Catching Callie_A NEW ADULT & COLLEGE SUMMER SPORTS ROMANCE

by Claire Woods

  “Yeah, if you ever catch her.”

  “Shut up. Marcus. Come on, looks like you need another beer since you spewed yours all over the God damn place.”

  They clap me on the back as I adjust my hat low. We’re getting plenty of stares, people on the verge of figuring out who we are. They know we are somebody by our huge builds and wide shoulders. The three of us together are deadly panty droppers. In fact—that’s how the first few years of college went. But I’ve changed. These two buffoons might not have, but we’re still tight and would do anything for each other.

  “Check your phone.”

  Trey tells me as we shuffle back towards the bar. Opening it up, I read the new text message from him.

  It’s of us.

  Me and Fanny, arms locked, bodies fused as we’re lost staring into each other’s eyes on the outdoor dance floor. He captured the moment, and now I have a picture of the girl whose taste is on my tongue, the scent of her still in my nose, and her beautiful face permanently etched in my head. I have a feeling her name will soon be tattooed on my heart.

  Callie

  MY FACE HEATS EVERY TIME I remember how I acted last night. In the moment—it felt wild and free just to let myself go. But now my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I can’t believe I made out with him again.

  I can’t believe I ran.

  “Rise and shine!”

  “Gina?”

  “I let myself in and brought breakfast.”

  She dangles a bag with the Krispy Kreme logo on it in front of my sleepy face. They are my weakness. I have a raging sweet tooth which is another reason why I bike instead of drive everywhere.

  Following her down to the kitchen, I take a seat at the counter watching as she brews a pot of coffee.

  “I’m worried about you. I understand why my brother took Charlie up to UVA, but it’s not right to leave you here doing the job of two people.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  “Bullshit. How can you be?”

  Shrugging, I look down, tracing invisible lines on the counter with my finger.

  “Talk to me. I haven’t seen you cry since Wes called you piggy tales in the fourth grade and yanked your braids out.”

  “I kicked him in the balls. I remember that was my first and last trip to the principal’s office.”

  “I know this must be hard on you—”

  “It is. But helping where I can, here… makes me feel like I’m doing something. At least I’m working—keeping the café and marina operating so we can afford to give Mom the best care.”

  “That doesn’t leave you much time to date. Or go out with your friends.”

  “Dating’s overrated.”

  She leans back, cocking her hip out to the side. “I’m only fifteen years older than you. Spill. What’s going on Callie? You know you can talk to me.”

  Sighing, I meet her gaze. “Elliott. He—hurt me, badly.”

  “I know. Everyone usually gets badly burned by their first love. But you have to keep going—to find your real one.”

  “I know I was only eighteen. But the summer I spent with him was magic… at least at the time, I thought it was. It’s been hard, staying here, seeing—remembering every place we went and all the things we did together. He just up and disappeared on me. Left like a wisp of smoke without a call or text. No goodbye. What a way to break up with me. I—he took my virginity.”

  “I figured.”

  “It hurt. Didn’t feel good at all.”

  “I’m sorry. But when you have sex with a man that knows what he’s doing—you’ll never want to stop.” She turns as the coffee machine beeps, pouring two fresh, hot steaming cups.

  “I met someone new… but I’m scared to get hurt again.”

  “That’s understandable. But you need to get yourself out there. Have you even dated anyone in the last two years?”

  “Not really. I went out with a few guys here and there but nothing serious.”

  “Tell me about this new guy.”

  “He’s built. I mean he’s huge. I feel dainty standing next to him. He says the most ridiculously cheesy lines to me, but when he says them, I believe every word. And…. When he kisses me—I get lost in my own head. Like total brain freeze.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I don’t know. I keep running from him.”

  “Oh, Callie,” she shakes her head, “that’s only going to make him want you more. Men love a good chase.”

  “Oh? I was just scared of getting hurt. I’m not looking for a summer fling.”

