by Ella Maise
“If I’m not embarrassed that you saw—”
I sent him a panicked look.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about from that night either,” he continued quickly, and then he grinned. “I’m not embarrassed, just in case you were wondering.”
His penis… I’d had the privilege of seeing his penis, the penis I could still visualize if I closed my eyes—not that I sat around and pictured penises in my mind or anything like that… If I wanted to see one, I could easily ask my boyfriend to take it out for me, though I had not done so as of yet.
His tone had me glancing at him. Did he have to bring that up? Why was he even talking to me? To make me feel even worse? And where the hell were his friends? Chris?
I gave him what I hoped was something close to a smile instead of a grimace and kept quiet.
“You’re gonna tell me your name, right, Flash?” I watched him glance around then focus his gaze back on me. “I mean, it’s crowded, and you proved you’re fast, I’ll give you that, but I’m pretty good on my feet, and this time, now that I know what to look out for, I’ll catch you, no problem.”
Hi Dylan, meet mortification in the flesh.
“Flash?” I asked, confused.
He smiled. “One second you’re there, the next you’re not?”
He was repeating my words.
Clearing my throat, I ignored the somersault of my heart. I had a nickname. He had given me a nickname.
“It’s Zoe.”
There went that smile again.
He tried my name on his lips. Fascinated, I watched him do it. “Zoe. Hmmm. Okay then, Zoe.”
A grin.
Goodie.
“I’m a little late to…somewhere, so…”
No one ever died of a few white lies.
“Still a little shy, huh?” he said quietly, his smile a little smaller now, more intimate.
I moved my bird’s nest of a braid from my left shoulder to my right, thinking that having a curtain between us wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
“I’m afraid it’s a permanent thing.”
As if he knew I was trying to hide behind my hair, he chuckled. “I’ll give you this round then. I need to head back to practice anyway—can’t be late or Coach will have my ass.”
I locked gazes with him and just like that forgot why the hell I would try to get away. Was I actually a little disappointed that he was leaving? How stupid of me.
Look away, Zoe. Don’t look at those eyes.
He lifted his hand to rub his neck and broke our eye contact. “Yeah. Okay then. It was nice running into you, Zoe. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime?”
I smiled at him a little miserably but kept my mouth shut. I didn’t like lying to anyone—even a stranger—if I didn’t have to.
The whole thing, our entire interaction was torture for me, beginning to end. I’m sure you’d have felt the same way if you were watching it happen.
Then Dylan stopped walking next to me and I kept going. It was the end of the road for us, where our paths parted. I closed my eyes and took a long, much-needed breath to clear my mind. I was passing the small cafeteria so it smelled like bad cafeteria pizza and caffeine. My heart was still tripping over itself. Talk about shame. Why couldn’t I not be so…painfully shy?
“Zoe?”
I groaned loudly, and the group of students walking next to me gave me strange looks. I stopped and turned around, a tad bit curious to hear what he was going to say.
He was about ten feet away, just standing in the middle of the busy road. College life—everyone was trying to get somewhere. How come he didn’t bump into anyone and everyone just parted to go around him? His smile slowly grew bigger when he had my attention.
“How about that kiss?”
Frowning, I asked, “What about it?”
“How about we have that kiss now?”
My eyes bulged a little bit and my mouth dropped open, or maybe I choked; I’m not so sure on details. I didn’t look pretty though, I can tell you that much.
I noticed eyes on me, heard low murmurs, and my face started to flush again. Hugging my books closer as if they could protect me or stop me from heading his way, I kinda yelled back at him. “Sorry, I…I…have a boyfriend.”
“You think that would be lovely?” He took a step toward me.
Cheeky bastard.
“I said, I have a boyfriend!” And I did; I really did have a boyfriend. His name was Zack. Zoe and Zack—he thought it was fate. Me, not so much. He wasn’t the love of my life or anything like that, but yeah, we’d been on a few dates, and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t enjoy hearing about me kissing some random guy in the middle of campus.
Someone yelled, “Good for you!” Snickers arose from the crowd, and I flushed some more.
God? Hello? Please, do something. Smite me. Smite me right now.
“Ah…got it.” Dylan wasn’t yelling so much right then. He tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking in place, and I had to force myself not to drop my eyes down to what I already knew was a sizeable package. “We don’t have the best timing in the world, huh, Flash?”
What could I say? I nodded and forced a small smile on my face. Was that disappointment I was seeing in his eyes? And were those butterflies taking flight somewhere in my stomach?
He started walking backward, his steps light and easy, his eyes still on me. “See you around, Zoe. Third time is the charm, so maybe next time we’ll make it happen.”
I wouldn’t bet on that, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. I just lifted my hand and gave him a small wave.
He smiled that smile—that big, careless, oh-so-beautiful one—gave me a quick salute, and then turned around to jog away. Yup, it had been smart of me to choose not to jog—he would have totally caught up with me in no time.
The first time I’d parted ways with him, I’d done so with tears running down my face from the humiliation and shame. This time…this time I had all the smiles in the world.
