First Flight, Final Fall

by C.W. Farnsworth

That’s a problem only denial can fix.

I’m expecting to one day be known by nothing aside from the fact that I coached you for a summer.”

“That’s got ketchup in it,” I blurt. Beck looks up at me. Really looks at me, and I forget we’re standing in a glorified cafeteria in Canada. “Thanks.” I shrug. “I may not want you here, but anaphylactic shock seemed harsh. I don’t exactly think there’s a hospital around the corner. Unless they drove like you, no one would ever get you there in time.” I’m revealing far too much about the knowledge I’ve retained concerning Adler Beck, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he appears entertained by it. “Don’t go crazy with the compliments.” “That wasn’t one.”

“Otto hung a sign that says, ‘Saylor Scott’s Inspiration’ above my locker,” Beck states. A reluctant grin tugs at my lips. “That’s kind of funny.” It’s also nice to know he didn’t totally erase me from his life the way I’ve tried to remove him from mine. “I thought so, too,” Beck admits. “Not that I’ll ever tell him that.”

We split off. I sprint through the first two grids, Beck plays me a flighted ball, and I send it into the goal. He doesn’t congratulate me, just nods. Like it’s exactly what he expected. Somehow, that’s better.

Beck rolls his eyes. “I want you, Saylor. Just you.” I stare at him, totally shocked. “Be serious, Beck.” “I am.” “I don’t even know what that means.” “It means I want to date you. Be in a relationship. Whatever you want to call it. I want you, Saylor.”

she really said bffr

she glances between us, obviously trying to discern our relationship. I wish her luck because I’m unclear on it myself.

“You’re a slow driver,” he comments. “Law-abiding,” I correct. “Slow,” Beck insists. “Well, not everyone can get themselves out of a ticket the way you can. I’m not famous.” “Yet.” The words are matter of fact.

“You need to work on your left touch still,” Beck informs me as he walks over to where I’m stretching, loudly enough for most of my teammates to hear. “I only take advice from footballers who have won a gold medal,” I retort.