by Shey Stahl
“You’re so full of shit right now.” I laugh breathlessly, my bare chest shaking with the movement. I lift my hands and scrub them over my eyes. “I need redemption,” I say, reaching for her. This time I move my hand between her legs and make sure she’s taken care of first. Watching her come apart at my touch is pretty close to perfection.
And then we do it once more, this time slower, kissing passionately.
“Was that better?” I finally ask, holding her to my chest as we stare up at the ceiling.
“Yes, perfect.” She closes her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her perfect lips. My fingers reach out to run across her collarbone. She lays her head on my chest, curling into me. “That should have been my first time.”
The words hang in the air. My heart beats rapidly while her breathing’s erratic.
There are a thousand things I can say, most of which are completely cheesy, but instead, I say nothing. I stare at her. Take my heart, honey. Rip it from my chest and write your name in my blood because I don’t want to live without you. I wanna tell her that, but I don’t.
Some people can’t help being sad. Then there’s some who want to be happy, like Barrette, but something inside them forces them not to be. Shoves them to the edge of darkness that lurks in the corners, waiting to destroy their light. That’s what happened to Barrette. She was pushed.
Being sad doesn’t just happen either.
Neither does depression.
You can’t ignore it. It won’t let you. It’s in your words, your will, and your unwavering control. It stays there, infecting you until it takes over and consumes you.
I know because I know the girl who’s being destroyed by it.
Barrette’s eyes find mine, tears in hers, I don’t know what’s in mine when she whispers, “I wanted you to be my first. I’m sorry they took that.”
I kiss her temple and hold her tighter. “Don’t ever be sorry. They didn’t take you.”
I love you through it all, even our darkest moments.
I watch him sleep, fascinated by the way his face looks when the morning sun hits the gold in his hair. I want to live in this space, the warmth, the comfort, forever. In our tiny bubble inside this room, we’re perfect.
I knew what having sex with Asa would mean. Losing myself and weighted by emotions that chained me to an existence of filling voids. What I didn’t know was how unlocked I would feel. A smile no longer forced. Yearning so badly to be whole, I cram my space with his kisses and let him heal me, completely exposed and vulnerable.
And he did. I saw his face, the love, the planes of regret, but would he ever know what he gave me? I’m not sure I could accurately express it to him, so I don’t even try.
He stirs beside me, his lips brushing my forehead. “I have to get to practice.”
I nod, blinking slowly, sleep finally weighing heavy on me. I don’t have class until ten today and I’m looking forward to getting some sleep without nightmares. “Thank you,” I whisper, my hand lingering on his as he sits up.
Smiling, he looks back at me, his hair messed up, eyes sleepy and soft. “I should probably be thanking you.”
My heart thuds in my ears, wanting so badly to whisper what I really feel, that I love him, but I’m afraid to let the words slip out so easily. Neither of us say anything, but there’s tightness around his eyes. He looks so serious with the planes of his face etched in an unnamed motion. “Are you okay?”
I bite my lip, holding back the swell of feelings washing over me. “I’m more than okay.” I nod, my emotions clogging my throat.
He closes his eyes and then opens them again. “Call me later?” he asks, his voice torn as he swallows.
I smile and nod. “Yeah, I have class at ten. Meet for lunch maybe?”
He shoulders sink. “Can’t. Team lunch to watch films and then we have our team dinner before the game tomorrow.”
I knew that. Every Friday night before the Saturday games the team had dinner together and stayed off campus at a hotel to ward off any temptations the players might have to party before the game.
“There’s always Sunday.”
“Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll call you when I’m done. Probably won’t be until eight though. Maybe later.”
“I can wait.”
He studies me and lets out a sigh as his eyes drift back to my naked body. “How am I gonna make it through today thinking about this?” His hand moves to my hips, gripping the sheets covering my lower hips.
I giggle when he lays back down with me, his mouth trailing over my neck. “You’re gonna be late,” I remind him when he’s trying to crawl on top of me again.
