My Player Two

Venus POV

Silverwater, Texas is not exactly my first choice for college. Honestly, it wasn’t even on my radar. I had pictured myself back in California, somewhere near the coast, living in a tiny apartment with string lights, a half-broken futon, and endless takeout options. But my parents had other ideas. They didn’t want me to stay alone in Cali while I figured out the next chapter of my life. So, after a lot of back-and-forth, we struck a deal: I’d do an associate’s degree in programming at a more local community college, then transfer wherever I want after that.

The only reason I agreed? They are paying for it all. Tuition, dorm, meals, maybe even anything else I can try convincing them to throw in. So here we are, unloading a rental truck my dad insists we need just to move me into my dorm. Small boxes everywhere, tangled cords, and the smell of fresh cardboard mixing with the faint scent of the Texas air.

“Hey, at least it’s a suite, so you’ll have your own bedroom—” my dad says, trying his best to sound upbeat. He always does this, the eternal optimist, probably a side effect of spending decades convincing nervous patients that everything is going to be okay. I offer a half-hearted smile. “Well, hopefully my roommate doesn’t turn our shared bathroom and living space into a disaster zone,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

He laughs, the sound warm and steady, and hoists the brand-new TV box he insists is essential for the “shared space experience.” I roll my eyes at him—becuase he really thinks a 55-inch screen can smooth over possible roommate tensions.

My mom, meanwhile, is glued to her laptop in the passenger seat, fingers flying over the keyboard, headset on, totally absorbed in whatever high-stakes case she’s juggling. Not that it bothers me; it’s kind of comforting in a way. She has been doing her fancy lawyer work online ever since Covid-19 flipped the world upside down, so her office is basically wherever she can set up her laptop.

It’s weird, though. This town, this move—it feels like a compromise. My dad’s career is the reason we are here, my mom has already adapted effortlessly to remote life, and somehow, I am the one expected to make the best of it. Still, I’m trying not to let it get under my skin. Everyone has their role to play.

And honestly? The dorm isn’t awful. It has the basics: a bed, desk, mini-fridge, and more mental space than I’d had back home. Maybe, just maybe, this is going to work.

I grab the last bag out of the back seat of the oversized truck and tap my mom on the shoulder. She raises a hand, motioning me to wait. Then, hitting the mute button and switching to the speaker, she sets the phone down. Cue the joy of saying goodbye to my mom while her client rambles on in the background about when they can meet in person. “Sorry, hun—business as usual,” she says, finally looking at me with a small apologetic smile.

I just shrug. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll see you guys on weekends anyway.” I try to make my voice sound brighter than it feels. Before I can say anything else, she’s whisked away by her phone again, fingers flying over the keyboard.

We share a quick hug, and she plants a kiss on my cheek before I turn toward the dorm building, the one I’ll be calling home for the next few semesters.

Inside, the hall stretches narrow and long, the kind that makes every sound echo a little too loudly. My dad has already gotten the TV unboxed and set up on the coffee table he insists I bring just for this purpose. I glance around the living space and mentally note the few items that are not mine: a small rug, a plant that looks like it has survived a drought, and a stack of magazines with covers screaming “college life.”

My dad claps his hands together, pulling me back from my observations. “Alright, kiddo—if you need anything, call me. I’ll see if I can get you a last-minute car pass—”

I groan. “Dad, I told you they don’t let first-years have cars here. Only second-years and up.”

He waves a hand dismissively, like it’s nothing he can’t solve. “Nothing I can’t fix, huh?” He leans in, kisses my cheek just like Mom did, and hands me a small wad of cash wrapped in a rubber band. “Hide this,” he whispers, “don’t tell your mother.” With a wink and a ruffle of my hair, he’s gone, leaving me alone in the dorm’s shared living space, the reality of my new independence settling in.

I set my last bag down and exhale a long, slow breath. My eyes wander to the two bedroom doors. One is blank. The other has a small dry-erase board sign taped to it:

KIM text me, roomie 000-000-0000

A small pang of nervous excitement hits me. As I am typing the number into my phone, the hall door swings open and out bounces a cheery, tall, thin blonde girl. The moment she sees me, she squeals and runs over, practically tackling me into a hug. When she finally lets go, she steps back, looks me up and down, and exclaims, “I love this cute purple pop of color in your hair—God, you are just adorable as a button!”

