Page 66 of Creed

Zac closes his eyes, his face etched with pain. “He’s dating someone, Soph.”

My heart aches for my friend, who’s still mostly a secret friend—I seemed to be collecting those—because he’s still trying to maintain his jock, douche canoe, man-whore persona. My heart also aches in what I suspect is empathetic sympathy, because I know if and when Creed starts dating someone, I’ll be in the same boat.

“Zac.” I swallow the emotions clogging my throat. “When is enough enough? You’re miserable and hurting because you’re denying yourself the truth. It’s not even just the relationship with Russ; it’syou. You deserve to be who and what you are. Love who you love freely and live your life for you.”

He sits up quickly on the bed and glares at me. “Just like you’re doing?”

I jerk like he slapped me. Yes, I know I’m a hypocrite. “I let my guard down one time with you, Zac, and you throw it in my face,” I say to deflect the truth of his words.

In a moment of weakness, he pressed me to talk to him when I felt exceptionally sad one day. I confessed I was in love witha guy, but we could never be together. He jokingly tried to get me to open up to him by peppering me with questions, trying to guess why—the guy was married, looked like a toad, lived in Antarctica, was in prison, and was a criminal. Zac must have seen something on my face when he got to that last one because he stopped the joking badgering.

“Soph… I’m sorry. I’m just so fucked up.” He flops back on the bed, lifting the phone so I can still see him. “It would be easier if you and I were in love with each other, huh?” He closes his eyes, relaxing back against the pillows.

“Yeah, it would be. But kinda gross, too.” He pops one eye open to me, and I smirk. “You’re like the brother I never had, so yeah… Ew.”

“Nah, we can’t be like bro and sis. Not when I’m going to announce at tonight’s party that you’re my girl, so that way, I don’t have to fuck or get sucked off by one of the she-skanks there.”

“Don’t you dare,” I shriek. His hoots of laughter cue me into his joke, and I curl my lip at him. “You can say no, you know.”

He sighs. “It’s all part of the image. I’m too far down the rabbit hole to turn back and dig myself out now.”

“Zac… You gotta know, that’s bullshit.”

“It’s okay, Soph.” He sits up. “How’s your project coming?”

“Zac.”

He shakes his head, a silent plea for me to let him change the subject. “Is it flowing better now that your business proposal is centered around it being a not-for-profit?”

I had resisted the idea of centering my project on a not-for-profit until Creed pointed out—in a lengthy lecture that would have made my professors proud—that a not-for-profit is a business and needs greater recognition. Once I did, the project that had felt like hell flowed easily, especially since I was essentially designing my dream job.

“It is. I’m researching all the wrap-around supports the women and children might need when fleeing domestic abuse.”

My project isn’t only for a shelter or temporary housing for those women and children. It also includes supportive long-term housing they can transition to, counseling, mental health and addiction services, and primary health care, like immunizations, wound care, general health, eye, and dental… It would be comprehensive. But what I’m incredibly proud of was including the things that would help the women and children get out of poverty—whether that’s access to education opportunities, skill training for employment, or childcare while the women got their education or were working. It’s an upstream model to help address the root causes and break the cycle of poverty and domestic violence.

It’s huge. Overwhelming. And I love it because it’s my passion work.

If I could have any job, instead of worrying about one that would help provide for my extended family—and if I had accessto funds and start-up capital—it would be to build this not-for-profit. But that isn’t my reality.

It’s nice to dream, and it will be a kickass project when it’s done—maybe one that someone else would take and run with instead of me.

“You have the biggest and best heart, Soph. Plus, coupled with that big brain of yours, you can help change the world. You can’t waste that all on an accounting major.”

“That’s the safest path. There are lots of jobs, good-paying jobs,” I stress. “Plus, there are lots of different things I could specialize in within the accounting field.”

“What a waste.”

“I could say the same thing,” I snap.

“Dayum, girl, you’re feisty.” There’s a pounding on his door, and he scowls, looking away from the phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, shitheads.”

“Is the almighty Zac Watkins being summoned to preside over his court?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “You sure you won’t come tonight?”

“One thousand percent sure.”

“I had to try.”

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