Page 6 of Running
A full ride to one of the best business programs in the country.
Somehow, Mom found that irritating.
“Yeah, she suggested that I apply this fall so I can begin law school right after I get my MBA.” My eye roll is heavy and Rawley laughs.
“At least she’s realized you’re not dropping out of business school,” he says.
“Small wins, I know.”
I’ve always struggled to find my voice with Mom. Really to find my voice,period. Adding to the complicated dynamic is her old school belief that it’s best for a woman to mind her manners in public—focus on winning with charm and politeness—and mask how savvy she really is until it’s time to unleash her (figurative) weapons.
It works with her personality perfectly. She knows exactly how to wield her words and behavior to triumph in every circumstance.
She’s tried to pass along the same mindset to me since I was young. But I’m naturally shy, a people pleaser, and when I start with my polite filter on, it’s hard for me to wipe it away.
Except when I trust you. Then you’re gettingallthe unfiltered thoughts. Only my brothers and a few friends fall into that camp, though.
Talking about Mom makes me weary, so I turn the direction of the conversation. “I haven’t talked to Dad on the phone in a while. We text off and on. What about you?”
“Yeah. Same old, same old. We talk sports, mainly. He says he’s going to come to my games this year since it’s my last college season, but we’ll see.”
I hold my tongue about whether or not Dad will show for Rawley. He never did for Landon.
We’ve kept eating as we chatted, and by this time, our plates are almost empty. After we finish the rest of the food, Rawley grabs my plate and sticks it in the sink.
“What should we do this afternoon?” he asks as he turns back to face me.
“I don’t know. I guess we could go to a movie or something?”
“Bo-ring, Gracie,” Rawley says dramatically. “Could we take out Landon’s boat?”
I’m about to shut that down because neither of us has a proper boat license. But before I can, his phone pings, and he picks it up to read the message.
“Oh, that’s cool.”
“What?” I ask.
“Come on, get your shoes on,” he says, excitement in his eyes.
“Okay, what’s the rush?” Rawley races to the front of the house where he left his sneakers.
He turns back to me as he tries to shove a shoe on.
“Johnson Samuels just texted inviting us over to his house. He and Bailey Watkins are messing around in the mock field that he has in his backyard.”
Oh, that’s sonotcool.
“Us?”
“Yes, he mentioned you too. Hurry up, Gracie.”
I’ve come to accept that Johnson Samuels is going to haunt my time in Orlando. Still, I’ve been doing my best to stay out of his way, made easier by his leaving town for a few months in February.
There’s no reason to put myself in a position to feel like a mistake he regretted again.
To feel like an inadequate, inexperienced woman. Who’sstilla virgin.
I’m not striving to stay one, and I’m not the same relative innocent Johnson met in college. Our time together gave me more confidence with guys when I got back to Princeton after spring break. Since then, I’ve had a couple of short-term boyfriends, plenty of make-out sessions, and gotten intimate in other ways. I even bought myself a toy last year (highly recommend).
