Peppermint Patty barrels through the door to her apartment, still in her muddy top and shorts, chuckling as she kicks her boots off. It had been a long day of footballing, and she’s ready for a nice and relaxing evening.
Sitting on the couch in their living room is Marcie, plinking away at her notes on her tablet. The more studious woman looks up towards the new arrival, quirking an eyebrow over her heavy glasses. “I hope you’re not tracking too much mud around here, sir.”
Patty shrugs, grasping the bottom of her shirt and lifting it up over her head. This gives Marcie a full view of Patty’s toned upper body and her favorite sports bra. It’s a sight Marcie has seen plenty of times living with her roommate and one that solicits a sigh when the shirt crumples to the floor in the entryway.
Patty stretches her arm, stopping when her eyes meet Marcie’s. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t thinkin’. Need to keep this place clean and all, right, Marce?” She picks up the shirt and folds it up, placing it neatly on the floor instead.
Marcie shakes her head, but responds, “It would be advisable, sir.”
“Well, I’m parched. Better get myself somethin’ to drink!” Patty stomps over the floor in her socks and opens the refrigerator, letting the cold air hit her skin. “Aah, that’s the stuff.”
Marcie flicks her finger over the screen. “It’s so cold today; how is that even comfortable?”
Patty stands up, lugging a six-pack of beer over her shoulder. “When you work that hard on the gridiron, you will know just how hot it’ll make ya. You really should try it sometime.”
“Maybe in the spring, I’ll join you for baseball. I’m not going to tackle people for sport, and I’d break far-too-easily. I’m surprised you’re still in one piece with the way you slam into people all day.”
“Maybe I’m not,” Patty says, plopping down on the couch, leaning towards the opposite end as her friend. She cracks the beer open, tilting her head over the back cushion.
Marcie sets her tablet away, frowning. “What do you mean, sir?”
Patty pulls her drink away, smacking her lips. She swirls the can pensively before holding the pack.
“Are you alright?” Marcie says, tentatively grabbing the drinks from her friend.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t feel bad, you know, but isn’t that what some of the psycho-whatsis say is bad?”
“Sometime, but you’ll need to be more specific.”
“Well, today’s a special occasion, you know?”
“Oh, right. You’re thinking about--”
“Chuck? Yeah, but only because I had these!” She says this, shaking the can. “Bought ‘em the day I saw that post of his online about being engaged to Peggy Jean.”
“That was months ago.”
“Alcohol ages, Marce.”
“Surely, not beer,” Marcy says, grabbing her tablet. With a few taps, she looks at it and adjusts her glasses. “Huh, well, you learn something new every day.”
“Strange, isn’t it? He looked just the same old Chuck, but he’s gone bald.”
“Sir, you’re practically unchanged from your childhood,” Marcie interjects, glancing over those abdominals. “Mentally speaking.”
“Says the gal who still calls me ‘sir,” Patty says this, leaning in with a little grin.
“I can stop if you’d like,” Marcie says, standing up from the couch.
“Oh, no, keep it up. It’s nostalgic for me and reminds me of when things were simple.”
“Maybe,” Marcie says, leaving the couch to go to the kitchen cabinet. There, she stands on her tiptoes, reaching up for something.
Patty places her beer down and follows her. “Need to grab something? Here, let me help.”
Patty stands beside Marcie, grabbing a large bottle that her friend’s fingers brushed. Marcie mutters a quick thanks and produces two glasses from the closet.
“This looks like some top-tier fancy stuff,” Patty says, rolling the bottle to check the label. “Must have cost ya.”
“It is for a special occasion,” Marcie says.
“Hey, you sure you want to drink it up now?” Patty asks. “I mean, this isn’t exactly a fancy deal. It’s just, you know… ah, I dunno.”
Marcie plucks the drink from Patty’s hands, shrugging. “The special occasion is today, and I got  it for the same reason as you.”
“Aaah, you were always a softie for good ole’ Chuck, weren’t ya?”
“You could say that.” Marcie uncorks the bottle, pouring some for both of them. “I guess I just felt a little strange, you know? That my childhood crush has a life of his own and will have his happily-ever-after, and I’m just….” She picks up her glass, swirling it.
“I think I get it,” Patty says, picking up her own. “You just don’t care, not like you thought you would. Like… his attention was what you’ve always dreamed of. Still, the moment you and him together finally stop being plausible, you realize that all you ever dreamed of as a kid was silly.”
“It’s not silly. Having crushes isn’t a problem, and neither is growing up out of them.”
Heh, I guess you’re right. I’m worried over nothing, and I don’t feel any regret. I love it here, where I am and what I’m doing.
“Sir, I think I can drink to that,” Marcie says.
They clink their glasses together, and the two sip the sweet vintage of adulthood.
“Damn, this classy stuff is much better than cracking a beer. You, uh, wanna save some of that, or?”
“It’s probably best we finish it off today, sir,” Marcie says.
Holding her glass out, Patty nods. “Yeah. We should probably get rid of the rest of that six-pack, too. Make this a day to forget, I guess.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a bit of carousing if it is with you, sir, if we drink a bit too much.”
“Then let’s have a wild good night. Pop in a movie and get sloshed!”