Saving Barrette

by Shey Stahl

  Damn it. They leave and I let them. She doesn’t need me to follow her and demand to put a meaning on this. She needs Joey and I need to let her.

  My mind races with thoughts when Roman approaches me. “Put in a good word with JoJo for me,” he says, his arm around my shoulder. He’s high, his pupils so dilated you can no longer see the blue in his eyes.

  I stare at him, anger pulsing through me. “Why, so you can treat her like shit when you’re done with her?” Joey is nothing like the girls he fucks around with. He goes for super skinny, tan, and blonde. Joey’s tall, thick, with jet-black hair.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “With you it always is.” I know what he puts Cadence through. He offers her a few nights, maybe a month of his time before he fucks it up and he’s screwing around on her. He puts that poor girl through hell.

  WHEN I’M BACK in my dorm, I stand at the sink with the water running. When it’s cold enough, I splash the water over my face and then stare at myself in the mirror, wondering what the fuck my problem is.

  I read this quote by Plato the other day in my philosophy class, and this jumble of feelings I have for Barrette jumped up and started screaming at me when I read it. “We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”

  That’s where we are right now. Everyone’s afraid of the dark, afraid to emerge back into the light of the living.

  I LOVE HOME games but playing on the road makes me feel like I’m going somewhere. Like I have more to offer than just college ball. The week following that home game, we travel to eastern Washington to play the Cougars.

  Four times that week I find myself in Barrette’s room and though I don’t intend for it to lead to sex every time, it does and it’s good. We’re good, even if we’re hiding from reality. I fight with myself to demand more, and just as easily, I tell myself it’s enough if it’s what she needs.

  I sit next to Terrell on the bus and use his shoulder to get some sleep—something I don’t get during the week. He lets me until I drool a little down his shirt sleeve. He pushes me off him. “Dude, gross.”

  I laugh, my phone finding my attention. There are two texts from Barrette wishing me good luck and one of her sending me a kissing emoji.

  I’m tempted to blow off the game and rush to her dorm. Fuck football if I can’t have her, but I know that won’t solve anything. Maybe time away is what we both need. Unfortunately, since I had sex with her, something changed between us. For both of us. I knew it would happen too. I knew it, and I did it anyway so I can’t place blame on anyone but myself. The problem is the change for me is fucking obsession. I want her, all the time, every minute of the day and I’m afraid the attachment I have to her is bordering on unhealthy.

  We arrive at the Cougars stadium and it’s our usual routine, pregame rituals, praying, taping ankles, talking to the offensive coordinator and the starting offensive line and going over plays. It’s a good couple of hours before we take to the field. When we do, it’s all business. There’s usually very little joking around and game faces in place. College football is way more intense than what you would think.

  I know what I can do on the field. I know where plays can happen and where they can’t. I know the strong guys, and I know the ones who tend to get caught up. Roman’s strong, he rarely gets caught up. I can trust that if I throw to him, he’s gonna be there. Same with Dem. I know where both of them are at all times and, yeah, I favor them on the field because of that.

  I’m having an amazing game throwing for over 366 yards so far. My passing is spotless even though the guys I favor on the field are covered a lot. In the first and second quarters, I’ve run the ball three times already.

  Halfway through the third quarter, I call the play, looking left, then right, seeing the boys poised and ready. The ball snaps I take two steps back, then another. I see Roman midfield but then I’m jarred from the left, blindsided, feeling the reverberation through my skull. Right before my head snaps back, I see Codey on the ground when he should have been blocking me. My helmet goes flying and then the next thing I remember is about twenty guys are around me.

  If I could have kicked Codey’s ass right then, I would have. That one knocks me pretty good. I can’t even stand up without seeing stars. They don’t let me off the field without strapping me to a backboard. I do see Codey as I’m being hauled into the locker room and make him come closer to give him a piece of my mind. I grab hold of his jersey. “You need to protect me in the pocket.”

  He says nothing.

  Fucker.

