by Brit Benson
One guy shoulder checks Kelley, and my hackles rise, but Kelley brushes it off. I watch as the two exchange a few words. The guy Kelley is talking to looks kind of familiar, but I can’t quite place him. I squint to see him better, and then the guy gives Kelley a shove.
What the heck?
They’re obviously arguing about something. The game, maybe? Curse the distance. They’re too far away for me to eavesdrop. I should really learn to read lips.
The third time the guy rams his shoulder into Kelley, I’m livid. Then I realize why he looks so familiar.
“Bails. That’s him. The guy from the other night. Brock.”
“Brock?” She questions, but quickly her eyes widen, and she sits up straighter, squinting back at the field. “Wait. The BDD?”
I nod and she snarls in his direction.
“Wait, what? Who? What’s a BDD?” Jesse jumps in.
“Big dick dumbass.”
“Ha! That’s a good one,” Jesse barks. “Why do we hate him?” he asks, still laughing.
“He tried to tell Ivy he didn’t have a condom like two weekends ago. Tried to talk her into boning bare.”
“Oh no he didn’t.” Jesse’s smile drops, and he turns a glare toward Brock.
“And he told me I had a fat a-s-s,” I whisper.
“What?” Jesse jumps. “What, like, as an insult? He said you had a fat ass as an insult?”
Bailey nods, and we reply at the same time.
“Mmhmm.”
“Yeppers.”
“I’ll kill him.” Jesse stands quickly, but Bailey cuts him off.
“Looks like Kelley is handling it.”
On the field, Brock and Kelley are in each other’s faces, and though I can’t hear what’s being said, I can tell from the tense set of his shoulders that Kelley is furious. When Brock gives Kelley yet another forceful shove, I’m off the bleachers and marching toward the middle of the field.
“Oh, shit!” Jesse claps his hands once and scrambles up behind me. “You sure fucked up now, man!”
“Shut up, J,” I hear Bailey say to him. He then starts humming Eye of the Tiger but promptly stops with an ooof. I’m betting Bailey elbowed him in the stomach. If I wasn’t prepping a speech in my head, I’d laugh.
I stomp up to where the guys are facing off, plant my feet, and cross my arms.
“Brock. I see you’ve met my friend, Kelley. Kelley, this is Brock.”
Brock turns his snarling face toward me, and a smarmy grin takes it over. The look turns my stomach and I resist the urge to snarl back.
“Hey, Ivy. How you been, baby?” He licks his lips, and it’s gross, but I maintain my poker face. I can practically feel Kelley’s anger emanating off of him, and I send a silent plea to whatever gods and goddesses are watching that he lets me handle this myself.
“I’m good, Brock. I’d ask you the same, but I don’t particularly care.” Jesse and Bailey stifle laughter behind me.
“Don’t be like that, babe. I know you regret the other night.” He takes a step toward me, but I hold my ground. I won’t be intimidated. I’m a fierce mountain lion of greatness, and he is an idiot man-child of sexually transmitted infections. “I would have showed you a real nice time.”
“No thank you, Brock. I like not having chlamydia.” I raise my voice and hear laughter coming from the teams. I almost forgot we had an audience on the field, and this makes Brock visibly angry.
“Whatever. I was slumming with you.”
I plant my hands on my hips and raise an eyebrow.
“Please,” I scoff. “Literally no one cares what you have to say, Brock. You’re full of crap and your ego is bruised so you’re lashing out. I know an insecure boy when I see one.”
He’s spitting mad, now.
“I wouldn’t touch your fat ass if you begged me.”
“I’m grateful for that. If you have sex the way you play soccer it would be a total waste of my time.”
“Oh yes she said it.” Jesse laughs out loud behind me. “You best walk off before she makes you cry.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Brock shouts at Jesse, which just makes Jesse laugh harder.
“Just go home, Brock, before you make a bigger fool of yourself,” I tell him with a sigh. “Nobody likes a sore loser.”
Kelley steps next to me then and throws his arm over my shoulder.
“Bye, Brock,” Kelley says with a death glare.
