Page 14 of Unrivaled

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something as I stop in front of his house, but then shakes his head and doesn’t say anything.

“You sure there’s nothing bothering you?” I ask before he can get out.

“Nah.” He clears his throat. “Nah, it’s fine. See ya later.” And with that, he’s gone.

CHAPTER SIX

Tiffany

Relief washes through me as the class applauds for our scene. Jackson, Autumn, and I link hands and take our bow like this was a real performance and not just an assignment for our drama class. But according to our professor, giving and receiving applause is a life lesson as well. Something about learning to show appreciation where appropriate and also how to graciously accept compliments even if you think they’re undeserved.

Either way, I’m just happy this scene is done and that it went well. I’ve never thought of myself as someone who could get stage fright—I mean, I performed countless cheerleading routines at packed football and basketball games, including halftime performances and pep rallies. I performed in front of people all the time for three and a half years.

But dancing and doing flips in front of cheering sports fans is a far cry from reciting carefully memorized dialogue—not catchy, rhyming cheers—and having to portray a range of emotions that don’t include peppy and cheerful. Nervous butterflies swooped and dove in my belly as we waited our turn, but once we got in front of the class and the rhythm of the scene we rehearsed so many times already took over, it wasn’t so bad. And now it’s over. I can relax.

The professor rattles off the names of the groups who’ll perform next time and dismisses us.

Standing, I put on my jacket and sling my bag over my shoulder, my thoughts already moving to the available snack options for Ben when we get home this afternoon.

“We should celebrate,” Jackson says. “Grab a drink or a coffee or something.”

“Oh, uh …” I hesitate, caught off guard by his suggestion.

Autumn makes a disappointed face as she pulls her hair out from under her jacket. “I have a class right after this.”

“And I have to get home to Ben.”

Jackson shrugs, unconcerned. “We can pick something up and bring him a treat. Even if it’s just hot chocolate from the coffee shop by the student center. How’s he doing?”

While Autumn digs a piece of paper out of her bag, I cross my arms and study Jackson. “He’s alright. Clingy and sniffly, but no fever. He’ll be bouncing off the walls again in no time.”

“Fine. You win, Jackson,” Autumn says in a put-upon sounding voice that’s contradicted by her wide smile. “How can I resist hot chocolate with the most adorable kid I’ve ever seen? Come on, guys. I had a high paying gig over the weekend. My treat.”

Jackson raises his eyebrows. “What kind of gig?”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waves a hand dismissively in Jackson’s direction and looks at me expectantly. “What do you say, Tiffany?”

“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll let my mom know you’re coming over again. If you really want to celebrate with a three-year-old mucous factory, who am I to say no?”

“That’s the spirit,” Autumn says, chuckling and leading the way out of the room.

Loaded down with drinks and pastries, Jackson and Autumn follow me to my parents’ house, and it feels … good. Maybe Mom’s right, and I have been cutting myself off from trying to make new friends.

When I shared that I was pregnant with my best friends in high school, they were shocked and horrified, even more so when I announced my decision to keep the baby. They promised their support, but once I started online school, their texts and phone calls and time together grew less and less, stopping altogether when they left for college.

Apparently me discussing birth plans and baby gear was a drag. And while I made a few acquaintances at the mommy groups I went to when Ben was a baby, none of them became good enough friends to hang out with outside of that setting. Most of them were older, in their twenties or thirties and married, most already done with college and trying to decide whether to go back to work once their maternity leave was up. And there I was trying to decide how many classes to take, calculating how long it would take to get through my gen eds before I could get to the accounting classes I was really interested in, and deciding whether I should start in the fall or wait until spring.

At least I’ve always had the support of my parents to help with Ben and encourage me to go to college anyway, even if my experience would be different from the majority of my peers—no going away to some new and exciting place, no dorm living, and no rushing and pledging like I’d always planned. Definitely no college cheerleading. Even though I could probably get back into shape for it, I just don’t have the time or the drive anymore.

But I knew and accepted those consequences when I decided to have Ben, and even though sometimes I’m jealous of the carefree existence of most of my classmates, I wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Jackson and Autumn park on the street on either side of the driveway as I let myself in the house, only closing the storm door but leaving the main door open so they can come on in.

“I’m ho-ome,” I call as I step inside, my coffee in one hand and Ben’s small hot chocolate in the other.

“Mama,” comes his congested voice as he pops up from his blanket nest on the couch where he’s been watchingDaniel Tiger. “You’re home.”

I give him a wide smile. “And I brought you a surprise.”

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