I clench my teeth, as sweat beads on my forehead, attempting to focus. The professor is rambling on about something, and from where I’m sitting in the back of the room, I can barely make out what he’s writing on the board.
Being buzzed in class is…different. I burst out laughing at the most inappropriate times, hum songs that are playing full volume in my head while swaying in my chair, and I’m struggling to keep my butt in my seat. Other times, I’m paranoid people can tell I’m high, and I slink in my chair, tucking my chin into my chest, slyly checking the room to see if anyone’s watching me.
The chick next to me says, “Shh, I’m trying to listen.”
I smile sweetly at her. “Oops, sorry.” My voice is loud, my giggle obvious, causing the professor to stop talking.
All heads turn my way.
I couldn’t give a shit what they think. I’m in my happy place, and nothing or no one can touch me. My mind floats, higher and higher, and I slink lower and lower in my seat, grinning widely as liquid bliss replaces the blood flowing through my veins.
The professor clears his throat. “Ms. Parker, you’re disrupting this class. It’s time for you to leave.”
I waste no time in gathering my things, but when I do, I sway on my feet. The chick next to me offers to help, but I swat her hand away.
Luckily, I’m close to the door, and I manage to walk out without tripping.
I’m sure my not-so-student-like behavior will get back to Mom. But, right now, I don’t care.
I’ve no clue how I make it to the diner, but I’m humming to myself, slurping through my third soda at a table in the back, when Zach and Scar arrive.
“Are you high right now?” Scar whispers, giving me the once-over as she scoots into the booth alongside me.
“As a fucking kite,” I joke.
She frowns. “That’s pretty fucking reckless, Em.”
“I’m in a pretty fucking reckless mood, Scar.”
“Did something happen?” Zach asks.
“Nothing happened. That’s the issue.” I giggle, swiping my hand across my clammy brow. My eyes dart wildly around the diner, and I chase the dust particles floating through the air with my gaze. “They’re like the brightest stars,” I mutter.
“What are?” Zach asks.
“Dust stars. That’s what I’m going to call them.” I reach up, swiping at the air, curling my fingers around a handful. “I wonder what they taste like,” I say before slapping my palm against my mouth.
“Fuck, are we usually like this?” I hear Zach question Scar.
“You’re usually running around naked, slapping chicks with your big cock,” Scar tells him, and they laugh.
“Fuck. We can’t let her go back to class like that.”
“She has no choice. Bitchface checks her attendance reports. Hopefully, she’ll have come down by the time classes resume.” Scar stares at me, and I grin back at her. “Babe.” She grips my chin. “How long ago did you take it?”
I shrug. “It was before my first class.” A goofy smile spreads across my mouth. “I love you, chica. You know that, right?” Scar’s lips tug up at the corners. “And I love you too, Zach.”
“Love you too, babe,” he says with a knowing grin.
Briefly, I consider asking him to come to the bathroom and fuck my brains out, but it’s not Zach I want to fuck.
Adam’s handsome face appears in my mind’s eye, and I squirm as a host of fantasies involving him, me, a bed, and zero clothing lay siege to my body. A wave of euphoria ghosts over me, and I lean back against the booth, closing my eyes and murmuring contentedly.
The rest of lunch passes in a blur. I don’t even remember if I ate anything. Scar has a firm grip on my elbow as she guides me back to campus. I’m starting to come down from my buzz, and I shiver as cold chills tiptoe up my spine.
“You got any more Molly?” I ask, squinting, as we round the next corner. The sun or light is too fucking bright, and my head wants to explode.
“Shush.” She glances anxiously around her. “You’ve got to keep your voice down. And I’ve got nothing with me here.”
The farther we walk toward campus, the more reality sinks in. “Fuck.” I bury my head in my hands, feeling hot one second and cold the next. A line of sweat glides down my back, sticking my top to my spine. “I feel like shit.”
“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to break your own rules,” Scar says.
