Saving Barrette

by Shey Stahl

  I sit in class, unfortunately next to Eva, who finds me and slides into the seat next to me. I’m drinking coffee and chasing that with water, Gatorade, and painkillers, trying to rid the pounding in my head.

  “Rough night?” Eva asks, smiling at me.

  I grunt and slouch in my chair, flipping my phone around in my hand. I haven’t talked to Barrette since before the game on Saturday, and I’m getting anxious. I almost didn’t even come to class, but I needed to hand in my paper.

  Eva touches my hand. “I could make it better for you.”

  “Doubt that,” I mumble, shifting away from her and scanning the room for any other open seat. There are none.

  “Does she make it better?”

  I look at Eva out of the corner of my eyes. “What?” My words are pushed out in annoyance that she keeps trying to get with me. Why is she so into me? Sure, I can play football, but when have I ever given any of these cheerleaders an indication I’m into any of them? I haven’t. I’m nice, but apparently, maybe I need to cool it with the niceness too.

  She tucks a strand of her newly blonde hair behind her ear. I fight off an eye roll that she dyed her damn hair a lighter color. “Barrette… she’s your girlfriend, am I right?”

  “Yeah, she is.” I’ve never said it out loud, but even though we haven’t put a label on it, Barrette is so much more than a girlfriend. There isn’t even a word for what she means to me. I gesture between us. “You and I are never happening. I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but you’re not getting the hints. We’re never gonna happen.”

  At first, I don’t look at her. And then she laughs and I glance over. She covers her mouth. “Sorry, I just… no one has ever turned me down over someone like Barrette Blake. I honestly thought she was seeing Roman. They seemed pretty cozy in class the other day.”

  Someone like Barrette Blake? Like she’s suddenly not good enough? And Roman? Fucking Roman? I knew they talked and had a couple classes but together? I don’t fucking think so. And that’s where I’ve had enough. “Why don’t you just mind your own business and stick to what you’re good at, cheerleading and fucking anybody but me.”

  I’m about to walk out of class but noise beside me draws my attention. It’s Terrell. He frowns, annoyed with me, probably for puking on his bed, and then leans forward eyeing Eva. She looks like she’s about to cry and I don’t even feel bad about it. I played nice guy for too long. Done with it.

  Terrell sits back, his eyes wide. “Daaaamn, Gina, why ya pissin’ off the ladies?”

  I roll my eyes. I don’t say anything. I’m not sure I can.

  Eva leaves, moving toward the rest of her friends in this class. Terrell nudges my shoulder and makes me spill my Gatorade down the front of my shirt. “Listen, A. You know you’re buying me new Star Wars sheets, right?”

  I brush the blue liquid from my shirt and glare at him. “Why you have Star Wars sheets should be the bigger question here.”

  He winks at me and pops the lid to his coffee to dump four sugars in it, then three creamers. “Because the force is with me, brother.”

  Once class starts, finally everyone stops talking to me. Outside the classroom, that’s a different story. Coach texts and asks me to come early to the training center and ruins my plans of trying to catch Barrette before practice. I know what he wants to talk to me about. Roman. The fight. My attitude. Could be a number of things these days.

  Inside his office, he stares at me with his thick, brooding eyebrows drawn together. “What’s going on with you lately?”

  I shrug, trying to play it off.

  “No, that’s not an answer. You’re my starting quarterback, and if your head isn’t in it, it shows on the field. Yeah, we won the last game but you and I both know we got lucky. We’re sloppy. You’re here to play football, Asa, not fight. You made an obligation and a commitment to this team. You understand me?”

  I nod, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, sir.”

  He raises an eyebrow and leans forward, his elbows on his desk. “Do you? I thought you did. Shit, you’re the most levelheaded player on this team, but lately, lately something’s up. You need to be able to put your personal life aside if you’re wanting to make a career of this.”

  He’s right, I do, but then again, I can’t. I can’t put her aside.

  I leave his office, head to the weights room, and it’s more of the same shit as before. Roman smarting off like a tool, Codey following in his footsteps and me, trying like hell to ignore their shit. I honestly feel myself slipping. There’s only so long a man can be expected to sit back and take shit day after day.

