Paige
A week after my birthday, I’m headed to Saratoga Springs for Sophie’s engagement party. It’s a whole weekend devoted to celebrating Sophie and Dr. Dickhead’s love, so how could I miss it?
The festivities actually started last night, but that was also the first hockey game of the season, so Emma and I were in the stands, cheering the guys on. I have no clue what happened, but we won, and my throat is still scratchy from yelling.
We celebrated the win at the hockey house, of course, and Spencer and I woke up early so he could drive me to the train station. He even stopped at the Green Bean to get me a latte for the road. My boyfriend is the best.
The train ride is long, but the good news is that I’ve finished all my reading for Contemporary Lit. For the next two weeks…
We finally pull into the station at Saratoga Springs where Jake is waiting for me in our car. Well, his car now. When we were both at Moo U, we shared custody of Trixie, a shiny silver SUV. But when Jake graduated and went off to med school in Cornell, he took Trixie with him.
And did my parents think to get me a car? Nope.
And when I mentioned asking them to co-sign a loan this summer, you’d think I asked them if we could start an underground market for rare jewels. They told me I’d be too tempted to drive into the city or give rides to friends if I had my own car. There were so many holes in that argument that my logic professor would have a field day, but I let it go, and I don’t really mind the train all that much. I’m someone who rarely sits still, so the forced quiet time is a nice change.
But I’m still bitter about Trixie, and I make this clear when I hug her headlights before embracing my brother.
“Trix! Oh, how I’ve missed you. And you look so good— just the same as when I saw you last, but—oh, no! Is that dirt I see? Is Jake not taking proper care of you? Do I need to take you back home to Moo U?”
“You wish,” Jake says, rounding the front of the car. “And careful, or you’ll poke your eye out with these damn lashes.”
I laugh because he’s not talking about my lashes (though I am wearing a bold lash today). No, he’s talking about those giant plastic lashes you can get for your car. I hit 50,000 subscribers last year, and to celebrate, Jake decked Trixie out in lashes.
“You kept them on? You are the best. Trix wouldn’t be Trix without her lashes.”
“Of course he kept them on. I would never let him betray you like that, Paige. Also, as it turns out, they’re way harder to take off than they were to put on.” I look up to see Trevor, Jake's best friend, and the guy who’s basically another brother to me.
“Trev? What the? Aren't you supposed to be in North Carolina?”
Jake nods. “Technically, he is. But I talked him into flying up for the weekend to hang out and celebrate Sophie’s engagement to Dr. Dickhead. The coral reef can wait.”
“Uh, actually…” Trevor winces.
“Nope. Zip it. No climate change reality checks this weekend. Just fun. Reality will dawn for all of us Monday morning,” Jake says. “Now, let’s get rolling. This resort is killer, Paige. Dr. Dickhead might come from a long line of assholes, but they have great taste in vacation property.”
“Good to know.” As Jake grabs my bag to stow it in the trunk, I slide into the driver’s seat. Trevor takes the front passenger, leaving Jake to ride bitch. “What the hell?” he complains.
“I haven’t driven this car in months! Scratch that: I haven’t driven any car in months. So you can dial it back.” I’ve decided that telling him I drove my friend’s beater to another town to buy her a couple pregnancy tests is not info my brother needs to have. Besides, it was a mission of mercy, so it doesn’t really count as driving.
Trevor laughs and Jake whines, but we make our way to the resort. And Jake wasn’t kidding— this place is beautiful. Dr. Dickhead’s family is rolling in it— even more so than mine— and his parents have a vacation home nearby. When Dr. D popped the question and Sophie predictably said yes, the moms cooked up this celebratory weekend getaway. I can't complain too much, though. It’s beautiful here and it’s good to see Jake and Trevor again. And there’s no doubt the food here will be better than anything I can get in the dining hall.
Now, if Spencer were here, then it would be perfect. I shiver at the thought. Our relationship has been on fast-forward. We spend all our spare time together, and not just because we’re partners in Speech. We find lots of creative ways to use our mouths and practice saying lots of dirty things to each other, but that clearly has nothing to do with our coursework. I stay over more often than not, and when we can’t hang out, we text.
But, we’ve both steered clear of the “meet-the -parents” talk, and that’s not too surprising, I guess. I don’t really want to bring anyone into this circus right now, and I don’t need to give my parents more ammunition for their argument that I’m not focused enough. And I’m guessing the same is true for Spence. I know his dad is next-level intense. So, for now, I’ll enjoy the scenery and the fall sunshine, and look forward to seeing Spence tomorrow night.