“You don’t say!” I snap, rubbing my temples. “I need another high, not a lecture, Scar.”
Scar growls under her breath. “If you’re going to be a grumpy bitch, you’re on your own from here.”
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter anyway.”
“You know where you’re going?”
I glare at her. “Do I look like a fucking imbecile?” I throw my hands in the air. “Of course, I know where I’m going,” I lie, because I’m experiencing sudden brain freeze, and I can’t recall what class I have next.
“You’re lucky I love you and I understand.” She kisses me on the cheek, holding my shoulders and turning me around. “Go that way and call me later.”
“Scar!” I holler, turning around a couple beats later. “I’m sorry!” Butterflies flutter in my chest, comingling with the tight slicing pain cutting across me.
“I know, babe.” She blows me a kiss. “Hurry to class before you’re late!” I watch her disappear before pivoting on my heel, slamming face-first into a solid obstacle blocking my path.
“Look who it is, boys.” His voice radiates with smug superiority, and bile shoots up hot and fast to settle in my throat.
I don’t want to look, but I have no choice. I’m plastered to his body, and as he grasps my upper arms, digging his fingers into my sensitive skin, I lift my chin.
Wes’s malevolent gaze meets mine.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I bark, shoving his chest.
He squeezes me even tighter. “You never learn, do you, bitch?”
A few chuckles ring out behind him, and he glances over his shoulder, still keeping a firm hold on me. “Come say hi to our Saturday night entertainment.”
Four guys step forward, eyeing me like I’m their next meal.
I have a horrific feeling I might be.
The short, stocky guy with black eyes to match his black hair checks me out from head to toe. “Sweet body,” he admits with a crooked grin.
“Nice ass,” another guy says from behind. He must have moved around while I was watching the stocky dude. I shriek as two hands grab hold of my ass, squeezing.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I attempt to wriggle out of Wes’s hold, but the guy at my rear presses into me, shoving me right into Wes’s chest.
A hand brushes the sides of my breasts, and I scream, but the sound is muffled as someone shoves my head in tighter to Wes’s upper body
“Enough.” Wes releases me, suddenly, wrapping his arms around me as if he’s hugging me. “Don’t say a word unless you want me to cut your tits off and feed them to my wolfhound.
“Sup,” he says, as a crowd of guys and girls pass by us. He runs his hand up and down my back in an affectionate gesture, as his friends send surreptitious warning looks my way. A couple of girls narrow their eyes at me while the guys just look amused.
“Fuck,” Wes says, when they’re out of earshot. “If they mention this to Cassandra, she’ll string me up by my balls.”
I’m sure Blondie is well aware of his rep and she turns a blind eye because she wants his ring on her finger and his last name on her passport. She made it clear the way she fawned all over him and his parents at the hotel.
“If she hasn’t found out about all the other sluts, I think you’re safe,” a tall guy with massive biceps says, reaching out and fondling my boob.
“Hands off,” Wes snaps. “It’s too risky out here.” He cups my face, forcing my gaze to his. “But Saturday night, she’s all ours, and you can do what the fuck you want to her.”
“
In your dreams, asshole,” I say, hating how my voice quakes.
They all laugh, and someone pinches my ass. Tears prick my eyes, and I push at Wes’s chest. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”
He grips my face even further, and my lips scrunch up. “Your mom is tripping over herself to make up for the fundraiser. What a naughty little bitch you are, Emily.” He tut-tuts, shaking his head. “She thinks you’re coming over to help me study, Saturday night.”
Another round of chuckles breaks out.
“She’s helping us study, all right,” a lanky guy with dirty-blond hair says.
“Study our cocks,” another idiot says.
“And we’ll be studying every fucking inch of your body,” Wes says, his eyes glinting with dark promise. “And filling every fucking hole,” he adds, grabbing me against him as he thrusts his cock into my stomach.
My stomach lurches violently, and I struggle against his hold.
He pushes me away, and I lose my balance, dropping to my butt on the ground.