  Blinking, I try to focus. It does nothing and I still can’t see. The coaches swarm around me after that, as does our team physician. I don’t care for our team physician. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing half the time and the fact that he asks me, “What happened?” proves my theory. Had he not been watching the game?

  I’m fine. But I’m also bleeding from a cut above my eye. I think it’s making me a little loopy.

  Once they have me in the locker room on that fucking backboard that I find completely unnecessary, our team doctor is in my face asking me all kinds of questions, but I have no answers. I can’t even see him let alone answer him. Everything’s blurry.

  Coach Benning pats my shoulder. “Let’s get you checked out, kid.” He smiles when I squint at him. “Just precautionary.”

  Yeah, right.

  They make me take a ride to the hospital and it’s uneventful. At the hospital, they ask me questions I didn’t know before the game.

  They do some scans, X-rays, and a neurological exam. It’s decided pretty early I have a slight concussion but nothing more.

  I don’t remember the bus ride back to Seattle. At all. I apparently slept the entire way on Terrell’s lap. He treats me good as long as I don’t drool.

  When we pull up to the stadium, he shakes my shoulders. “Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  I sit up, noticing the bus is nearly empty. “Did we win, Coco Puff?”

  Terrell laughs. I call him Coco Puff sometimes. Actually, only when I’m drunk. Or obviously when I’m concussed. “Yeah, we did.” He stands and reaches for my hand. “Now, am I gonna have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you home?”

  Sitting there for a few minutes, I sigh when I see that we are in fact the last people left on the bus. He nudges my knee. “I have to piss, man, get up.”

  We head inside to the locker room retrieve our bags and then head back to the dorms. It’s around two in the morning.

  Terrell is in charge of keeping an eye on me and making sure I get some rest. When we get inside our dorm room, he’s talking about the game and how Roman and Codey got in a fight in the locker room. I don’t care. My mind is not on that game any longer. It’s on Barrette when I look at the clock. I start feeling like I need her.

  Why her?

  Why can’t I leave her alone?

  Because.

  I think I can save her.

  I lay in bed and wish for sleep. I do for a while and then stare at the clock as the minutes go by.

  2:58 a.m.

  3:05 a.m.

  3:16 a.m.

  Around four, I reach for my phone and see she texted me four minutes ago. It gives me hope she wants and needs more.

  6 Hours Earlier

  My mind won’t stop hanging on everything Asa did and said to me. It was everything, and so much more. What he gives me, his tenderness, there’s no way I can even express what it means to me.

  Did you know the name Asa in Hebrew means physician or healer? It also means he’s optimistic. Enthusiastic. Humorous. Intelligent. All things he is, and I don’t know where I fit into any of those.

  I watch every game Asa plays. I may not go to the games always, but I watch them. Crowds make me uncomfortable, so I usually stay in my dorm and watch them, or go to the pizza place on campus and watch them with Joey.

  I watch the game, my attention on him. The cameraman
flashes to Roman first, chewing on his mouthpiece, looking like his mind is far from the game. Three feet down, they show Asa, and his numbers for the game pop up on the screen. He’s there with an iPad in hand and the offensive coordinator hovered over him pointing out specifics.

  It’s sometime in the third quarter when the crowd goes wild. I jump and my eyes snap to the screen when I see the concern in everyone’s faces. Asa is sacked on the play, but he doesn’t get up.

  He doesn’t move.

  For over three minutes, he doesn’t move.

  I cannot breathe.

  They show the replay and his helmet comes flying off and then the snap as his head smacks the turf. My stomach knots but eases when he moves his legs up and rests his feet flat on the ground and then rolls to his side. Breathing a sigh of relief, Joey grabs my hand. “He’s okay.”

  But is he? He doesn’t look like it.

  Seeing Asa transported off the field on a stretcher is not easy on me.

  I ask Joey to leave. I can’t watch any more of the game if he’s not in it. As we’re walking back to my dorm, I send Roman a text knowing he’ll reply to me when the game is over.