  “Maybe one would be good for you.”

  “No. I can’t handle that. My heart always gets in the way.”

  “You do have a big one. That’s why everyone loves you. I need to open the bike shop. Don’t be a stranger okay? I’m always here if you get lonely or need to talk.”

  “Thanks. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” She gives me a quick hug then places her empty mug in the sink. I walk her out, pondering her words. But I’m a chicken. My heart’s already bruised and battered and wistful. Hoping my mother pulls through, it can’t handle a man who came out of nowhere demanding things from me I’m not ready to give.

  Gabe

  IT SHOULD’VE DIED DOWN, but it didn’t. Instead, the press is even more obsessed with me than Jackie.

  Disappearing has only led to more rumors.

  But no one in Sea Spray has discovered who I am… so far. Of course, using my last name as my first helps, especially if someone tries to look me up on the Internet.

  “Parker, what’s up?

  “Hey Banger, how’s it going?” I grin clasping his hand and taking a seat.

  “Good. I got promoted at WBFN.”

  “That’s great.”

  “And…,” he leans in closer, “If you are wondering why I spend my days hiding out at the campus library it’s because I’m the hottest DJ in town. Unfortunately for me though, the local girls know where I live.”

  “Yeah, I figured since everyone calls you, Banger. Did you grow up in Sea Spray?”

  He shrugs, sipping his coffee, “So what? Every girl dreams of a summer fling. I just give them six weeks’ worth in one night. And no, I’m from Georgia. I get free rent for spinning at the only real club in town.”

  “The Beachcomber?”

  He nods.

  “Well, I’m flying solo this summer. I’m focusing on getting myself back on track, so I won’t be going out bar hopping.”

  “Smart plan… Gabe.”

  “Fuck, you know who I am?”

  “Please. I might be into music, but I’m still a guy who grew up in the South and lived and breathed football for years.”

  “Shit.”

  “Hey, it’s cool. I just thought I’d tell you in case you need a friend in town.”

  “Thanks. There is this girl I met the first night I came here.”

  “Yeah,” he laughs, “there always is.”

  “No. But I like her. She was different, didn’t have a fucking clue who I was and …. she ran from me. Twice. I don’t know her story, but I want to write myself in it.”

  “Ouch. Maybe you have no game, as an ordinary guy.”

  “Bullshit. I have game. She wants me. There’ s just something in the way. I need to find out what it is and crush it.”

  “What’s this girl’s name?”

  I look down mumbling.

  “What? I didn’t catch what you said.”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter.

  He cracks up. “This is priceless. Gabe Parker has a crush on a girl who runs away from him, and he doesn’t even know who she is?”

  “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  He stares at me for a few seconds. “Ah, the age-old thrill of the chase and all that. I get it. Listen…, I have an idea…”

  “Fuck, okay. I’m listening.”

  “Come on my morning show. Not as you… but as Parker Wells. The bullshit name you’re going by. Talk to her. Live
on the air. The town will eat this shit up and just maybe… she’ll come to you.”

  “What if she doesn’t hear?”

  “She will,” he sits back all confident and smug, “every shop in town listens to my show. Hell, it’s streamed live at the lifeguard stations on the beach. If she doesn’t hear it, someone that knows her will. If there’s one thing I know about women—they talk to their girlfriends.”

  “Okay, what the hell. I’m in. But only if you keep helping me study for my exam retake.”

  “Of course, I will. It’s so much bullshit what you’re going through.”

  “Thanks. Who knew the resident DJ was such as badass at Calculus?”

  “I’m a doing a double major in case the music thing doesn’t work out. I’ll be able to fall back on my math degree. You’re already good at it. I’ll just help you be a bit better. You’ll ace that test and be back on the field for senior year. Just don’t forget me when you go pro.”

  “Hell, no. I’ll send you VIP tickets for helping me. Hell, if you find my girl, I’ll get you into the Super Bowl.”

  “Damn. She must be something.”