“This isn’t over,” Brock points his finger in Kelley’s face.
“Yes, it most definitely is,” I shake my head. “And make an appointment with campus health. Wouldn’t want your diseased dick to fall off.”
I turn and walk away with Kelley’s arm still slung over my shoulder and Jesse and Bailey trailing behind, still laughing.
“Ivy Jean Rivenbark,” Kelley says with a grin, “did I just hear you say dick?”
“Hush.” Kelley barks out a laugh and tightens his arm around me.
I press myself into Kelley’s side and pretend to ignore the heat coming from his bare skin. The way he smells of sweat, grass, and the nighttime air of early fall is a combination that I love, and I shiver. I flick my eyes to where the group of girls from earlier was standing and see that two of them are watching us leave, eyes fixed on Kelley, so I slide my arm around his waist, hook my thumb in the band of his shorts, and send the girls a small smile.
I know that I don’t have a claim on Kelley. I cannot, because that would suggest we are more than just friends, and we aren’t. We can’t be. But, well, that doesn’t mean I can’t seek comfort in our platonic affections while we’re both single. That’s all I’m doing. Friendly hugs and smiles. If those girls see it and get the wrong idea...well, that’s not my fault...
“Hey, V,” Jesse’s voice is suddenly serious, “I’m sorry I didn’t vet that douche better.”
“It’s not your fault, J.”
“Yeah,” Bailey adds. “Guys like him treat other guys differently than they treat women.”
“Yeah, but still. Next time I’m saying condoms and respect, or I’ll break his dick.”
10
“Alright, Matthew. Show me what you have today,” I say with extra gusto at lunch on Thursday. Something has been wrong with Matthew. I can tell because he didn’t raise his hand even once in class today, and it was my lesson, so I was expecting extreme excitement from him. He’s been withdrawn this week, so I’ve been doing what I can to perk him up at lunch.
“Um, I forgot my lunch today. But I grabbed a granola bar from the cabinet before I left.” Matthew won’t make eye contact with me. He remembered to grab a granola bar but not his lunch bag? I’m not buying it, but I’m glad that I made it a point to pack some things that will boost his spirits.
“That’s okay,” I say with a nod and a conspiratorial grin. “It’s actually probably better this way because look what I brought.”
I pull out a foot-long gourmet sub from Jerry’s, the sub shop off campus, two bags of chips, a container of grapes, two bottles of juice from the vending machine, and of course, the container of Bailey’s cookies that Ivy packed. Matthew’s eyes grow wide, and he starts to smile, but then the grin drops.
“I don’t really have anything to trade, though.”
“Pffft, that’s fine,” I say with a shrug as I start to divvy up the food. “Consider it a thank you for always coming to keep me company at lunch. And if you want to repay me, you can just make sure to ask a few questions next time I teach. I know you had some in your brain today.”
“I did,” Matthew says before taking a giant bite of his sub. “I just didn’t feel like talking.”
“It’s cool. Sometimes I don’t feel like talking in large groups either. But you know you can always talk to me if something is bothering you, right?”
Matthew pauses and looks at me while he chews, and suddenly I’m hit with the memory of Jacob the first day I met him, with his assessing blinks, vulnerability, and silent strength. Just like that first day with Jacob,
I hope Matthew knows that my words are genuine.
“I mean it, Matthew. You can talk to me about anything. And if there’s a problem that I can’t help you with, we will find someone who can.”
Matthew nods and gives me a small smile.
“I know, Mr. Pierce. Thank you. For the lunches and for everything.”
“Good. Now how about you ask me those questions you didn’t want to ask in class today. The Progressive Era was a pretty big moment in American History.”
Matthew and I finish the lunch hour discussing my lesson, and soon enough he’s smiling and laughing like his usual self. I only hope he’s still smiling next time I see him.
The day goes by quickly, and I manage not to think too much about the comments that douche Brock made at the soccer scrimmage for most of it, but I wasn’t so lucky on the drive back to campus.
