Chapter Text
I pull one last, long breath of fresh autumn air into my lungs before jogging up the steps to the dining hall.
Senior year is going to be different – I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but it will be. There’s a shift in the air, the energy here, that has my blood pumping in a more hopeful way than it has in a while.
Maybe it’s that the last few practices have gone exceedingly well with a semi-decent football team taking shape and improving with each drill and training session. Maybe it’s my class schedule, which should be a breeze this semester – even in spite of the dreaded biology course. It’s a relief that classwork won’t get in the way of practice and I might actually get some decent opportunities for rest in between. Mostly though, it’s my final year at Mayfair University and all in all, my time here has been pretty fucking great – everything the stereotypical college experience should be.
Scanning the mass of students, it’s not hard to pick out Fife and Will. Fife, a skinny, six-foot, cocky-as-fuck kicker, gestures wildly as he talks with John, our best receiver. I would probably never be friends with Fife in any other situation, but he’s a teammate and has been since high school. I just have to do my best to keep his ego and chauvinism in check while still respecting his singular ability to save our team’s ass from time.
Next to him is Will, a huge, passionate lineman with a heart to match. No one would dare cross him but if they did, they would find one gigantic teddy bear of a guy. It’s a surprising juxtaposition that I absolutely love about the man. He’s my best friend and likely will be long after we graduate.
“Bridgerton!” Will’s deep voice carries over the din, echoing off the block walls and tile floor. Most people don’t even look up anymore when they hear his distinctive boom. “What the hell took you so long?”
As I look down at the table, I see almost everyone has finished with their first helping of breakfast and will no doubt be heading for their second soon.
“Sorry. Had to make sure I have all my shit for classes,” I say, patting my backpack filled with everything I need for my first three courses of the year, knowing there’s very limited time in between them to grab anything else.
Will shoves me down into a chair, then snatches a biscuit sandwich from Joe Wilding’s plate and plops it in my hand, ordering me to “Eat.”
If he had stolen anyone else’s food, I would have handed it back and gone to get my own, but Wilding’s an asshole, so I just smirk and scarf it down in four bites. It’s not enough though, so I get up and search for more sustenance on my own.
While standing in line, I catch a flash of red hair out of the corner of my eye. I try to ignore it, but I’ve never really been able to. And this year it might send me half out of my wits because I know she’s here somewhere.
Eloise told me her best friend was transferring in for her sophomore year. With that information in mind, I investigate further, keeping my eyes fixed on those red curls that are slightly obscured by passing students. Whoever it is, they’re short. They’re talking to another student – Margaret Goring, I think. Fife’s been after her for at least a year – won’t shut up about her. It’s a good thing Maggie actually has standards and keeps a healthy distance from the man-child.
If only her conversation partner would turn around so I could see their face. I would recognize it in an instant.
I move forward in line and by the time my attention turns back to the pair, I’ve lost them. Inexplicably, my heart starts pounding in panic. I do my best not to dissolve into a frantic mess and start spinning around, hoping to catch a glimpse of ginger hair again. Instead, my eyes do the work, flicking this way and that, until I spot her.
Her.
Penelope.
She’s heading my way, more than likely in search of the exit which is just behind me. I straighten, making myself as tall as possible while the tray in my hands fights for dear life against my vice-like grip.
There’s a moment when her eyes meet mine. I start to smile but she looks away, her focus back on the door just past my shoulder.
Did she see me? Did she even recognize me? How could she not?
Sure, my hair is slightly longer than the last time she saw me and I have been able to grow a reasonable amount of facial hair since then, but of all people, Penelope Featherington would never forget me – at least I hope not.
She breezes past and all I can do is watch her leave.
“Dude, move.” The guy behind me gives me a push and I finally realize that my feet have remained planted in the same spot while at least three people ahead have already moved on, scooping slop onto their plates.
“S-sorry,” I mutter, my voice suddenly drowning in stomach acid.
Penelope is here and this will be the year I finally get her to talk to me.
🍁🏈🍂🎒🍂🏈🍁
The first two classes of the day come and go. Boring, first day shit – syllabus, grading scales, reading assignments. Nothing I can’t handle.
Biology is next. My last class of the day and I can’t wait for it to be over – not just for today, but for the entire semester. I’ve avoided any prerequisite science courses up until now, knowing that it might be the one thing that affects my ability to play, having to maintain a C or better in all my classes to keep a starting position on the roster. I’m probably the oldest student in this class, so I sit myself at the back of it hoping no one will notice.
They might not notice me, but I notice her. Again.
Penelope saunters into the room just ahead of the professor and finds a seat at the far right of the class, several rows ahead of me.
Throughout the lecture, I’m distracted. Every time she shifts in her seat. Every time she plays with one of her curls. When she twirls her pen around in her fingers, I see the same opal ring wrapped around her middle finger – the one she’s worn every day since she was thirteen years old.
God, I fucking miss her.
