In addition to academics, I juggled a part-t
"Mr. Matchmaker, tell me about the type of girl you'd consider dating," I say as I sigh and shut down my laptop, figuring we can continue our conversation here at home. "Who knows? Maybe someone fun. I just don't have the time to go out with anyone," he replies, highlighting how his busy schedule revolves around training and traveling for games. "Given my hectic life, I think she'd need to be easygoing and laid-back. I'm easy to get along with and talk to." "Good with people, huh?" I ask with a chuckle. "We're not talking about a pet here; we're discussing a girlfriend." "I'm sure you get it," we both laugh, and I respond with a casual shrug. "But yeah, just someone who's pleasant and goes with the flow." "I understand; that makes sense," I nod in agreement. Chase certainly embodies an easygoing demeanor, something I sometimes find hard to fathom. "But you're not actively searching for a date," I reiterate what he's already mentioned. "No, but you never know when something good m
"Julianna!" I awoke to the sound of Mark's voice cutting through the stillness of the morning. Sunlight streamed in through my window, and the clock indicated that it was almost ten—not too early for a Saturday. Groggily, I muttered, "What?" while rolling over and pulling the covers up to my chin. A late-night study session had left me feeling fatigued, even on a weekend morning. Mark's persistence in his quest to enter my room was evident in his voice. "Can I come in?" I sighed before begrudgingly granting permission. "Fine," I grumbled, my attempt to return to slumber thwarted. Weariness clung to me from the previous night's study session. As Mark entered my room, the half-hearted glance I gave him conveyed my reluctance. "What's up?" I managed, my eyes barely open. A chuckle escaped Mark as I moaned in response. "Not a fan of early mornings, huh?" I shook my head, my voice still groggy with sleep. "Why are you here, and what do you want?" Mark continued to chuckle. "Today, we