  Roman, Codey, they fuck with me because they can. They know I can only do so much before I risk being suspended or worse yet, kicked off the team and ruining any chance I have of playing in the NFL. So they take their jabs and talk their crap and I’ve got to try and ignore it like the good little football soldier I’m expected to be. It’s too much. And to tell the truth, I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

  My life feels like it’s not even mine. My body belongs to football, my mind belongs to classes, and my heart, my soul, my very being belongs to Barrette. I have no control and it feels like every day I’m losing a little bit more of myself.

  Terrell spots me while I lift and notices my mood. “C’mon, boy. Get your head in it.”

  He means into lifting, but I think he’s probably implying so much more.

  Beside us, Roman and Codey are ragging on Dem and a couple others from the defensive line. And then their conversation shifts to the cheerleaders. I ignore it for the most part, but it’s fucking ridiculous the shit they talk about them. I’m the first to admit a lot of them are easy and spread their legs faster than we can blink, but they’re not all like that. Some are respectable and here to learn, not fuck. You wouldn’t think it by the way these fools talk though. What really fucks with my head is when they start throwing Barrette’s name in the mix.

  I glance over at them. Roman smirks. Codey winks.

  Terrell focuses in on me lying on the bench, my arms extended on the bar. “Ignore ’em. Give me five more.”

  I nod and push through my frustrations.

  “That’s it, bud. Get it!”

  I push myself because giving up isn’t what I’m good at. I’m good at pushing through it. I know sacrifice and selflessness more than most. Maybe too much.

  Cool air whips around my face, shocking, freezing. I curl into myself, wishing I’d brought a warmer jacket. I hate the cold, but I also relate to it. I crave overcast days, rain, and the stormy weather fall brings with it.

  Breathing in deeply, it’s shocking, the way it hits my lungs and leaves me searching for another. I stare at my shoes as I walk, wishing my mind would stop creating situations and thoughts I don’t understand. I hate being in these moods where nothing’s wrong, but nothing’s right. I wish… I wish I could wake up in the morning and delete all the bad thoughts and be happy. It doesn’t work that way. My heart wrenches in pain, lingering in despair and melancholy, only nothing makes that feeling go away. Usually I can get it to ease. Find a way to pull myself from it.

  Not anymore. Not lately.

  Joey walks me home from our support group Tuesday evening. She makes me laugh and though it’s nice to have a distraction, I still can’t stop thinking about the other night with Roman and studying, and I have yet to see Asa. He texted me last night and said he couldn’t come by my dorm because he was exhausted, and I keep thinking since my breakdown, our relationship—whatever it is—might be breaking apart.

  “So I went on a date and you’re never going to guess with who,” Joey says, her cheeks pink. Never would I think Joey’s cheeks would turn pink. She’s so strong and independent, and I wish in so many ways I had that.

  I look ahead of us noticing the diamond-like sheen to the path. It’s frosty out. “If you tell me it’s Roman, we’re not friends anymore.”

  She makes a face. A disgusted one. “What’s his deal?”

&n
bsp; “His deal? He’s… Roman.” I scuff my feet against the concrete as we walk to see if it’s icy out. “He used to date Cadence, but not anymore.”

  “Your roommate?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh.” She flips her hand around. “It’s not Roman.”

  I smile. “Thank God.” And then she doesn’t say anything, like I’m supposed to guess. “You know I’m never going to guess. I’m so stuck in my own head I barely know what day it is.”

  Joey laughs. “Well, it’s not Roman… and it’s not Asa.”

  I snort. “He can barely handle me,” I mumble.

  “He can, and he does, girl. Don’t do that. We’ve talked about this.”

  “I know, it’s just—” And then I stop myself because this conversation didn’t start about me, and it doesn’t need to continue that way. “Who is it? I’m dying to know.”

  Joey giggles and watches two guys pass by us on the sidewalk. They stare at me, one winks. I look at the ground and pull my hood up. “T-Bone.”

  My eyes widen and I shout, “Terrell? You went on a freaking date with Terrell Wilson?”