I’ve gotten pretty good at suppressing that ache over the last couple years, but seeing her now, it surfaces with a vengeance. Whether she wants to talk to me or not – I’m betting not, but sue me for being hopeful – I have to talk to her, to see her up close and look into those icy blue eyes that carry a surprising warmth that always used to make me smile, even in my worst moments.
“Pen!”
Class concludes and I immediately spring from my seat, practically running down the aisle toward her as she slides her notebook into her lavender backpack, jingling with adorable cat keychains as she zips it shut.
“Pen,” I repeat once I’m closer. She looks up and I see her mouth twitch, almost ready to break a smile, but she doesn’t.
She quickly slings her backpack over her shoulders. “Colin,” she replies stoically, barely giving me a second look.
At least she recognizes me.
“I’m, uh…I’m glad to see you here. Eloise told me you were transferring,” I say cheerfully, trying my damndest to keep her from freezing me out entirely. It’s easy to do that through text, but face-to-face? Good luck, babe.
“Yeah, I think I’ll like it here,” she replies, turning to leave with the rush of other students. I follow helplessly, like a goddamn puppy.
“I’m sorry Danbury didn’t work out for you.” I’m talking to her back, which kind of pisses me off, actually. She keeps walking out the door and into the bright sunlight of early afternoon.
At least she engages with me by answering, “Yeah, they cut my minor program, so I didn’t really have another choice.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I say sincerely. I didn’t know that happened. Danbury was her dream and it sucks she doesn’t get to see it through.
“Not much I can do about it. Just rolling with the punches, like always.”
She’s so fucking distant when she speaks. It’s off-putting and infuriating because this is not at all the Penelope I know – the Penelope I knew. We used to seek each other out when one of us needed encouragement or comfort, but now, she’s making me feel like a nuisance – like shit, quite frankly – but I have to keep trying.
“Hey, could we—” I do a little jog so that I can get ahead of her and turn to face her so we’re actually talking like normal human beings, even if I am now walking backwards. “Could we get lunch or something sometime? Catch up? I’ve missed you,” I say pathetically. I didn’t really mean for that last bit to come out, but it did and I’m kind of glad for it, even though her response practically knocks me on my ass.
She stops dead in her tracks and scoffs with a rancid, incredulous smile, “You missed me?”
“Y-yeah,” I sputter with a shoulder shrug. “We haven’t talked in years and I…I just want to know what you’ve been up to – how you’ve been?”
Penelope’s eyes narrow and her plump, pink lips spread into a thin line as she hums. I can’t help the way my face scrunches as I look at her, desperately trying to unravel this disdain she seemingly has for me. I’m not delusional enough to believe that a reunion like this would be all warmth and hugs and giggles, but I certainly didn’t expect this level of grotesque anger.
I’ve never seen her angry – especially not with me. This is completely new and uncharted territory and I’m like a deer in headlights. A baby without its pacifier. I’m as clueless as ever about why she shut me out of her life completely and it fucking hurts.
Then, she throws a dagger, hitting me square in the chest like a trained assassin.
“If I wanted to share my life with you, I would have done so, Colin. There’s nothing to discuss. You can prod Eloise for information if you’re so inclined, but I’m here to learn, not to be distracted by some pretty-boy jock who spends his time chasing footballs and women.”
The dagger twists, piercing my lungs and stealing my breath for a moment. She brushes past me and the only words I can utter after a single gasp of air are, “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”
“Yeah, see you around,” she says, waving an indifferent hand over her shoulder.
So, that’s it, huh? This is what we are to each other now – acquaintances. Not even cordial acquaintances? I converse with myself, saying the things I wish I was brave enough to say to her directly.
I don’t know what to do about this, clearly. I haven’t figured it out in almost three years and no one has provided me with any clues as to why my former friend opted for radio silence when I left for college.
I asked her a million times if I did something wrong, if she was mad at me, if she was upset that I had chosen Mayfair University over Danbury College where her heart was set on enrolling. We had imagined that journey together – being on the same campus, eating breakfast or lunch together and finding new favorite hangouts. But Mayfair offered me a scholarship and I wanted to play for a more prestigious football team. Maybe that was an incredibly selfish decision when I knew how excited Penelope was at the prospect of us being at Danbury together.
Even so, she never gave me any indication whether or not that was the reason for the cold shoulder. The ignored texts and phone calls that went straight to voicemail, never to be returned. The complete avoidance at my sister Daphne’s graduation party the year after mine.
Penelope did a complete about-face in regards to our friendship and after this brief, cold interaction, it’s pretty clear that I’m just going to have to accept it. She’s under no obligation to be nice to me and I suppose I’m really not either. I have tried on multiple occasions and I can’t afford to lose focus in my last year chasing her around, begging for forgiveness over something I’m clueless about.
Though it’s taken years to get it through my thick skull, I am now certain that Penelope Featherington is no longer my friend.