Page 1 of His Shy Girl

1

Brennon

“Mom, seriously. Why can’t I just get an apartment next year?”

I reach for another mini quiche, but she smacks my hand away, giving me a glare.

“Quit, Bren! These are for my Bunco group. You can have the leftovers later. I’m sure there will be plenty. You know how these ladies eat. They peck like birds. But it’s all about the presentation.” She hands me one more, smirking, then continues on plating her hors d’oeuvres so they’re placed in a perfect tier.

If the women are coming over, that means I’ll be spending the evening locked inside my room tonight. The last thing I want is to get caught in the crossfire of another matchmaking session by those ladies. Those women are like vultures. Every time they come over, someone tries to set me up with their daughter, or niece, or babysitter. I’m running out of excuses for why I’m notavailable to go out with any of them. And mom’s no help. Last time, she was arguing their side, telling me I need to stop being so picky and give one of the girls a chance.

But none of those girls are my type. My interest dies when they start talking about clothes or the latest social media trend. Or my least favorite topic: other girls, which Mom says is what every female does so I just have to accept the fact and get over it.

Call me a dreamer, but I’d like to think there’s at least one girl out in the world who shares some common interests with me. A love for action movies. Sports. Preferably video games. A girl whose main staple is carbs and doesn’t insist on eating like a rabbit. I cringe at the thought of having to spend the rest of my life listening to the latest girl drama while I’m trying to unwind from a grueling day on the field. I’d like to find someone who will actually have some kind of interest in my football career and can talk things out with me, not just nod her head and smile as she picks through her salad.

“And to answer your question about the apartment, Bren…” Mom plops her spatula into the sink. “It doesn’t make sense for us to pay for housing when the scholarship covers your room and board.”And had I not gotten a scholarship, they’d be paying for everything out of pocket, so technically I’m saving them money.“Besides, the experience will be good for you, kiddo. The dorms can be fun. You’ll get to meet so many people and make new friends. You’ll see.”

I’ll be meeting tons of guys by playing on the team. They’re the ones I’ll be spending most of my time with, especially during football season. My main concern is coming back after a game and finding my dorm room trashed. What if I get stuck with someone who’s a complete slob and stinks like BO? Someone who snores all night or has some nasty habits like leaving toenail clippings all over the place? Or hacks up loogies every morning? Fucking gross. Just because I fill out the interest form, it doesn’tguarantee I’ll be matched with someone decent. I’ve heard some real horror stories of people getting stuck with the worst roommates, and knowing my luck, that will be the case.

“And what if I get paired with a drug addict, Mom? The RA could come in for a routine check and find paraphernalia in our room. I could get kicked off the team because I was stuck with a crackhead and didn’t even know it. Or what if they put me with someone who brings girls back to fuck every night and I’m forced to go sleep in my truck? How am I supposed to get up for practice when my neck is cramped and I’m running on fumes? Do you really want your sweet, innocent son being subjected to all that?”

I’m going for broke, trying to break her down, and by the look crossing her face, I think it may be working. If there’s one thing I know about my mom it’s that she’s a mama bear, protective through and through. And if there’s even a remote chance I could be harmed in the situation, she won’t stand for it.

“I’ll tell you what, if you can find someone to room with, I’ll talk to your father about getting you an apartment. I just don’t like the idea of you living by yourself, Bren. Knowing you, you’ll lock yourself away on the weekends, playing those video games, and will never get out to meet anyone.”

And what’s wrong with that? A guy needs to be able to unwind after a grueling week of classes and football practice. And it’s not like I play the video games by myself. I play with my friends. It’s a good way for me to stay in touch with my friends back home.

“Not possible, Mom. I’m going to be at the football games on Saturday and partying afterwards with the team. Sunday will be my day to crash and get ahead on homework. I’ll be lucky if I have time to play Kanturia.”

Her brow cocks up, knowing that’s a load of bullshit. I’ve been a procrastinator my entire life. She knows it’s not goingto stop when I go away to college and don’t have her breathing down my neck to get my work done. But if she gets me my own place and I don’t have to live in one of those cramped dorm rooms, in a bed that will barely hold my huge frame, and where I have to schedule masturbation sessions for when my roommate isn’t in the room, I’ll become the most organized student ever. I’ll get straight A’s if I have to. Heck, she should make that a stipulation and I’ll end up graduating Cum Laude.

“I’m not going to make any promises about the apartment until I speak with your father. But I can beverypersuasive when I need to be so it may be wise for you to start looking around for a place and check out the reviews.”

“Gross, Mom!” I shake my head, trying to shake the thought out of mind. “I don’t want to hear that shit.” My ears are burning now. No kid wants to think about their parents having sex. We all want to believe that after we were conceived, all physical relations between them stopped.

She laughs and hands me another quiche. “For your scarred little mind. Now, run along so I can get this place ready for tonight. I still have the cookies to bake.”

I walk around the counter and place a kiss on the top of her head. “Thanks for considering the apartment, Mom. Means a lot.”

She smiles up at me. “Anything for my boy.” And I can already tell from the look on her face that it’s a done deal. Now, I just need to find myself a roommate. Someone chill and fun, and who isn’t going to crowd my space. Someone who likes football, video games, throwing an occasional party but isn’t interested in having a kegger every night. I also don’t want to live with some metal-head who wants to blast music 24/7. If I want to keep my position on the team, I have to keep my grades up and get some sleep. Which means I need to live with someone who’s somewhat responsible. But I also don’t want to get stuckwith a book nerd who’s going to get pissed with me for watching football on Sundays. I can get loud during the games. So the ideal would be to find another football player to live with.

As soon as I’m locked inside my room, I’m logging onto my computer. The first thing I need to do is join the incoming 2025 freshman group to get the lowdown. Good news is I’ve got a few months to feel things out before the dorm applications are due, so that gives me some time to find someone cool to live with. But as I scroll through the chat, looking at people’s posts, I’m getting the sense that no one wants to live with a jock. One of the guys wrote: “Looking for a roommate. Please NO Jocks. And no frat boys.” There seem to be a lot of postings like that, which pisses me off. Just because I play football, doesn’t make me a meathead. But what-the-fuck-ever. I’m looking for someone who’ll be playing on the team with me anyway, so I’ll keep scrolling.

2

Willow

Iread through all the new messages, adding my little comments here and there, liking pictures that people have posted of themselves in their Devil’s gear. I keep scrolling, looking for any new roommate postings. There are a couple, but all of them are posted by guys— which is never going to happen. I can’t even speak to a boy, let alone live with one.

“Willow, sweetie.”

I nearly jump in my chair, my heart lodging in my throat at the sound of my mom’s voice.

“Sorry, sweetie. Didn’t mean to startle you.” She enters my room slowly, tiptoeing like she’s afraid I’ll spook again. Wow, she looks pretty all dressed up. It’s been a while since she’s worn a dress or makeup. But her brow is now crinkled in worry and her red lips are dipped down in concern.

“I-i-it-t-t’s o-k-k-k-ay.” My words come out rougher than usual, but that’s because my heart hasn’t quite made its way back to its home yet.

“Just take a deep breath, sweetie.”

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