The five guys loom over me like a menacing thunderstorm. “See you Saturday, slut.” He spits on the ground by my side. “Don’t bother wearing underwear.” His evil eyes bore into my skull. “You won’t be wearing it long enough to matter.”
9
Adam
The last few weeks have been balls to the wall with practice, games, studying, and working to the early morning hours. The drug business is booming, and Ray has been singing my praises, telling me how his clients don’t want to buy from anyone but me. I should be happy that I’m his best dealer, but selling drugs isn’t something I’m proud of.
It’s also sucking the life out of me. I can barely keep my eyes open in class, and running my ass through drills and workouts hasn’t been easy.
I’m gearing up to throw the football when Coach blows his whistle. “That’s it for today. Five laps around the track before you hit the showers. Miller, a word.”
Everyone scatters—some of the team pounding out their laps and others grabbing water before they do.
I remove my helmet as I trot up to Coach who’s standing on the sideline, reading something on his phone.
For a second, my stomach forms a knot. I can’t tell if Coach is mad or he just wants to talk strategy. He’s been pleased with my performance although he’s been quite moody for the last couple of weeks, which makes me scratch my head.
The fact I’m selling drugs to his daughter is something that weighs on me anytime he calls my name. I’m fucking terrified he’s going to find out, and it keeps me awake some nights. I’m risking a lot. But I can’t stop. Not as long as Mom and Phoebe need the money.
Speaking of Emily, I haven’t spotted her at any of the frat parties. I attended one last weekend solely in the hopes of seeing her. Zach seems to be deliberately keeping her away from me. Showing up alone when he needs to replenish supplies. And I swear he’s doing it to keep us apart.
Coach lowers his phone and squints at me. Practice was good, so I’ve no clue what he wants. But the way he’s staring at me leads me to believe he knows, and that knot I have gets tighter.
I’m not one to blurt out shit. So, I wait.
All the guys are jogging, and our assistant coaches are packing up.
Coach shoves a hand through his reddish-brown hair. “How’s Phoebe?”
I flinch only because I’m expecting something quite different. “Her pneumonia is gone, and she’s doing better.” I’ve made enough money recently to pay for the repairs to Phoebe’s vest.
“Good,” he says, shooting a brief glance at Coach Price who keeps looking over at us, for some reason. They stare at one another, and Carter runs by, his blue eyes wide. I lift a shoulder. I’ve no idea what’s going on. The tension between Coach Parker and Coach Price seems thick. They’ve been arguing about plays for the last week.
“Is there something else?” I ask Coach Parker. “I need to get my run in.” I have a full night ahead with an English paper to write and then several clients to see.
Mom still hasn’t found a job, and as much as she wants to, I want her to stay home. She needs to take care of Phoebe. But she doesn’t want me to ruin my future. I can’t say I blame her. I worry constantly that I’ll get caught or, worse, Ray will discover I charge a little over the asking price for a bag of Molly. It’s not much, and I don’t do it all the time, but it's risky. The guy will sever my head if he finds out. While I like my head, I can’t give two fucks about Ray. My family comes first.
Coach Parker breaks his weird face-off with Coach Price, giving me his sole focus. The lines around his eyes deepen. “I got a call from an NFL scout about you.”
My jaw comes unhinged. “What?” I splutter, attempting to shake the shock from my brain.
Coach grins, clamping a hand on my shoulder. “You’re good, son. Don’t shortchange yourself.”
It’s not that I don’t think I’m good. It’s just I wasn’t expecting to hear from any scout so soon in my college career. While I’m fucking stoked as shit, my gut is telling me the timing isn’t good.
Fuck timing.
Coach folds his arms over his chest. “I sent the scout some tapes of the last couple of games.”
“What team?” My brain is clearing of the shock, and I’m eager to know if it’s the Carolina Panthers. If I could play for them, Phoebe and Mom could attend games since the stadium is one state over. I can also stay close to home in the event my family needs me.