His forehead rests against mine. “I know.”
We stare at one another again and the emotion surfaces, my words on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him I love him. His arm gives way and he settles his weight on me, all of it, every hard line. I’ve never felt like this before, so alive it bursts through me in a shock wave, residing deep in my bones, aching for more. But I knew what I was keeping him from. Practice. Obligations. A life without me in it.
So I let go, pull away and smile. “You should go.”
He nods and inhales a rushed breath. Pushing back, his hand moves to the back of his neck, fighting the urge to return to the bed. And then he frowns. “You’re making it hard to leave.”
I snort and then start giggling when I notice the bulge in his jeans. “Good luck tomorrow.”
Picking up the pillow that fell off the bed earlier, he tosses it at my face just before he picks up his backpack on the floor. Unzipping it, he pulls out a mason jar that’s glowing purple and gold. I stare at it. “What’s that?”
He sets it on my nightstand. “It’s your own starry night.”
I’m constantly searching for stars in the sky, and in Washington, in the fall, it’s damn near impossible. He made me my own. Sitting up, I gasp and reach for it, twisting it in my hands. Taped to the side is a quote.
I smile. Asa looks nervous, biting his lip. “You like it?”
I nod. “I love it. How’d you do this?”
He shrugs a shoulder, shifting his weight to one foot and burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Glitter and a glow stick.”
“Crafty.” I stand up on my bed and lunge myself at him. “Thank you. I love it so much.”
And I love you.
I’m still naked, and he sighs, wrapping his arms around me. “Great. Now I’m hard again.”
I laugh and slide my legs to the floor, effectively rubbing myself down his erection.
He tosses he head back, groaning. “Goddamn it.” And then he’s kissing me again, laying me on the bed and grinding himself into me.
“Asa?”
“Yeah?” he grunts, attacking my neck and shoulder with heated kisses.
“You’re gonna be late.”
He sighs, shaking his head but pushes himself away. With a frown, he covers me with my blankets. “Stay there.” He leans in and kisses my lips, just once. “Don’t move and I’ll be back in a few days.”
I laugh. “I’m not staying in bed for two days.” It wouldn’t be the first time.
He grumbles something, but I don’t hear what before he slips out the door.
I can’t stop the smile that surfaces. Sleep hangs over me as I stare at the glittery mason jar on my nightstand. I can’t believe he made that for me. If I hadn’t already been in love with Asa, I would have fallen completely this morning. Even in my relaxed state, a rush of fear pricks my skin when I think about the torment on his face as he made love to me. I say make love because it didn’t feel like sex or fucking—there was love present in every touch we made. Years of waiting had led to that, and I knew, deep down, I was filling a void I didn’t understand. One I might never understand.
Since I was old enough to pick a football up, I’ve loved it. I wanted to be at the center of it all. I didn’t want to be the running back and the tight end, or even a lineman. Let�
�s face it, I’m not built to be a lineman. What I am is the guy in control. When I call “hut,” everyone moves. I’m where it’s at. The play doesn’t start until I give the okay.
“Ready?” Terrell is watching me, waiting for an answer. We’re halfway through the fourth quarter and he knows I am; he’s just checking. I nod and we move to the line of scrimmage.
Am I ready? Probably not. I’m not ready to call the play. My mind is obsessing, contemplating, going over and over what yesterday meant. Was it too much for her? Should I have stopped it? Should I have told her I loved her?
I wait for the snap. My heart pounds rapidly in anticipation, my mind working to strategize and see the play before it happens. I clap my hands, the ball snaps, and I spot Roman midfield, but he’s tied up with a defender. I fake to the left and then spin around to the right and throw across field to Dem. He doesn’t gain any ground. He’s tackled at the ten-yard line.
I have two options at this point. I can run the play myself or throw the ball. I run the ball myself, stiff arm a guy and then lay myself out for the touchdown. Coach hates it when I do this, afraid I’ll get hurt, but when I see an opening, I take it.