“So how was soccer last night?” Cassie asks, and I can’t help the grimace that takes over my face. “Oh no. Did you lose? I was gonna come cheer you on, but I needed to work on my Ed Psych project.”
“Nah, we didn’t lose. We kicked ass.”
“So then what’s up?” She turns in her seat and I can feel her eyes on my profile. I don’t like it.
“Nothing big,” I shrug. “Just some dick on the other team trying to get under my skin. Didn’t work.”
“Who was it?”
“Some frat prick named Brock.”
“Brock Mohler,” Cassie says, and she’s not surprised. I turn my head and look at her.
“You know him?”
“Yep. He’s in a business frat with my roommate’s boyfriend.” She hesitates, and I can tell she wants to say more.
“What?” I urge, and she takes a breath.
“Was it about Ivy?” she asks quietly. “That how he tried to get to you?”
“Yeah.” I shake my head, disgusted with the memory of the way he talked about my best friend. “How’d you know?”
She shrugs and looks away. “Just a guess.”
“Right.” My answer is clipped, and I’m more irritated than I probably should be at her assumption. At her correct assumption.
My skin crawls at the thought of that fucking asshat Brock putting his hands on Ivy. The way he talked about her body yesterday makes me sick. Not just because of how he disrespected her, but because I’m also fucking jealous, and I hate it. I try to ignore the way my stomach roils, but I can’t, and all I want to do is drop Cassie off and go for my run.
When I pull up in front of her apartment complex, I’m ready to mumble a goodbye and speed home for my training session, but Cassie reaches over and puts her hand on my forearm.
“You’re tense. You’re angry. I get it. I would be, too.” I’m not quite sure what she thinks she gets, but she sounds sincere, so I meet her eyes and listen. “I really think you should come out with us tomorrow. Before you say no—”
“Okay.”
“Really?” Cassie’s eyes are wide with surprise, and a shocked smile is on her face. “You’ll come out with me?”
“Yeah,” I nod, and her smile makes me smile. My abrupt acquiescence startled her, and me too, to be honest. But I need to stomp out these fucking feelings—feelings for Ivy—that are coursing through me, and a night out sounds pretty fucking good right now.
“Okay! Okay, cool. Tomorrow. I’ll text you.”
“No frat parties, though.”
“That’s fine. We’ll bar hop. It’s gonna be great.” Then she squeals a little and leans over to hug me goodbye, which catches me off guard. “Thanks for the ride, Kell. See you tomorrow!”
I feel both lighter and more weighed down on the drive back to my condo, but I don’t bother trying to dissect it. Instead, I run through tonight’s training session in my head. I’ve got seven weeks until the marathon, and that’s where I am going to focus my energy. Then tomorrow, I am going to go out, have fun, and blow off some steam like a normal fucking college student.
A few hours later, I’m sweaty as hell but I feel refreshed in a way that only a good, challenging run can do. I fucking rocked my training session, and I’m even excited about going out with Cassie and her friends tomorrow. Might even find someone to take home. I’m not ruling anything out at this point. Not Cassie, though. I meant what I said about her being too close, too connected to my day-to-day life. Definitely not ready for that kind of shit yet.
I go to open the door to my condo and find that it’s already unlocked.
“Jesse,” I call, kicking my shoes off on the New Apartment, Who Dis doormat Ivy bought us. “What happened with st—"
“It’s me!” A voice coming from my bedroom cuts me off, and I can’t stop the smile that takes over my face. I tell myself to shut it down, to smother the warmth that bum-rushes my chest and sets my heart racing, but I just fucking can’t.
I’m a goddamned masochist.
Ivy skips into the kitchen, looking like my fantasy in fucking jeans and a t-shirt, and maybe it’s because I’m physically exhausted from my run, or because I’m emotionally wrecked from yesterday’s encounter with Brock the Beefy Buttface, but I let myself look.
“They let us out of lecture early, so I thought I’d bring dinner for my two favorite men.” A smile takes over her face, her dimple popped and adorable, and she slides a large brown paper bag in front of me. As usual, she’s completely oblivious to my inner turmoil.