  “She… she could be everything.”

  “What? You only met her once.”

  “Twice. And sometimes that’s all it takes. She went toe-to-toe with me, kissed like a sea siren and smelled like coffee and chocolate.”

  “Damn. Maybe I’ll find her first.”

  “The fuck you will.”

  “What does she look like anyway?”

  “Like a fucking angel. Mid-length dark hair that curls at the tips, light eyes that shoot daggers or fire depending on what’s running through her head, toned legs and breasts…,” I pause, fidgeting in my seat, getting hard just remembering how she felt and tasted beneath me.

  “Okay… I get the picture,” he laughs.

  “Good, because I won’t be able to concentrate with a woody.”

  “Fuck. Let’s get to work then.”

  For the next three hours, Banger teaches me shortcuts. He has the mind of a genius. I’m looking at numbers and equations from a completely different angle. I’m more than ready to face the firing squad.

  “You’re ready.”

  “I think I am, too.”

  “Good. Go take care of this shit and then we’ll find your girl.”

  “Thanks, man,” I give him a fist bump, heading out to my car.

  It’s fucking sweltering out. If it weren’t for the breeze coming off the bay, I’d think I was in the tropics.

  My lips twitch imagining the look on Fanny’s face when she hears me coming through the radio.

  I hope her heart skips a beat like mine did when I realized it was her I had tackled down in the sand.

  Taking out my phone, I scroll finding Coach’s number.

  “Parker?”

  “Yeah. I’m ready.”

  “Good. I’ll set it up and give you a date and time.”

  “Great. I’m digging Sea Spray. It’s amazing.”

  “Yeah, I know. Are you taking good care of Gran’s house?”

  “Of course. I even water and weed the plants.”

  “She would’ve liked you son. You have integrity and a solid work ethic.”

  “Thanks. How long ago did she pass?”

  “Ten years. But I didn’t have it in me to change a damn thing in her house.”

  “Why would you? It’s perfect. It feels like home. More of a home than I’ve had in years.”

  “Good. I expect your head and heart to be right for August. I need you to kick everyone’s ass that got lazy over the summer in pre-season.”

  “You can count on that.”

  “Good,” he grunts hanging up.

  Walking through the small campus to the security building, I pause shaking my head and enter.

  “Can I help you?” An older man built like a Mac Truck asks not even looking up from his desk.

  “I’m here to pick up my uniform. I’m—”

  “Gabe Parker. Holy fuck.”

  “Yeah, but this summer I’m just Parker. Parker Wells.”

  His mouth’s still hanging open.

  Great.

  Sometimes the guy fans are worse than the girls. They want to talk plays, give me advice like they know the game better than I do.

  “Well, hell. We’re going to need to order you a special size. I don’t have any uniforms that will fit. They never told me the star wide receiver was my new employee.”

  “Well, there was a reason for that.”

  “Shit son, the whole damn country is looking for your ass,” he slaps his knee, “and here you are in my office.”

  “Yeah, imagine that.”

  “Sit. I have some paperwork for you to fill out. You want your pay direct deposited?”

  “That’d be great. I’m still a broke college player.”

  “For now. I hear New England is looking at you. Heck—you could end up on the Patriots bench.”

  “Hell no. I’ll be on their field.”

  “First string, huh? You got balls.”

  “Of steel. I’m not busting my ass to be second best.”

  “Yeah. I see that. Can you start next week? The shift is six to midnight.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Feeling cocky like all the stars are about to align, I leave his office and head over to the small field house. It has a pool, a weight room, and a part-time trainer.

  It’s all I need to complete the Gabe Parker summer plan to conquer my world.

  GABE

  DRESSED IN THE LIGHT GREY SUMMER SUIT, I wore to my cousin’s wedding last year—I’m ready to face them.

  I asked to be given another exam: live. I’d take it in front of the board. They would score it then and there, seeing for themselves I didn’t cheat. I know the information cold, and the professor wrote a new exam just for me. The president has it locked in his office, and I’m two hours away.