We win the game against the Bears 38-7. I surprised myself with big numbers there too when I threw for over 290 yards and rushing thirty-two times for 178 yards despite the wind and rain. It was relentless, and the ball kept slipping out of my hands. The field was a swamp after the game.
It’s a big win for us. Part of me isn’t feeling it. Since it’s a home game, we’re looking to get rowdy and party, but my mind isn’t on the game, or the win. It’s on her. It’s on the girl I can’t shake. With the way my schedule has been, I haven’t been able to see her since the other night when we had sex. I have no idea what her feelings are, how she’s feeling, and it fucking kills me.
The guys find a party at a nearby frat house that serves us just fine with an endless supply of beer. I don’t drink much. And though I don’t want to be at a party, I want to be with Barrette, I welcome the distraction for a couple of hours. I texted her, but she hasn’t answered yet.
Terrell stands from his spot beside me and then leaves, finding a place near the keg. A minute later, he comes back with four beers and a bong. I get up and leave. I’ve smoked before, but not during the season. It’s not worth it to me to get caught. The NCAA takes that shit seriously and performs random drug testing throughout the season. I don’t understand the guys who smoke during the season, or even before a game. Why? What’s the point? They all know we have a bowl game coming up and they’ll random test us, but it doesn’t seem to bother them. Especially Roman and Codey. It’s like they have no regard for rules.
I’m sitting on a couch, well away from the guys smoking and I’m about ready to leave. I need to go check on her.
“Hey, man, is Barrette Blake your girl?” Codey asks, sitting beside me with a fresh beer in his hand. He reeks of his bad decisions and vodka. We’ve played together for two years now, but I don’t talk personal shit with him.
“Why?” I ask, my glare changing his expression real quick. He’s scared of me. He hands me a beer. For some reason, I take it, thinking maybe I might want to dump it on him.
“Just curious.” He leans in, his shoulder pressing to mine like we’re fucking buddies. We’re not. “She’s a hot little piece of ass.” He raises his fist as if I’m supposed to fist-bump him over his derogatory remarks. “Ya feel me?”
Ya feel me? You’re about to feel my fucking fist in your teeth you piece of shit. My entire body bursts into flames and I’m sweating. I look over at him, so many violent images surfacing. I want to smash his face into the ground and make him eat his goddamn words. I’ve always been protective of Barrette but now, since the other night, it’s worse. It’s uncontrollable and I don’t know how to handle it.
And then he has the nerve to ask, “You share?”
I lose it on him. Tossing the beer aside, I watch as it hits the floor with a thud, the liquid splashing over the carpet and I twist violently, my eyes wild, my intentions unpredictable. Even I don’t know what I’m going to do next.
He looks to the beer, then me. His hands rise, his eyes widen. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I stand, and without thinking, I grab him by the front of his shirt and lift him up to eye level, my knuckles white, my breathing harsh and barely controlled. Flashes of Barrette’s broken bloody body flood my mind and suddenly, I can do something about it. I could take it out on Codey. “You even fucking mention her name again and I will break your goddamn jaw. Ya feel me?”
He swallows, fear evident and blows out a quick breath. “Sorry, man.”
I let go of him and he flops back against the couch, our teammates rushing over to us. Terrell grabs me by the shirt. “You good?”
Annoyed, I roll my head to his. “I’m out.”
Terrell sighs and glares at Codey. “Now look what you’ve done.”
I intend on leaving, but I see Barrette come in the house with Joey. It’s not unheard of for her to be at a party. It’s not like I expect her to stay in her room all the time and it makes me feel better to see her with Joey.
I watch her for just a moment, no smile, no awareness of anything around her. She scans the room, but she hasn’t noticed me yet. My heart thuds louder in my ears.
She walks by and finally notices me. Relief floods her eyes, her adorable smile contagious. I move toward her, waiting to see what she’ll do. Without hesitation, she wraps her arms around my neck. “You won.”