“Two favorite men? What about Jacob?” I tease and peer into the bag.
“Hush.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s not a man yet, so he doesn’t count. And anyway, he’s my favorite human. That’s different.”
“Of course. So, what did you bring me?”
“China Wok. Your fave. Beef and broccoli and some dumplings,” she says as she sets containers and chopsticks in front of me.
It smells fucking phenomenal, and if I gave in to my impulses, I would totally kiss her right now. But I don’t give into my impulses, ever, and the punch to my gut it creates is exactly why I need to go out with Cassie tomorrow night. So instead, I smile and take the chopsticks from her hand, making sure that our fingers brush just enough to create the zing of barely-there energy that I crave like an addict. Because I am still a fucking man in love with his best friend.
“I got J that fried rice he likes,” she continues unbothered. “Where is he? I thought he had an early bio-chem lab on Thursdays.”
“Yeah, he does. But he’s got a study group tonight,” I answer.
“Dang. Oh well, more for me,” Ivy chirps, and she picks up her food and carries it into the living room.
The condo I share with Jesse is nice. Much nicer than most undergrads can afford. It’s in a private building and the majority of the residents are older, established townies or PhD students. Between my parents and Jesse’s parents, the monthly payment is chump change.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Ivy asks. She’s perched herself on the black leather sofa, the tie-dye throw blanket she keeps here is spread over her lap, and she’s moved Jesse’s yarn basket to the floor, so she could set food up on the coffee table in front of her.
Once again, I’m struck with just how perfect she looks in my personal space, how perfectly she fits in my life. And, once again, I squash those thoughts as fast as fucking possible and remind myself that she is my friend. Only my friend.
“Definitely. Just let me shower, first.” I set my food down on the table next to hers and turn toward the bathroom. “I just ran fifteen and a half miles.”
“Ick.” She shudders, and I laugh at her.
“Cue it up. Romantic comedy? Action? Period drama?”
“Hmmm. I vote horror,” she says impishly, and I groan.
“Of course you do,” I say, and she wiggles happily on her cushion. “You’re only doing this because you like to see me squirm.”
“That’s not true! I love blood and guts and ghosts and such.”
“Fine.” I give in with a sigh and hand her the remote so she can pick a film, then head to the bathroo
m for my shower. “I’ll be right out.”
One hour into the movie, and I know it’s going to happen.
I can feel it. I’m on the edge of my fucking seat, heart racing as I watch the dumbass on the TV walking down a dark hallway lined with closed doors. He’s escaped death twice now; there’s no way he’ll do it a third time.
As the guy reaches for a doorknob, I dig my fingertips into my thighs. This is it. This is definitely the room where the knife wielding psychopath is hiding. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my ribcage.
Fuck, I fucking hate horror films.
When the guy flings open the door, I jump, but there’s nothing inside, and I heave a sigh of relief right along with the dumb fuck on the screen.
I glance over at Ivy. She’s got her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms hugging them to her body, and the blanket draped around her shoulders. Her eyes are wide, and her breath is heavy as she stares at the screen. She gasps as the guy in the movie opens another door, and I whip my eyes back to the television.
This is it.
This one has to be the one.
Third door. Third time’s a charm.
Dude is fucking toast.
The movie music gets louder, more ominous, and I suck in a breath. He turns the knob and—
“Fuck!” I shriek, jumping off the couch and running to the edge of the living room while Ivy’s hysterical laughter fills my ears. “What the fuck, Ives!”
My side burns from where she poked me, and she’s hunched over laughing, tears welling in her eyes. Even though I was just about ready to run for my fucking life, I have to hold back a smile.
“That’s not fucking funny, Ivy,” I say between gasps. “You know I get jumpy during these fucking movies.”
“I know,” she pushes out, “I know. I’m sorry. I was just going to have you pass me my beer. Oh my gosh, Kelley! You should have seen your face!”
She’s laughing harder now, but she attempts to twist her features into a terrified expression and lets out a high-pitched squealing noise.
“I don’t fucking sound like that,” I protest, still trying to catch my breath.