Chapter Three
Dylan
One year later
It was ten PM on a Friday night, and I was dead on my feet, as I was almost every day. I loved it that way, lived for it.
I’d woken up at six AM as I did every morning so I could get in my first workout of the day before a quick breakfast and a team meeting. Straight from the meeting, I ran to make it to my first class. Around twelve-thirty, I usually had an hour to grab some lunch and just be a normal college student instead of an athlete. After lunch, depending on the day, I either had another class or went straight to get in my second workout in the weight room. After that came three hours of practice, which sometimes went an extra hour or so. After a thirty-minute break that included a smoothie and a sandwich, I’d found myself in the library trying to finish an assignment that was due the next day. On my way over there, the busy day starting to slow me down, I had texted my girlfriend, Victoria, to see what the plan was for the night. Before I knew it, three hours had passed, and I still hadn’t heard back from her.
I shared a house a few minutes away from campus with four of my teammates: Kyle, Maxwell, Benji, and Rip. If they hadn’t decided to throw a last-minute party for Maxwell’s birthday, I could’ve spent my night in peace in my room with Vicky, maybe watch some Netflix and fuck around in bed. After a long day of getting ready for the season, that was usually all the energy I had left in me. But, knowing that wasn’t possible, I decided to check out Vicky’s dorm room first to see if we could avoid the party altogether and chill in there instead, even though I knew it would mean she’d be pissed at me.
Unlike me, she always had an abundance of energy and time for parties, but I also knew how to convince her to stay in. As much as she loved drinking and dancing, she loved what I could do to her body even more.
We’d been dating for five months. Two months of that we’d spent apart, FaceTiming and texting non-stop over summer break, and everything seemed to be going well. She didn’t mind that I had
to spend most of my time out on the field or in the gym because her own time was filled with classes, sorority meetings, and an internship. She was supportive, caring, and, well, truth be told, she had been completely unplanned.
My original plan had always been that I wasn’t going to date during my last year.
Focus on the game.
Sharpen your skills.
Be the best on the field.
Make the time to study.
Those were just a few of the things on my priority list, and a girlfriend wasn’t one of them. My plate was already full—actually, it was more than full; it was overflowing. With all I had going on—and I had a lot going on—I just didn’t have enough time left in the day to handle that kind of commitment. Eventually, despite my busy schedule, Vicky had managed to wiggle her way into my life, and to my complete surprise, I liked having her there. Seeing her after a long, tiring day wasn’t the hardest thing, and as far as I knew, she liked being with me even more.
In the past, when I was late for one of our dates because practice ran long or couldn’t go to a party because I had to sit my ass down and study, she never complained. She gave me calm (not always) and balance (again, not always), and I tried to give her whatever I had left to give of myself at the end of the day. To be fair, that might not sound like a lot, but she always told me I was more than enough, always said I made her happy and she couldn’t imagine being with someone else. I believed her—why wouldn’t I? She definitely didn’t mind having a boyfriend who was expected to be drafted in the top twenty, and I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t enjoy seeing her face light up with excitement and joy whenever the media talked about me. I wasn’t exactly planning on asking her if she wanted to come with me if I did indeed manage to get drafted at the end of the year, but she had hinted rather heavily a few times that she was game to travel wherever after graduation. So, I was thinking maybe if things kept going the way they were, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to ask her.
After talking to Vicky’s roommate and learning that she’d actually left for the party—hoping to find me there, I assumed—I finally left campus, mentally trying to prepare myself for the mess that was waiting for me at the house.
Surprisingly, the house didn’t seem to be as crowded as I’d feared. Instead of inviting the whole school, they just had the entire team packed into our three-story house. It was the team, the girlfriends of those players who had one, and just to balance everything out, some of the cheerleaders. So, it was still a madhouse, but on a smaller scale. I would have bet the only reason they were keeping it relatively small was their fear of Coach hearing about it.
I found JP trying to sweet-talk his way into a girl’s pants in the kitchen. “Have you seen Vicky around?” I asked as soon as I was close enough.
“Not yet. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Where’ve you been, man? You missed the Madden tournament.” Before I could escape, he slapped his hand on my back. “Meet Leila before you disappear somewhere. She is the girl of my dreams. Girl of my dreams, meet my main man.”
I shook my head and watched the girl giggle into her red cup. “Hello, Dylan.”
JP pulled her back against his front and rounded his arm around her collarbone. He leaned down, ran his nose against her neck. “Let me have a taste. Then you can tell me all about what you’re planning to do to me.” Absentmindedly handing me her plastic cup, he proceeded to attack her lips with enthusiasm.
Leaving them alone, I checked out the living room, picking my way through couples making out in the hallway, then went down to the basement where things were moving a bit faster, and finally headed out to the backyard. She was nowhere to be found, so I sent her another text as I headed over to Chris and a few of the other guys before I went back in the house.
“Chris? Have you seen Vicky around? She’s supposed to be here, but I can’t seem to find her.”
“I just got here a few minutes ago. Have you checked inside?”