  “Are you gonna be okay?” Joey asks, waiting outside my dorm room. She lives two doors down with a girl who eats tuna fish every single day. Her room smells awful. “Because I could stay and cuddle. I have plenty of fluff for you to lay against,” she teases, winking at me and doing an hour-glass motion with her hands. “I might not be all solid lines like your boy, but I’m definitely cuddle-bug material.”

  It’s tempting and wouldn’t be the first time Joey helped me while I feared sleep and the ghosts of my dreams, but I resist. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

  Just before she leaves, Joey pauses and looks over at me. She has the prettiest brown eyes that remind me of chocolate syrup. “Don’t push Asa away. I know it’s hard, believe me, I know. I seldom let men in because why would they want me?”

  I lean into the wall. “Jo, don’t talk like that. You’re beautiful.”

  “Gurl, please. I know this.” She laughs and tucks her dark curls behind her ear. “But being beautiful and having the body men want, that’s completely different. And I’m fine with that. I love myself and I’m not trying to be what they want. But you, my friend, Asa Lawson is one hundred percent in love with your tiny ass and you’re constantly giving him an out. You’re convinced because of what you guys went through, he can’t give you what you want, or that you’re incapable of receiving it. That’s not the case.”

  It’s not that I’m incapable of receiving his love. It’s that he’s scared to give it to me in fear of what it means. “I think he’s scared.”

  Joey nods. “He probably is. The biggest hurdle to get over in a relationship is sexual trauma. You have to set new boundaries, reevaluate them often, and make changes as time progresses. But Asa Lawson, babe, he’d follow you to the ends of the earth and back again.”

  I have no doubt she’s right.

  When Joey leaves, my room is filled with an all-encompassing quietness as I sit on my bed clutching my pillow. I think about the brown in his eyes and the way he looked moving above me the other night. I put my hand to my face and remember the sensations that follow when he touches me, the imprint of him pumping through my veins.

  Joey’s right, we do have to set boundaries, but with Asa, I don’t want to follow the rules. I want that reckless, unforbidden love that tempts me, and is it so bad that he gives it to me? I’m tired of editing my thoughts and censoring my words because I’m afraid I can’t give him what he needs. Or at least, I think I can’t give him what he needs.

  What if I can?

  Roman texts me back and tells me Asa was transported to the hospital and released with a concussion. They’re already heading home.

  I sigh in relief, holding my cell phone to my chest.

  I’m alone in my room for a few minutes when Cadence knocks on the door to the bathroom and peeks her head in. I look up at her and wait.

  “Have you heard from Asa?” she asks, concern on her face. “I saw that hit. Looked brutal.”

  I nod and hold up my cell phone. “Roman said he was okay.”

  With the mention of Roman’s name, she frowns and steps back. “’K.” And then she disappears back to her room without another word.

  Sometimes I get the urge to talk to her, but then I remember our last conversation when she got upset with me that I wanted to spend more time with Asa than her. “You’re choosing him over me when I’m the one who was there for you when he left and you had nobody else.” That’s what she said to me, and I knew our friendship would never be the same again.

  For a long time, I tried to put myself in Cadence’s shoes that night and if it had been her, falling down drunk, would I have left her with those guys?

  No. Not a chance. I would have stayed there until she passed out and then I would have taken her home. I would not have ever left her alone despite what she told me to do. And no, I can’t blame her for anything that happened. I told her to leave.

  It doesn’t stop me from wishing we would have remained friends.

  I SIT AT the window for hours watching to see if I can see any players returning to campus. I should text him or maybe call. No, don’t do that. He’s probably busy and me calling will just make him panic and think something is wrong.

  I calculate how long it will take for them to get back to campus before I can text Asa. Another hour later, I see the steady trickle of players come in, Codey, Terrell, then Roman.

  I wait another few minutes before I send him a text just before two in the morning, knowing he’ll more than likely be up.

  Me: You ok? I saw that play. It looked like it rocked you.

  He replies within a few minutes.

  Asa: I’m good. You up? I could rock you.

  My cheeks warm, my smile automatic. I love when he’s playful and flirty.