  Playfully and barely able to contain her laughter, Joey slaps her hand over my mouth. “Not everyone on campus needs to know that, Barrette.”

  It takes me a minute, but when I catch my breath, I’m finally able to formulate a response. “When? Does Asa know?”

  “I don’t know if he knows, but yesterday after practice, he took me to get burgers. He paid, so I think it’s a date.” She shrugs, and for a half a second, I think about Asa saying he was too tired to hang out with me last night. “But I don’t know, it’s been a while. Is that not considered a date?”

  “You’re asking the wrong girl. I’m having sex with my best friend and I barely talk to him. Pretty sure that’s not dating.” And then I watch the nervousness on her face, and for the first time, I realize she’s not as confident as I thought she was. She’s scared that it’s undefined and also, if I had to guess, uncomfortable with dating given what happened to her. “How did it come about? I didn’t even know you guys knew each other.”

  “We take global health together and he asked if I wanted to get burgers with him. I said yes.”

  I can’t help the smile on my face because she looks so damn happy. “Was he nice? I don’t know much about him other than him being Asa’s roommate.”

  Joey looks over at me, blinking slowly, and I know the pink in her face isn’t from the cold. “He was so sweet. But he’s only ever been sweet to me. He told me about his mom and how she’s single and lives in Louisiana. I guess he almost didn’t come to UW because he didn’t want to leave her, but he was offered a full-ride so….”

  “I wish I was good at something,” I tease. “I need a full ride.”

  “I hear ya, sister. My parents can barely offer anything, and I’m going to be in debt the rest of my life over trying to get an education.”

  “My parents paid for most of mine, but I think it was to get me out of their hair.”

  Joey looks over at me. “Still don’t hear from them much?”

  “Nope. Last time I talked to my mom was in August. They were in Japan on some kind of mission. Next thing you know they’re going to be bringing home a little adorable Japanese baby to replace the damaged one.”

  “She still avoids talking about it with you?”

  I nod. My parents didn’t take the rape well. I knew they wouldn’t, but my mom looked at me like I was damaged goods and my dad, I can’t even tell you the look of disappointment he had when he said, “I can’t believe you put yourself in that position.”

  I know what you’re thinking. What the fuck, right? Pretty much my thoughts too.

  I’ve never liked my parents. I pray someday I find out I’m adopted, and my parents are cool people, like Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith. I think they’d be great parents for me. I read somewhere that babies choose their parents. I think I must have been confused the day I picked mine. Needless to say, it’s the topic of conversation with me and my therapist, and if I even mention it around Asa, he goes crazy with rage. For a month following the rape, I stayed with Asa instead of my house. I have a better relationship with his stepmom than I do my own.

  We’re almost at our dorm. Joey’s going into detail about the date and that Terrell kissed her on the cheek. “On. The. Cheek. Like a perfect gentleman,” she gushes. “Who knew he could be so sweet.”

  We laugh and swoon over it because looking at Terrell, you would never ever think he was capable of being sweet. He’s a 6’5” football player who pounds guys into the turf protecting Asa. And then I notice Asa is outside, sitting on a concrete bench. He doesn’t notice us yet, his attention on his phone.

  “Look who’s there,” Joey whispers, smiling at me.

  My heart drops and then pulses in my chest. I gasp at the cold, or maybe the idea of seeing him. Look at him. He’s beautiful wearing jeans and a purple and gold Husky hoodie. His cheeks are flushed, nose pink, eyes bright. He’s just come from practice and I want to run to him and wrap my arms around his neck. I want to kiss him and publicly display the love I have for him.

  A group of girls approach Asa, their laughter barely contained when he stands and takes a picture with them. They cling to him, grabbing at his hoodie and desperately seeking a connection he’s incapable of. Much like myself, Asa would rather go unnoticed than revered. He hates the prying eyes watching his every move, but it comes with having the abilities he has.

  He smiles, makes small talk with them and then they leave, huddled up in a group, whispering and wishing they had him. I’m jealous of the small glimpse they get of him smiling. I want those smiles for myself. As selfish as that sounds, it’s true.