“The Chicago Bears,” he confirms, as his phone rings. “I’ll let you know more when I do. For now, he’s just inquiring. I have to take this call.” He struts away, leaving me pumping my fist in the air. It’s not the Panthers, but so the fuck what.
It’s the NFL.
Coach Price follows on Coach Parker’s heels as they cross the field toward the sports complex.
I start into a slow jog. The Bears are interested in me! I can’t wait to tell Mom. But the moment I think how happy she’ll be, I decide it’s not a good idea to say a word. She’ll tell me to stop selling drugs.
Fuck. Drugs.
I pick up my pace, running like I’m sprinting in an Olympic fifty-yard dash. The team has left the track, and I don’t even see Carter. I forgo the rest of the run, getting in only a lap. I’ve got too much to do, and I can at least share the good news with my teammates.
I head into the locker room amid laughter and chatter. The guys are buzzed from the great practice. We’re all still flying high with our record this season, and the feeling is better than any buzz I get from alcohol.
I shrug out of my T-shirt when Carter lifts his head from untying his cleats. “What’s going on, hoss?”
I open my locker, which is right next to his. “The Bears want to see my tapes.”
His mouth drops open. “Fucking A. That’s awesome.”
The locker room chatter dies.
Carter stands up on the bench. “A round of applause for hoss, our illustrious QB is being scouted by the Bears.”
The room explodes with guys banging on the lockers and hooting and hollering and throwing out compliments. I barely hear my phone ringing on top of my wallet in my locker.
I want to join in on the celebration, but I need to make sure it isn’t Mom calling about Phoebe. I know it’s not my burner phone. I tuck that baby away in a secret compartment under the back seat in my truck where not even Sam would find it. I don’t keep Ray’s phone on until I’m getting ready to hit the streets. He insists I check in with him before I unload my supply. I usually drop by the car repair shop on most nights to pick up my inventory anyway. I try not to keep that shit on me if I can help it.
Seeing Sam’s name on the screen, I immediately answer. The panic coursing through me makes my hands shake. He never calls me. He’s usually tutoring, at the library, or immersed in Mortal Kombat, at this time of day, which only means something happened to my sister.
My heart splinters as I say, “What’s up?”
The guys are loud, causing me to stick
my head in my locker to hear Sam.
“You better get back to the dorm.” His tone is laced with worry. “Emily, man. She’s here.”
I check on the guys around me, making sure no one is listening. My gaze is bouncing around the room like a ball that got away from a basketball player. The last thing I need is for Coach Parker lurking in the shadows. He’s been known to listen in on our convos as we talk after practices.
“Adam,” Sam practically shouts through the phone.
With the coast clear, I stick my head back in my locker. “Are you telling me...”
“Yes, Emily Parker,” Sam confirms. “Please, get over here now. She’s...she’s strung out on something and stinks of alcohol.”
Fuuuck!
I hang up, making quick work to shower and dress. As I do, the guys are giving me high-fives for the scout news and saying congrats. But all I hear is Emily Parker is strung out, and my gut twists and churns. I don’t have time to think.
Coach Parker is so going to have my balls staked in the end zone for sure if he finds out about this.
I’m hurrying the fuck out when Carter catches up to me. “You look like you lost your lunch, hoss.” His blue eyes are swimming with concern. “Everything okay?”
Fuck no.
I’m about to puke up the big bowl of chicken pasta I ate earlier.
“I need to call my mom. She left me a message, and I want to be sure my sister is okay,” I lie.
Fucking drugs. I don’t take them, but my actions in some ways sure reflect that of a stoner as the lies keep coming.
“We’ll talk later,” I holler as I’m hoofing it to my truck.
Thankfully, Carter is cool and knows my family is important. “We’ll celebrate this weekend,” he shouts at my retreating form.
It’s too soon to get excited about the Bears. Sure, I’m fucking over the moon that a team is biting, but that’s just it—they’re only biting.
Holding on to Forever Page 9