  It’s genius.

  It came to me on my now nightly swim. It’s become ritual and eases my sore muscles at the end of each day.

  Truthfully, I look for her every night, hoping she’d show up again like a lucky star. Sea Spray is larger than it seems. The shops and restaurants on the main street are only a dozen at best, but the miles of sandy beach, inlets, coves, and hiking trails make this kind of a paradise.

  I can feel the muscles in my legs have already gotten stronger from training on the beach and then hiking up every bluff. I feel like Rocky Balboa in his first movie—fighting some unseen foe, throwing jabs and right hooks, and training for the fight of his life.

  In a way—I am. If I get expelled—there goes the NFL, my degree, and everything I’ve worked for years to achieve would instantly vanish. My mornings are full of conditioning, the afternoons spent in class, and at night I get to put on my rent a cop uniform going out on patrol.

  It’s better than I thought it would be. Who knew I’d be good at it? I’ve already become the rookie to hand out the most parking tickets and even saved a sea turtle who got lost.

  I’m goddamn Rocky and Clark Kent. I’ve got mad superpowers, and nothing can stop me now.

  Synching my phone to the car’s radio, I get my jam on.

  “Here I go again on my own….” Belting out Whitesnake like it’s my track, I don’t give a shit as I stop traffic in my designer suit, older car, and sick voice.

  Fanny knows I’m good.

  I just need to find her.

  In fact, that’s the next thing on my to-do list after I straighten out everything at UVA.

  Hell, maybe I should give a music career a shot if football doesn’t pan out.

  ***

  “They’re ready for you.”

  “Thank you.” My long legs uncross, my hand instinctively straightening my navy-blue silk tie as I follow the secretary down the hall to a large conference room.

  Twelve heads swivel in my direction. My feet slow and I look each person in the eye. “I want to personally thank every one of you fo
r this opportunity to prove myself. I value this University very much. I would never want to tarnish its good name. On these grounds games were won and lost but this is not a game. My name is at stake and the future I’ve worked so hard for. Thank you for giving me a chance to save it.”

  Coach catches my eye and nods his head.

  I sit at the only empty seat, and the chancellor unlocks his briefcase sliding the exam across the polished wood table.

  The President sets a timer.

  It’s game on.

  My forehead creased in concentration as my pencil makes notations and my fingers tap the calculator.

  It’s hard.

  They made this exam yards harder than the previous two. But that’s fine. My head is clear and my heart light.

  It’s easy to have a clear conscience when you’re innocent. Lips twitching at the next equation, I make a mental note to buy Banger a few rounds. This was a set-up. Someone in this room wanted me to fail, and I would have if not for the luck of meeting one of the smartest math majors on campus.

  Standing up, I shrug out of my suit jacket, unbutton my pressed shirt and roll up my sleeves. A small gasp has my eyes snapping to the corner where the Chancellor’s student PA sits fidgeting with her skirt.

  I wink.

  “Dirty Player,” she mouths biting her lip.

  Sitting back down with a grin, I ace this shit, in a rush to get back to Sea Spray and find Fanny. I want to kiss her under the stars, wrap her in my blanket and wakeup cuddled next to her while the surf pounds nearby.

  I finish with five minutes to spare even after I double checked my work. Silently, my hands slide the exam back to the other side of the table.

  It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Professor Higley and President Yates both grade it in a murmur of low whispers. Finally, shaking her head in disbelief, her eyes meet mine.

  “Congratulations Parker. You scored a 96.”

  “What? Where did I go wrong?”

  Eagerly I ask for the paper back. Professor Higley cracks a wry smile, refusing to hand it over. “Sorry. This exam must remain a part of our larger investigation. I can tell you after this—you are in the clear for now. But we might call you to testify in front of the committee as part of the overall investigation into our student-athletes,” President Yates informs me.