  He looks up, scanning the courtyard and then they land on me. I’m given a different smile than they received, and if I look closer, I can see his breathing change. He swallows, his brow pinches together, an emotion passing over his features and then he fidgets, shoving his hands in his pockets. I haven’t seen him in three days, and I think it’s done a number on both of us. Our last conversation didn’t go very well, and I’m curious to see what happens now. Will he tell me it’s over?

  I wasn’t expecting him, but my heart thuds louder knowing he’s here, for me. “Hey,” I say, approaching him.

  “Hey.” He exhales, slowly and reaching for my hand. Our fingers brush, a jolt coursing through me. “Sorry I haven’t been around.”

  “You’re busy,” I add. “You don’t need to explain.” Over his shoulders, I notice those same girls who were taking pictures with him watching us.

  Reaching inside his hoodie, he pulls out a bag of Sour Patch Kids and holds them out. “I brought you a treat.”

  I rip the package from his hand. “You know the way to my heart.” I hold them to my chest, but my eyes drift over his shoulder again.

  He turns, glances at them and then turns back to me. Wrapping his arm around me, he buries his face in my neck, breathing in. His cold nose hits my already chilled skin, and I shy away from the cold but laugh. “I missed you,” he whispers with a rough edge, his words rocking through me when his hand around me tightens. I can’t explain it, but a rush hits me. An emotion only he gives and I crave.

  Joey walks ahead of us by a step, laughing. “Night, B. See ya tomorrow.”

  “What about me?” Asa teases, smiling at her.

  She turns and winks at him. “Bye, Asa.”

  His gaze moves to mine, a boyish smirk plastered on his face. “She likes me.”

  I roll my eyes. “Everyone does.”

  At my dorm, I unlock the door. The moment we’re inside, I turn to face him, thinking maybe I might share my candy, but his arms wrap around my waist, his mouth seeking mine. With his foot, he kicks my door shut behind us and never breaks the kiss. His breathing catches, his lips on mine.

  Okay, no candy. Only kisses. I can work with that for sure.

  I sigh into his mouth, the taste of him so much better than sweet and so
ur. His tongue slips in my mouth, his head twisting and deepening the kiss. I reach up on my tippy toes trying to match his six-foot frame but fail miserably.

  His hands slip from my waist, down the swell of my bottom and then the backs of my thighs. Before I know it, he hauls me up flush against his body. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist, melting into him.

  Asa moves to my bed where we fall together, him on top of me. His heat warms me, our breathing heavy, his kisses heavier. It’s hot, hard, and years of want poured into each one.

  With a groan, he pushes his hips into mine, needing friction. His mouth is everywhere and so are his hands. With a grunt, he pushes my hoodie up, his warm hands finding the bare skin of my stomach. Without breaking his kiss, he lifts slightly, holding himself up by his elbow. Traveling his hand lower, he reaches inside the front of my jeans. His mouth pulls away, panting against my lips when he finds the wetness. My eyes close, squirming at his touch. It feels so good.

  His fingers work faster, and I grip his wrist, my body arching at the amazing friction he’s creating. Every moan I give, he groans or grunts, letting me know he’s getting just as much out of it.

  My back arches off the bed and takes everything he’s giving me as my orgasm rushes through me. He kisses me, swallowing my whimpers and pleas for him to never, ever, ever stop.

  “I won’t,” he growls against my lips, kissing me so possessively and desperately it makes me feel whole.

  His mouth is still on mine, and we’re both breathing ridiculously hard now. He’s practically busting through his jeans. Moving his hand to the mattress, he pushes his hips into mine, the roughness of our jeans sending a shiver through me when his hardness meets my sensitive center.

  I sigh in his ear, kissing the spot below his ear. “You’re so good at this.”

  He chuckles, the sound breathless, his mouth finding the hollow spot above my collarbone. Before I know it, he’s pulling his sweatshirt and the T-shirt beneath it off. Roughly, he works my hoodie off as well. Drawing back, he gets his jeans down past his hips and then begins working on mine. I help him out and shimmy them off and toss them on the floor beside my bed with my panties.