Grey Waters

8: Kennedy

Come on Kennedy, don't be a pussy. Do it.

I'm perched on the edge on my sofa staring at my phone and trying to convince my self to text Sanders. Well I might actually be trying to convince myself not to text him.

After what happened last night and the weird phone call earlier that day I got next to no sleep for like the 50th day in a row and called in sick to work. Karma, please don't fire me for this either. I'll work a double next week, promise. I just need some time to decompress and think over all my life choices that have led me here. All I can think about is those fuckers circling me like a wounded animal. Literally where do men get the audacity to be such pigs? Sighing, I look back down at my phone.

Me: Hi! It's Kennedy. Thanks again for last night. I know you're friends with Greyson and that he boxes so I'm guessing you would know about gyms right? I was just wondering if you know any that offer self defence classes.

That's good right? I thanked him which was nice, made sure he knows who it even is, and got straight to the point. Maybe I should take out the I know you're friends with Greyson part because what if he doesn't remember seeing me on campus? And thinks I'm just some crazy fan girl or something? Kennedy he literally said he knows who you are last night. Maybe I'll just change Greyson to Greyson Kingsley... less fan behaviour.

After changing his name, I reread the message three more times and the whole time that tiktok audio that's like "aiyo bring me a shot" is playing in my head because I think I might need a shot to send the message. I decide on using Coco's paw because then it's on him.

My plan ends up failing and I end up with a couple new scratches curtesy of my best friend and companion Coco Chanel. Just for that I'm putting his sweater on tonight. Now he's hiding under the couch and I have my feet tucked under me above him, just incase he decides to go for the ankles.

Send the fucking text Kennedy it's not that big of a deal. Right. Right, not that big of a deal. Okay, I lll do it. I take two deep breaths, close my eyes, and hit the blue arrow.

"AHHHHHH!" Before I know it I'm throwing my phone across the room to my arm chair and burying my face in the couch. "I sent it, I sent it, I sent it."

••

For the past 2 hours I've been checking my phone every 5 minutes with no hope. He's probably never gonna respond. Might as well give up, move states, change my name.

While I'm deciding on my new name for my new identity, my phone vibrates on the coffee table. I think I stare at it for atleast 5 minutes.

By the time I pick up my phone to look at the text I've already created every possible mean reply in my head, therefore nothing can hurt me. I've also prepared for the fact that it might not even be from Sanders. Maybe it's my sister. Or Sam.

Oh shit, Sam. Are we going to the book place today? Or tomorrow? Or never? Maybe it was a fake invite. If it was, it's her loss because I was gonna buy her Starbucks for inviting me. Sucks to suck. Rationally I know it probably wasn't a fake invite and that she'll text me when we're going but it's good to have low hopes.

The text is from Sanders. And it's not mean. It's actually pretty nice.

Sanders: Yeah, I know a few gyms that offer self defence classes. Platinum on Eastlake has a good one. There's a class tonight at 7. I'll send you the address.