Where: A field near the dorms When: August 20th Time: 10:14pm (closed to @striker-brayden)
Practice at 6am should mean he goes to bed earlier rather than later, just like blowing off his classes today to help the Vixens should mean that Grayson goes through his newly assigned readings tonight to make up for it—but instead 10pm finds him out on one of the fields, the closest thing he can find to an open space within walking distance of the dorms.
He tells Brayden they should meet here so Sterling can’t yell at them for smoking or drinking in their dorm, but that’s not the entire truth. It’s stupidly nostalgic, and he’d never admit to Brayden, but he likes looking up at the night sky sometimes. He doesn’t fully understood the constellations, but he’d always liked being outside on the ranch by moonlight, and this is vaguely reminiscent of that.
He can lay on his back against grass that’s somehow still slightly warm from the afternoon’s absurd heat, not quite pretending to be home, because he doesn’t want that either, but staring upwards and imagining he can bring together the parts he likes from both here and Dubois—Wyoming is beautiful, but it’s lonely, even with his dad there; Palmetto means the Foxes and temporary chance to put down the legacy his family carries in Dubois, but it’s not home.
Ultimately, the problem isn’t either place though. In the end, he’s the reason he can’t quite fit in anywhere. It’s hard to hold onto anything with bloody hands.
Grayson sits up when he hears footsteps, squinting in the dim lighting for his roommate. “Here,” he calls out, holding out a pack of cigarettes as a bribe. They don’t hang out, not really, but Grayson needs to get out of the room sometimes, and he knows Brayden feels the same—albeit for different reasons. He’d feel bad for Brayden, living with someone he’s so clearly hung up on, except it’s obvious Arlo feels the same way. “How was the first day back in class? Paint any masterpieces?”