Telegraph Ave

Chapter 32: Urban

Stacy POV...

=The Weekend=

Mom opened the windows throughout the house, as she and dad proceeded to make Sunday dinner. The skies are partially clouded and the breeze sways it's way throughout our home—dancing in the curtains. The aroma of asparagus smothered the air, while roasting in the oven. My dad added ingredients to his homemade Bar-B Q glaze, after churning the garlic mash potatoes. Mom's protein of choice was air fried chicken thighs, and the more I observed the more my stomach wept. Miss D also offered to make desert, so she's still preparing it back her home but Xavier's with me.

Speaking of those two, I'm more excited for this Sunday's dinner because they managed to make it. Even though they didn't have a choice, according to my parents. Furthermore, this past week has been rather productive for us all. My father had to map out a blueprint for a couple's home, my mom had to go out of town for her shoe company, Miss Dixon had an operation that lasted 18 hours, Xavier was hustling on the football field, and I was busting my ass on the volleyball court.

I believe we could all use a delightful meal.

I just wish I would've ate lunch...

Anyway, besides me struggling not to eat my boyfriend's fingers, I was astuounded to hear that he managed to make the starting line up. I was overjoyed, but more impressed at the fact he had only been to training for 2 days before they moved him up. He told me the story on how he got the position, and how he maintained it throughout the rest of the week. "It was a fatigued rollercoaster" he expressed. I understood where he was coming from as an athlete, cause I had a target on my back once. However, he's not the guaranteed starter—nobody is as of now. Yet, he's ahead of everybody else in his position.

As of now I'm sitting on the living room floor with my legs crossed, while Xavier massages my scalp. Exquisite Tension sounds from the speakers planted within our walls, soothing the mood of my home. My eyes are closed once more, as I absorb the environment like the ocean. Xavier motions between my hair like water dripping down a branch, and it's causing me to feel sleepy. What's the point of dosing off before Sunday dinner? I guess I'll make conversation to stay awake.

"When did you first start to playing football?" I asked with my eyes still closed.

"I started playing when I was only 6, or 7 years old." He responds. "Truth be told I didn't like football at all."

He lying...

"Now I know that's a lie."

"I'm not even joking."

I opened my eyes in awe. "You once never liked football? You serious?"

"Yeah, for a crazy reason too." He laughs

"And what was that reason Mr. Dixon?"

"I hated running."

I snickered. "You didn't like football because you hated running?"

"Yeah, I was a butterball, and my addiction was honeybuns?"

I commenced to laugh. "I remember you telling me that. You were spoiled."

"Yeah." He chuckles under his breathe. "But, when I found the importance of running, I did a lot of that over the summers in middle school. I was becoming skinny, so I had to eat a lot but healthier. Then I became really big, in muscle mass."

"I see that." Turning my head towards him. "You're not too big, nor to small. You're just right." I caressed his chin.

He grabs my hand and kisses the surface. "How'd you start playing volleyball?"