  Me: I’m up.

  Asa: Be there in 15.

  He’s right. He’s here in fifteen minutes. I look up, reaching out to touch the mark on his face. “Are you okay?”

  “They say…” he stumbles a little, “I’m concussed.”

  I laugh when he falls into me. His fingers reach down and wrap around mine, and he begins to pull me toward him. My pulse races. He reaches for me, cupping my cheeks in his hands and draws me closer. Closing my eyes, I lean in.

  “I missed you.” He kisses my forehead, and then my temple, breathing in slowly. “God, I’ve missed you. This football schedule is crazy.” And then he kisses me deeply but pulls away just as quickly. He lays down on my bed with me and I curl into his arms just like we’ve done time and time again. Only now, since we’ve had sex four other times this week, I wonder if that’s what he wants. I do. I definitely do. Those nights, though the nightmares that followed were hard, I don’t regret them. Not in the least. In some kind of weird sense, all I’ve been able to think about is having him inside me again. I crave it.

  My hand slips under his T-shirt, feeling his smooth, hot, rigid muscles. “Do you want to?”

  Taking my hand that’s on his stomach, he moves it lower to between his legs. “I’m up for anything,” he says. His voice is a tender whisper I find endearing and I can tell he’s still on the pain pills they gave him.

  My heart thumps wildly in my chest. “Clearly,” I tease, palming his erection through his jeans, my words coming out scratchy, like I have a cold. It’s because I’m swallowing back emotions I’m afraid to let him know.

  He groans, his lips finding mine again before he rolls and presses his hardness into my thigh. I want him between my legs. Now. He cups my cheek again. His hands shake slightly, a grunt falling from his slightly open mouth when he grinds into me. “Fuck, you’re all I’ve been able to think about.”

  I nod, never parting my lips from his. “Me too. I never thought it could be like this, to want you so badly.” It’s the truth. When I thought about sex after my assault, it made me sick to my stomach, unless it
was Asa. I’ve only ever wanted him.

  Asa brings his mouth to mine, just as eager as me. One hand cups my face, his other tight around my waist, holding me closer. His mouth, it’s hard and all-consuming, a newfound edge to his passion. I spread my legs wider, wanting everything he’s giving me.

  Suddenly, he pauses and rips his shirt off, then mine. And when he returns, I lock my legs around his waist because I don’t want any space between us.

  With his forehead against mine, our bodies fuse together as one with him rocking into me, our breaths mixing as one. We stay in a rhythm, our eyes on one another and it’s obvious we want more, but he’s not rushing just yet. He seems strangely focused on something… words maybe?

  Holding the side of my head, he keeps his forehead pressed against mine. He’s looking into my eyes, searching for something. I’m not even sure what. His jeans are on, as are my panties and I think at any moment he’s going to make the effort to remove them, but no. He’s staring at me like he wants to say something. That or he hit his head too hard tonight.

  “What?” I finally ask, smiling softly.

  Sighing, he kisses my forehead and closes his eyes. I tuck my head against his chest, but I hear it. The words “I love you, Barrette” are whispered in my ear.

  I let the words sink in, find roots and dig deep inside me. I breathe and squeeze my eyes shut. He didn’t say it, did he? Had I imagined it?

  He doesn’t wait for me to say it back. He’s on his knees, unbuttoning his jeans. I lay there, trying to comprehend what he said, but I really want us naked for no other reason but as a distraction. I love him. I do. I love him so much it hurts, and when I tell him, he’s going to feel the words like I just did.

  Tears I hadn’t prepared for roll down my cheeks. They’re not tears of sadness or regret; they’re happy-in-the-moment tears.

  Asa lifts his eyes to mine, notices the tears, the smile, and slowly leans in to trail his fingers down my stomach to my hips where he slips my panties past my thighs. Tossing them aside, he places his palms on the mattress and hovers over me. I reach up and touch his face and notice the stitches above his eye. Unfortunately, he notices my tears then. “Why are you crying?” he mumbles.