I sighed. “Yeah, not there. Didn’t see you at practice today—everything all right?” I asked when the other guys started to argue about the upcoming game.
“Yeah, I was in the weight room, left before you guys were done.” He saw the look on my face and continued, “Don’t ask. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Chris was one of my closest friends. “Coach?” I was guessing it was another argument. Chris was the son of Mark Wilson, one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time and our coach. They argued—all the time. You’d think with his dad as the head coach, he’d have things easier, but no. Chris worked just as hard as the rest of us, if not harder. We spent long, extra hours practicing together, perfecting our game.
He let out a long breath. “Yeah. We’ll talk later, okay? It’s been a long day, so I’m gonna call it a night and head home. I don’t want him on my ass. I’ll find you tomorrow.”
Before I could ask anything else, he said his goodbyes to our small group and left.
I checked my phone again: nothing from Vicky. Thinking maybe she wasn’t getting the texts, I tried calling her a few times, but she never answered.
Starting to get worried, I excused myself and slowly made my way upstairs. My room was at the very end of the hallway on the second floor, and because the party had been a last-minute deal, I hadn’t locked it before I’d left that morning. As I passed the first door next to the staircase, my steps faltered. The second and third floor were always a no-go when the guys threw parties. If I hadn’t known Kyle—our best tight end—for as long as I had, I would’ve barged in and kicked everyone out. But, this was Kyle.
If the sounds coming through his door were anything to go by, it was more than likely that there was an orgy going on in there, and he was most definitely the star of that show. Which didn’t bode well for my room. An eyeful of multiple naked bodies would teach me to lock my door next time. Hesitating in front of my door, I listened for any suspicious sounds. When I couldn’t hear anything, I opened it and was relieved to find that no one had made it that far yet.
The bad news was that Vicky wasn’t in there either. I called her again; no answer.
I tried her roommate, and she answered on the second ring.
“Dylan?”
“Jessie, Vicky isn’t at my house. Has she come back there?”
“No. I told you, she said she was going to meet you at your place.”
I sat down on the edge of my bed and rubbed my temple. Just because they weren’t blasting the house with music didn’t mean people weren’t being loud to make up for it.
“She isn’t here. She knew I was planning on studying in the library after practice, so why would she even come here to look for me?”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Dylan. We had a sorority meeting at eight and after that was over, she changed and said she was heading out to your place. That’s all I know. She probably has her phone on silent. Try again.”
I got up and started pacing back and forth in the confines of my small room.
“Look, I’ve tried ten times already and she isn’t answering. It’s not like her to ignore my texts, or any text for that matter. You know better than I do that her phone is always glued to her hand. I’m starting to get worried here.”
Jessie’s long sigh reached my ears. I could picture her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line, which was basically her default when she interacted with people for longer than a minute. “Do you want me to call one of the girls and see if she doubled back there instead?”
“I’d appreciate that, Jessie.”
Without saying anything else, she hung up on me. Even though the shower was calling my name, I was still worried enough that I decided to check the house again and maybe ask a few more guys if they’d seen her around. If she’d made it to the party, someone must have seen her, and if not, I was ready to go out and search for her.
As I was passing Kyle’s room, I noticed that the orgy was winding down, the moans and grunts quieter now. I tried th
e door and it opened.
Since I had no idea who was in there with him, I kept my eyes on the floor when I asked, “Hey Kyle, did you see Vicky downstairs tonight? Her roommate said she came here.”
Even though I’d heard Kyle murmuring to someone just seconds before I opened the door, the sudden silence that came with my question had me looking up.
The last thing I remembered seeing was Vicky…in the middle of the bed…between a pair of dicks—Maxwell’s and Kyle’s, to be specific—on her hands and knees. I’m sure you get the picture I was staring at.
I remember Vicky screaming at us to stop. I also vaguely remember Maxwell trying to give me explanations. I must have skipped minutes in between because the next thing I knew JP and Benjamin—our right guard—were hauling me off of Kyle.
Breathing with difficulty, I tried my best to throw them off, but they weren’t budging. “It’s okay. It’s okay and done with. Settle down!” JP shouted in my face as he held my head in his hands and tried to catch my eyes. Benji, a mountain of a man and another one of my close friends, was holding my arms at my back as he tried to shuffle us out of the room. Even if I could have gotten JP out of the way, there was no way I could shake Benji. JP was still pushing on my shoulders to stop me from going after Kyle. “We’re just gonna get some air, okay, Dylan? Take it easy, man. It’s not worth risking your future. Keep it locked down.”
Before they could pull me out, I glanced around the room. Maxwell was holding his bloody nose but otherwise was fine from what I could see. At some point, he must have put his dick back into his pants after pulling it out of Victoria’s mouth, but the buttons of his jeans were hanging open, and he was still shirtless. Kyle…Kyle was naked and squirming on the ground, the room now filled with a different kind of a moaning.
Victoria, my loving girlfriend…she was still kneeling on the bed, eyes big and scared, chest heaving as she clutched a jersey to her body to cover herself. Number twelve—she was holding my number…my jersey. She was letting them fuck her while wearing my number.