Murphy and Me VIII

I did eventually get my keys out of my room. Eventually.

The rest of pre-season passed in an almost-blur. Before I knew it, the rest of campus had moved in and classes were starting. Half awake and kind of behind for getting to breakfast, I ran into Murphy going down the stairs.

Literally.

It's a really good thing he's solid.

He braced himself against the wall, me plastered to his back.

"Sorry," I said, stabbing myself in the top of my head with a bobby pin as I tried to do my hair. While going down the stairs. I'm impressed I didn't stab him somewhere semi-vital.

"It's good," he said, pushing away from the wall. He turned, looked at me. Smiled. "Morning."

"Morning." He looked adorable. Well, he always looked adorable but, damn...who needed breakfast when I had a morning-dose of Murphy?

"Running late?"

"For breakfast." We started down the stairs. "You going to breakfast?"

He shook his head. "Class."

We got to the first floor. He shuffled his feet. "Um...Our first game is Saturday. Will you come?"

I did a really good impression of a lake-trout. He wanted me to come to his game? I can't explain what I was feeling, exactly, but...it was good. Really good.

"Yeah," I said. "I'll go." No idea what I had agreed to, but from the smile - part relief, part shy - I'd done good. Real good.

"Friday," I blurted randomly.

Murphy looked at me oddly.

"Our first game," I clarified. What was I thinking? Seriously. Was I thinking at all that moment? Had my bobby pin done some damage?

No, I realized. I'm just a moron.

"Yeah," he said. "Friday's cool."

"Sweet," and then awkwardness descended. My stomach growled. Murphy chuckled.

"Feed the beast."

Which I took as sufficient permission to flee. Which I promptly did.



"Sasha. What are you doing Saturday? In the afternoon?"

Sasha looked at me over the table cluttered with notebooks. Not already a full day in and we were swamped. Well, Sasha was swamped and I was along for the ride.

"Um, nothing, at the moment," she said. She narrowed her eyes at me. "Why?"

I fidgeted. "Because Murphy asked me to come to his game and I said yes. And I don't want to go alone."

Sasha gaped at me. "He asked you to watch him play?"

"Yeah." My fidgeting continued. "And I'm pretty sure he's going to be sitting on the hill Friday." Which, now that I think about it, makes me sort of nervous.

"Did your brain take a vacation and not tell you?"

I bristled but it was true, though. Maybe I'd stabbed a vital part of my brain with a bobby pin. Could I use that as an excuse for my physics homework?

"Probably," I said, realizing my professor would find the attmpt highly amusing and then deny me spectacularly. Then he'd explain the physics of the smack-down he would have just given me. Wonderful. "Look, if you don't want to go, you don't have to." I searched for the ten-pound brick that was my physics book.

"Oh no," she said, a little too cheerfully. I was leery now. "I want to go." She grinned ferally. "I wanna see what macho-man chest-pounding thing he does to impress you."

I smiled weakly, feeling a headache coming on. This was going to be a truly memorable weekend, I could feel it.

And not only was it Monday, but I was not looking forward to it.