I should be focused on volleyball tryouts. I should be thinking about footwork, aim, passing, form—all that. But nah. I'm thinking about what those girls said yesterday.
"He's cute but probably got a small dick."
That echo lives in my skull rent-free. Why do I care? I don't even like them. But here I am, spiraling.
"HEY GUYS! I'm Coach Jones," a voice cuts through the air like a slap. "After today, only eight of you are making this team. NOW get in the gym and work out for an hour. GO!"
Hold up… work out? Like just… lift stuff?
I'm standing there, confused, when this loud dude—James—decides it's roast time.
"I can tell you're weak. That's why you got that hoodie on. Hiding your skinny ass."
Sir. I was talking to myself. Why are you in my monologue?
I sigh, annoyed, and take off my hoodie and shirt as I walk past him, revealing my secret weapon: a surprisingly jacked upper body. Years of angry push-ups in my room when I couldn't sneak out finally paying off.
James does a cartoon double-take. "GOD DAMN—yo, you're supposed to be a little nerd! The type that just gets straight A's 'cause you can't afford college."
"Anthony, you spotting me?" I ask, ignoring James.
"Yeah, bro, I got you."
Tryouts end, and now all I can do is wait. I hit the showers and my phone buzzes mid-soap.
It's Drew. Here we go.
"Yo Dylan," he says, not even a hello, "have you ever had sex yet?"
"Drew. Who the hell would I be having sex with?"
"I mean, you never know. I got these large condoms that don't fit. You want 'em?"
"Bro. I'm in the shower."
"Ohh my bad—you jerkin' it?"
"NO?! I'm just tryna go to bed after this, damn."
But he got me thinking. I do wonder what it feels like. Not in a desperate way. Just curious. But no girlfriend means no action, and no action means I'm stuck imagining things like a weirdo.
The Next Morning
Buzz.
I check my phone.
"You made the team. Practice at 9:00."
SHIT. It's 8:55.
I fly down the stairs, yelling, "Bye Mom! Bye Dad!" and peel out of the driveway like it's Fast & Furious: Volleyball Drift.
At practice, Coach says we're doing a 4v4 scrimmage. Everyone looks around like they've never played before. I grab a random squad and we start.
It's chaos.
The ball's not even going back and forth. I'm just sending it over the net, scoring instantly. It's like I'm playing against toddlers.
Then—of course—my teammates trip over each other, trying to set, and one of them rips my shirt clean off mid-jump.
Just great.
I look left and see them—those girls from yesterday.
"Wow, he's jacked," one of them whispers.
The one talking is Amber. Cute. Not really my type though. Even if she does have… assets.
"He's really hot. I didn't think he was actually good at this," I catch Khalani saying, probably not realizing I can read lips.
Then James, the human loudspeaker, shouts,
"Ask him out, Amber! You know you want to!"
"I'll try," she says, cheeks flushed.
We win the scrimmage. Shocker.
Still shirtless, I'm cooling down when this girl walks up to me.
It's Kaylee.
"Hey, Dylan. You know me—I'm in your third hour?"
"Yeah, I know," I nod, trying to play it cool.
"I really like you," she says. "I wanna go out sometime."
My brain freezes. She's cute. Not girlfriend status yet, but maybe this is like... stage one. Talking stage. Soft launch.
"Let me think about it," I say.
She hands me her number. "Text me."
Two Weeks Later
We've been texting nonstop. Joking. Flirting. Sending memes. The usual. Turns out Kaylee's actually fun. She asks me out officially and—why not—I say yes.
Later that week, I'm walking with my guy Jace.
"Yo, Jace. You haven't met my girlfriend yet. Amber—this is Jace."
"Nice to meet you… I guess," he says, clearly caught off guard.
"What are you guys doing later?" he asks, all awkward-like.
"Nothing much," I shrug.
After school, I roll up to Amber's place. We're chilling on her couch watching this rom-com. It's mid, but I keep glancing over at her. Her lips. Her neck. That soft smile.
My thoughts get loud. What that mouth do?
Around 10 p.m., my mom calls. "Come home."
I ask if I can stay at a friend's house. She hesitates. I toss the phone to Dad. He convinces her with zero effort. MVP.
She says yes.
She doesn't know I'm staying here.
I need to do something before I leave.
I stand up, walk to Amber. She looks at me like she's been waiting. I gently pin her to the wall, stare into her eyes, and lean in for a kiss…