“We’re on the fourth floor, roomie,” Jake tells me, as he hands me a key card. “And Trevor’s room is just down the hall.” We pile into the elevator and make the short trip to our floor. It takes no time at all to unload my stuff and I’m debating between hopping in the shower to wash off, or grabbing a bite to eat because I’m starving.
Trevor must hear my stomach growling. “You want to grab lunch with us? We’re gonna walk around a bit and then get some food.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I think I’ll grab a shower to freshen up. And I’m meeting Mom in an hour for manicures, so I’ll just order something from room service.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Trevor nods and gives me a quick hug. “It’s good to see you, Princess P.”
“You know why we always called you that, right?” Jake interjects, giving me a squeeze of his own.
“Because I’m a princess whose first name starts with P,” I explain, as though I’m talking to a small child.
“Nah,” he laughs, “the P stands for Pain in the Ass.”
An hour later, I find myself relaxing in a massage chair while my toes are soaking in a tub and a lovely woman named Laura is painting my nails.
It would be paradise if my mom weren’t pelting me with questions about school.
“So, Justin checked in to let us know your practice scores are still low. A 140 just isn’t going to cut it, Paige. Your dad and I don’t know what else to do with you. My goodness, what more could you ask for? We’ve hired the best tutor, we’ve provided for all your expenses. All you need to do is study. School is your job right now, dear, and you’re just not getting the job done.”
I’ve been hearing different versions of those same words for years now, probably dating back to first grade. If one more person tells me that I don’t “apply myself,” I’m liable to apply my fist to their face. Well, ok. I’d never actually do that. I’m not prone to violence and I care about my nails way too much. And speaking of nails, the color I picked is stunning. It’s a cool navy with flecks of gold. It’s a far cry from my mother’s French nails, and Sophie’s neutral (She’s not here, but I’d bet money on the fact that her nails are a tasteful nude—probably something called Bashful.)
But, as I’ve learned, complaining won’t get me anywhere. “Mom, I have been studying. And I have A’s and B’s in all of my classes— even Econ, which is the devil’s math.”
“A’s and B’s” my mother responds, clearly unimpressed. “Darling, law school is unbelievably competitive. Right now, you’re competing against yourself, but in two years, you’ll be competing with the best and brightest. B’s simply won’t do. You need to focus on your future instead of sitting around painting your face and posting it on the internet.”
Thankfully, before my mom can continue her tirade, she’s whisked off by a man named Jason for a massage. She and Sophie opted for the full treatment, and though I love a good spa day, I’m happy to get my nails done and hang with my brother and Trevor, who’s basically my brother, too, until it’s time to get dressed for tonight’s party.
My nails are finally dry and I head out in search of a little sunshine. It’s early October, but the weather is blessedly mild today, and Vermont has toughened me up. I wave to Megan, my brother Nathan’s wife, as she walks into the salon and I exit.
I text Spencer to see how his day is going. He has a late-afternoon game tonight—it’s the home opener—so he should still have his phone on for a little while.
I find a cute little patio with a padded lounge chair and a table. Perfect. I dig my iPad out of my bag, knowing I should do a few practice questions. Despite my protests, I really do hate disappointing my parents. But nothing about law is remotely interesting to me and I just can’t get the ideas to stick in my head.
A text from Spence saves me from making the decision between doing a round of practice tests or watching hair dye fail videos on the internet.
Spencer: How was the trip?
Paige: Fine. Long, but fine. I sat behind a group of women who were headed to the casino, so that was fun to eavesdrop on. I want to be that cool when I’m pushing 80.
Spencer: It’s good to have goals.
Paige: And speaking of goals… we never discussed this. What do I say to you before you hockey? Am I allowed to say good luck? Because I dated a theater guy my senior year of high school and that phrase was strictly forbidden before a performance.
Spence: We’re a superstitious crew, for sure, but it’s not like that. You can totally say good luck. Mostly it’s just guys who always wear the same socks (no joke), or always get dressed in the same order (who doesn’t?), or stuff like that. Also, I don’t hockey. I play hockey. God, I hope you were joking...
Paige: Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t... And good luck. Are you hanging out with the guys after? I hear the Biscuit makes a delicious chicken salad and you can even order it without all the good stuff on top. ;)
Spencer: It’s tempting, but no. My mom and Ted are down for the game, so they’ll take me out after, probably. It’ll be good to see them. My dad’s coming, too, but he’ll leave before I do. He’s not Ted’s biggest fan, so they tend to avoid each other.
Paige: Is Ted awful? Do you need reinforcements? Get your mom to take you to Tito’s. Emma works there and she can spill a drink on his lap. She does it accidentally all the time, so no one will be suspicious.
