2nd ♕

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2nd

But the flyer, for some reason, stayed inside my pocket until I arrived at the animal shelter, where I was working part time. I had delivered back the ingredients that Mom no. 2 needed for our lunch, before I went to the shelter to waste away time. And that was when I realized why it did—why a part of me didn't remember throwing the flyer away.

"George, can you come to my office? There's something I need to tell you." These were the first words I heard from Abram, old man, as soon as I put down my worn out backpack inside my locker.

Abram slid quietly into his office after calling me. I looked at Pete, one of my coworkers here and also a good friend, asking him, "Did I do something wrong?"

"I don't know." Pete shrugged his shoulders, and then he pointed the tip of the mop he was holding to Abram's office. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."

"Are you really doing that? That's so lame for a guy," I commented. Since he had graduated from high school a year before me, we just saw each other here in the animal shelter. He was taking up B.S. Biology as a prep course for Veterinary School. Whenever he didn't have classes in the afternoon, he usually helped around here.

He cocked an eyebrow. "So now you're an expert on being a guy?"

"I'm just saying."

Pete turned the mop tip to my direction, and it gingerly landed on my head. "You're so cute, Georgey."

Shoving the mop aside, I warned him, "Stop calling me by that name."

"Georgey? Georgey? Oh, how I love calling you that." Pete laughed.

"Strangely, I haven't noticed," I said, readily losing interest on getting back at him.

His face suddenly lit up, as if remembering something important. "Wait, about the summer meet, will you make it? The one sponsored by those royal dudes. We'll call up some of the guys from my school and make a team. I was talking to Darcy the other day. I told her that I know someone who could fill up one of the four. Someone really good, I added."

"Is this the Darcy you're trying to land a date with?" I teased him.

"How many Darcy do you think I know?" he asked, incredulously.

"I know two, including yours," I answered. With a grin, I added, "Although, she's not yours exactly."

"Don't rub it in, dude. I'm trying," Pete replied, putting down the mop and the bucket he was holding. He usually kept his hair in minimal order. Most of the time, like now, his slightly curled dark brown locks were almost touching the tip of his eyes.

He began massaging his tired arms. Pete was lightweight for a guy, but his arms and legs were well-toned. We were both included in the track team back in high school. Pete had pioneered the act. Since he had turned out to be the only friend I had left in school during that time, he took me to the places he frequented. It was how I had ended up being a member of the track team in the first place.

Eventually, it turned out that I was good at running. It was the only thing that I could openly brag about. And because of that, I was given a sports scholarship by Triavia University. If not for Pete's insistence that I should join the track team several years back, I would have lost the only chance I had of attending college.

I had no idea what was out there for me. But maybe it was better to end up somewhere than to continue standing on the same place, still thinking. Never moving. Never knowing what could be up ahead.

"Just admit that you got turned down," I told him.

"I wasn't. Give it time," he answered.

"For?"

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