“I won more than the game,” I whisper, holding her close. “I texted you.”
“Sorry. My phone died during the game.”
I draw back looking down at her. “Were you at the game?”
She waves her hand around. “No, we watched on my phone, which is why it’s dead.”
I laugh and pull her back toward me to kiss her. In front of everyone, I kiss her. I wonder if she realizes this is a first, but then again, I don’t think I care what anyone thinks. Technically, it’s just a kiss. But it’s so much more now. More meaning, more feelings, more impatience on my part for sure because I’d rather be anywhere but here.
Joey gags beside us. “You guys are gross. You’re making me sick to my stomach.”
Roman approaches, smiling and hands Joey a beer. “Hey, JoJo.” He’s clearly drunk, obnoxiously so, and snakes his arm around her shoulder. “When are you going to give me some honey bear?” Though his question is meant for Joey, his stare lingers on Barrette.
Joey laughs in his face. “You couldn’t handle my honey.”
There’s probably some truth to it, but something bothers me about the way he has his arm around Joey. She doesn’t look comfortable with him. I know what happened to Joey. Barrette told me one night, with Joey’s permission of course, and then months later, Joey opened up to me. I hated knowing there are thousands of women out there going through the same motions Barrette is.
A heavy bass thumps throughout the house, shaking the windows and my chest. Barrette leans into me, her body curving into mine. To the ordinary eye, we look like a couple though we’ve never talked about what the other night meant.
She pulls at my hand, leaving Roman with Joey. “Dance with me.”
I can’t deny her. My nerves are still on edge, but I do as she asks because this feels so normal, and I want normal so badly.
She moves closer. I watch and move with her. My breath hits her neck and she curls around me, melting against me. Her heat becomes one with my heat. Thoughts of our time together the other night flood my brain and it’s everything I can do to keep my excitement in check and not be obvious. I can’t draw my eyes from her hips when she brings them forward and back again to the beat of the bass.
My eyes move from her hips to over her shoulder where I see Eva watching with curiosity, and then to where Roman is watching. He’s not looking at me. No, his eyes are on Barrette’s ass that my hands are on. I look away from him. If I don’t, I’ll break his fucki
ng jaw for watching her like this.
Barrette looks at me, her face inches from mine. I see it then. I’m comfort for her. She can fall to pieces before me and I’m holding it all together.
“What are you doing to me?” I whisper in her ear. She could stab me in the heart at this point and it wouldn’t hurt as much as it does to know this might not work. It might be too much for her at any time and I’m going to have to pump the brakes. In my fucked-up sense of reality, a world without her in it isn’t worth living. So I’ll do anything she wants.
Her eyes water and I hold her closer. I want to fucking kiss her in front of everyone. I want to fuck her against the wall in front of this room just to let them know she’s mine. And I hate that I’m thinking that way because she deserves better.
“What?” she asks, her breath hitting my skin. It sends shivers through my chest.
My face is close enough that I smell her sweetness, the coconut of her shampoo, but she smells like me too. She smells like my sweat. My scent is all over her and I like that. “You.” Pulling back, I watch her reaction, feeling her chest heaving against mine, her heart beating wildly against mine. “What are you doing to me?”
She hesitates to answer. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean?”
I curve an eyebrow at her, she stops moving. I love you. And in a sense, I hate you. It’s harsh, I know, but the hate I have isn’t for her, it’s our situation and the future that might not be. Because of them. Because she won’t report it.
She waits for me to say more, to put words to my expression. I don’t and I study her face. I see a broken girl dying inside and I’m going fucking insane. She’s trying to be brave when all she’ll ever be is a shadow of the person she once was.
We’re standing together, no longer moving and her hands slip from my shoulders. “You don’t want this, do you?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just not sure you’re ready for it.”
Her eyes narrow. “You don’t get to decide what I’m ready for, Asa.” And then she turns to leave. I try to reach for her, but she’s at Joey’s side before I can get to her.