Spencer: You’re always looking out for me.
Paige: Always.
Spencer: Actually, Ted’s fine. His biggest crime is being attentive to my mother, so… yeah. My dad’s intense, like I’ve said, and I’m sure it was no picnic being married to him. Ted is the opposite of my dad in every way. And yeah, he’s kind of boring, but after dealing with my dad, she deserves whatever she wants.
Spencer: Speaking of fam, how’s yours? Is your sister excited?
Paige: Fine and yes.
Spencer: Wow. Now who’s the non-talkative one? Everything ok?
Paige: Yes... It’s just...ugh. Can we talk about anything other than my family?
Spencer: Of course. I promised Birdy a rematch of Madden, so I’ ll actually be socializing with my team later tonight. Are you proud or what?
Paige: So proud. :)
Spencer: There is a reward system, right? ;)
Paige: Hell yes. And you’ll find out your prize tomorrow night.
Spencer: What time does your train get in?
Paige: 7:35 tomorrow evening. Are you sure you don’t mind picking me up?
Spencer: Of course not. I’m running drills with Goat until 3. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the station. Coach just told us to put our phones away, so I gotta go.
And now it’s that awkward moment. How do you say goodbye without saying “love you?” But we haven’t said those words yet— it’s way too early. But it’s weird, because, like, I say that to Emma when I’m texting her. It’s no big deal. But with Spence, it’s a BIG DEAL. When in doubt, you go with the heart emoji.
Paige: Later. <3 And Good luck!
Spencer: <3
I miss my guy. But I’ll see him soon, and I have an LSAT to study for, and some Bio I can do, sooo...no more distractions.
“Hey, you.” Not five seconds after I promised myself I’d study, I look up to see Trevor holding out a mug. “Want some spiked cider?”
“Uh, yes, please. What are you doing here? I thought you guys were golfing?”
“Jake is, with your dad and Nathan and Dr. Dickhead’s crew. I begged off. I hate golf.”
“Well, I was just about to spend a few hours studying…”
“Perfect. I was just about to head downtown and do a little shopping? You in?”
“Again, yes, please.” I slide my laptop into my bag and follow Trevor. I’ll have hours on the train to study tomorrow.
Spencer
It’s funny, but I never get nervous before a game. I’m the guy who could barely string a sentence together in front of Paige when we met, and I still do not love getting up in front of my class to give speeches. But pre-game jitters? Nah, not so much. Some guys in the locker room pace a little (I’m looking at you, Herrera), and most of the guys go about their routines while listening to whatever music pumps them up or chills them out.
I tend to hang out and watch the madness. I’m an observer at my core. I guess that’s why I love being a goalie. It’s a unique perspective. From my post, I can watch the action, anticipate the moves, and see each play unfold. And, at any given moment, that fast moving puck could be coming my way, so I need to be prepared at all times.
Watchful and prepared. Yeah, that about sums me up.
And for some reason, tonight, I’m also nervous. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the game. Like I told Paige, it’ll be good to see my mom and Ted, and I won’t even see my dad, but he’ll check in with a thousand texts right after the ending buzzer sounds.
None of that causes me any worry. It’s all typical stuff. I’m used to it.
And I’m not worried about the game against UMass, either. They’re good, but we’re better. And, what’s more, we’re prepared. I trust that every guy in this room is going to leave it all on the ice tonight, so the impending game doesn’t stress me out.
It’s Paige.
Something’s bothering her, and that’s bothering me. I know she gets pressure from her parents about the LSATs, but I feel like there’s more to the story.
And that’s not usually how I roll. I mean, I’m not a total asshole, but other people’s emotions are not always on my radar. Anticipating a forward’s next move as he comes barreling down the ice? Yep. Figuring out how someone is feeling and why they’re feeling that way? Not so much.
But I can read Paige like an open book, which is strange since we haven’t been together that long. But she matters to me...her feelings matter to me...and something seems off and I’m not sure how to make it right.
Even last night, after the game, she wasn’t herself. She came over and we hung out with the guys, shot the shit as usual, but she seemed out of sorts, as my mom would say. I figured she was just tired, or maybe stressed about school, but there’s more to it.
The upcoming LSAT has her nervous as hell. But it’s more than that, too.
I know she’s excited to see her family, especially her brother Jake, this weekend, and I know it’s my home-opener, but I wish I could be there with her. I feel like she needs a buffer and I’d happily volunteer as tribute.
But not right now. Coach just called us all on the ice for warm-ups, but I make a mental note to check in with Paige right after the game. We should be finishing up just as she’s sitting down to dinner.