Her accent is thick, something I can’t quite place, and it takes a second to adjust to it. She grabs my hands, holding them like she’s known me forever, and keeps talking without a pause. “I’m Kim—of course! And you are?”

I blink, a little shell-shocked by the whirlwind of her first impression. She clears her throat expectantly, and I chuckle nervously. “Sorry… I’m Venus.”

Kim’s grin widens, lighting up her entire face. “Perfect name! You really are cute as a button, dear—” She does not stop to breathe, and immediately jumps in with another question. “Is that a Northern accent I hear? What brings y'all the way down here to good ol’ Texas?”

Her big, wide doe eyes search mine for answers, and I can’t help but smile. “Well… originally from California actually, but my dad got a job at the hospital—”

“Next town over,” she finishes for me, because of course she is a local. And with that, she launches into an endless stream of stories about everyone she knows, every hidden spot in Silverwater, and all the little places “you absolutely have to see.”

All I can do is sit on the stiffest couch known to humankind in our dorm, nodding, smiling, and laughing as she talks my ear off for hours. Thank God I’ve eaten earlier—or I probably would starve just from listening to her chatter.

Jayce POV

Buzz… buzz… buzz.

My hand slams down on my phone as I fumble blindly with my eyes closed, trying to make it stop.

I wait for an extra heartbeat, then slowly open my eyes. Sun pours into my small room, stabbing at my eyelids, and I groan.

Time to get up. First day at Silverwater Community College. I shower and brush my teeth faster than ever—because I’m running late. I have a terrible habit of sleeping in and losing track of how many times I hit the snooze button .

Then it hits me. My dad, he is supposed to drive me to class. He is nowhere to be seen.

His truck? Gone.

My stomach sinks. Panic kicks in. I run to the back driveway, hoping he is just loading work gear, but the lot is empty.

“Jayce! What are you running around my house for?” My Nan’s voice cuts through the house, high-pitched and sharp.

I hurry to the living room, biting my nails like it would calm me. “Where’s Dad? He said he’d make sure I got to college when I had classes.”

Nan shakes her head, thoughtful. She hums for a second, then says, “Ah… yes. He took a shift today.”

My chest drops in defeat because he promised.

He promised nothing would get in the way. And I have been saving for a whole year, scraping together every dime, just to afford my first semester—finally taking the graphic arts classes I’d been dreaming about. Now it feels like all of that planning and effort is slipping away before It’s even starting. Everything feels like it is about to implode, and it doesn’t help that Nan starts laughing. I freeze, staring at her in horror as her cackle echoes through the kitchen. Finally, she says, “Jayce… take these.”

Keys fly at me with a speed I didn’t know my old Nan could summon. I catch them, staring at them like they are some kind of prize. “Nan… these are your car keys—”

“I know that,” she cut me off with a little swat, then continues with a grin. “I want you to take my car to college every day—BUT make sure it’s back here and parked on Sunday. I’ve got church to get to. Other than that… she’s yours to use.”

I blink at her. “You sure, Nan?”

She just nods, and gives me a toothy grin. That’s all I need. I wrap her in a warm embrace and mumble into her shoulder, “Thank you.” I can cry, but I don’t. Instead, I tuck the keys into my pocket and head for her old 2000 Buick, determined to make the most of this unexpected freedom.

Usually, the best thing about borrowing an older person’s car is the magical gift of a handicap pass. But I don’t want to draw attention to myself, so I opt to park as far away as possible.

Backpack in hand, I stare at the campus before me. My first semester means I can only afford three classes, which technically makes me part-time, but that doesn’t matter. I am ready to squeeze every drop of value out of my time here. Life hasn’t exactly been gentle lately. Just before Covid-19, my Mom left us for some mystery guy in Florida, and Dad couldn’t afford the house in Michigan alone. So here I am—Silverwater, Texas—the bane of my existence.

Not that I hate it exactly. I just spent every summer here as a kid helping Nan with her endless projects. At least now, those days are behind me… mostly. I still have nightmares about the year we finally convinced her to get rid of the creepy dolls. Their marble eyes had stared me down as we tossed them into a donation bin. Good riddance.

I pause at the main doors one last time, letting a few students exit first. I cast a few sideways glances, already feeling the familiar social anxiety creeping in. Yeah… first impressions matter. And based on these, I have a feeling I won’t be making friends anytime soon.