by Liza James
"Benj, just tell me. If we hook you guys up, it'll clear your head for practice. This is a literal win-win." He jumps and spins around, throwing his hands over his dick and shaking his head free of the water spilling over him.
"What the fuck, Carter! Get the fuck out!" he shouts, spitting water from his lips as he speaks. But I straighten my spine and get comfortable. I have a feeling he knows I’m not going anywhere. So, he sighs in frustration and turns back around, resuming his wash and continuing to ignore me.
"I am seriously so confused why this is such a big deal." I'm wracking my mind in potential chicks Benj could be interested in, and can't think of a single person he wouldn't want me to know about. He knows I don't care if it's a past girlfriend or hook up, that shit doesn't bother me. So, why the hell would he think I wouldn't want to know—
"Wait." I start, my head suddenly slowing and spinning at the exact same time. Things start to clear, understanding taking root inside of my mind while the tiniest twinge of irritation bursts in my chest. "If you're thinking about—"
Benj turns to face me, bringing his hands up in his long black hair as he slicks it back over his head. "Carter, you know you're my best friend. But we can't talk about this."
"Bloom or Liv." I demand, standing up from the wall and stepping toward him.
"Fucking hell," he groans in frustration.
"Can you guys maybe not have a little pow wow naked in the shower?" One of the guys shouts from another stall but I ignore them, because I don't give a shit in this moment. These are my girls.
"Well, definitely not Liv, since you guys seem to have a thing going on," he finally responds, meeting my gaze head on and straightening his spine. He turns to walk out of the shower, and I give up on even taking mine because what the actual hell, this is not where I thought my head would be today.
"Jesus, fuck. Do not mention anything about Carter and my sister in my presence again." Lucas's voice yells from another stall, I barely register it because I still can't believe Benj is interested in Bloom.
"My Bloom? You're talking about my Bloom?" I say incredulously, my voice raising just a bit as I snag my things off the ground and hurry after him.
Benj scoffs as we walk back to our lockers and begin getting dressed. I'm basically dry, so I hurry into a pair of jeans and a maroon baseball T-shirt while Benj towels off. "You don't own Bloom. You do know that, right?"
The fucking audacity this dude has today. Hell, I know Benj. He's crazy. He's an amazing player on the field, and also twice as good off the fucking field. But Benj isn’t genuinely interested in any girl. He swoons, fucks, and moves on.
"Of course, I don't own her. But she's like a fucking sister to me. Sorry dude, but I know you. You don't get to treat her like one of your hook-ups." My voice is firm and final. I lean back against the lockers as Benj yanks his blue and white team hoodie over his head and then ties up his hair. His lips are pulled into a tight line across his face and I can see his shoulders are tense as he finally straightens to face me.
"I'm not a fucking idiot, Carter. Bloom isn't a hook-up. Hell, she hasn't even been with anyone before." He leans down to grab his duffle bag and throws it over his shoulder, but his words catch me off guard in a way I didn't even expect.
Of course, she's been with someone before. She's twenty-one, she's a sorority chick, and she's...Bloom.
Fuck. She's Bloom.
"Wait, what the hell did you just say?" I ask, quickly stepping beside him as we begin walking out of the locker room. We're on the opposite end of campus compared to where our houses are on Greek Row.
Benj, Lucas and me all walk to my vehicle. I drove us here after our last class for the day, and I'll drag our exhausted asses home afterwards. My lifted, white Jeep Cherokee rests in the corner of the parking lot, and I take a moment to admire my favorite rig. I’ve had her since I was sixteen, and I worked my ass off to save up the money to buy her on my own.
Without the help from my elitist parents.
I go wheeling in this Jeep, over rocks, and down wild trails. Summer trips to Moab and the dunes are absolute staples for me.
"You think I'd fuck her like that, dude? I may sleep around but I'm not ruthless with the virgins. Shit, don't disrespect me like that." He speaks so casually, as if this is information I've known for years.
But it's not.
And now my head is spiraling with so many reasons as to why I should have fucking known this.
"I am. Ruthless, I mean," Lucas adds, opening the back door and jumping inside my Jeep.
I roll my eyes at his comment. "You're lying." I look to Benj as he jumps in the passenger side door and myself in the driver's seat. But his eyes meet mine and narrow in confusion. His eyebrows pull together, and with every change in his demeanor I begin realizing that maybe he is telling the truth right now.
No way. No fucking way did I grow up with Bloom and not realize this imperative bit of information. I could have sworn her and Liv have talked about sleeping with guys countless times over the last few years.
"I'm not lying. Liv told me. And I'm actually surprised you wouldn't know this. So, shit. Maybe Liv is lying," Benj says tentatively, leaning back in the seat and stretching his long legs as far forward as they can go. He's a tall guy, and his head crouches just a bit from the top of my Jeep.
"Liv wouldn't lie about something like that," Lucas adds and I glance back to find him tapping away on his iPhone.
"You aren't asking them, right? I'll talk to Bloom myself about this shit. It isn't any of ya'lls business." Shit, I think I sound like a dick. But I don't even know how to process this information. Yeah, yeah, it's not any of my business either. I just want the best for Bloom and Liv. I've only ever wanted the best.
"Jesus Christ, man. Get off your high horse. I have no interest in talking to my little sister about whether your middle school BFF is a fucking virgin or not." Lucas doesn't even look up as he speaks, and I know he's telling the truth. He's usually the asshole out of the three of us, and he wouldn't give two shits about who the girls have been with.
I stretch out my fingers and wrap them tightly around the leather steering wheel. The Jeep roars to life and I navigate us out of the parking lot and head toward our frat house. The party is in a few hours, and I have to take a shower when we get home before heading out.
"All right, all right. I'll figure this shit out myself," I mutter, keeping my eyes on the road while Benj turns on the radio and blasts old school Blink-182.
"I don't know why you even care, you're into Liv." Benj's voice speaks quietly beside me, probably trying to keep it from Lucas. I may be wrong, but I catch the barest hint of annoyance lacing his tone.
I irritatingly glance in his direction. It isn't that I care because I'm into Bloom. She's practically my fucking sister. I care because of that reason.
"First of all, I don't actually know what's going on between Liv and I. We're best friends and I don't want to jeopardize our relationship," I reply, just as my phone begins ringing against my thigh. I stuff my hand into my pocket and pull out my iPhone, seeing Liv's name illuminate my screen.
I tap ignore. I don't know why, but I'm frustrated in this moment and I don't want to talk to either her or Bloom. "Besides, we've got new freshmen coming in and you know what that means."
"Oh shit," Benj laughs beside me.
"Gotta call the fuckin' welcome wagon," Lucas chimes in from the back seat in a mock high-pitched voice.
"Party of one, motherfuckers."
My heart is racing for some reason. It's pounding in my chest like a hummingbird, flapping its tiny and wild wings until it finally breaks free. I don't know why I feel nervous tonight. I've been a Theta Si sister for three years now. Three years we've hosted this party for the Titans. I know everyone already, my circle of friends is small, but intentionally so. I’m comfortable here.
I've known Benj for a few years now. It's not like he just recently came around. So, why am I worried about what I look like tonight?
He’s a genuine friend.
Yet, here I am, standing in front of the long narrow mirror on the back of my door in the Theta Si house. I turn to the left and then to the right, pulling my long dark hair over my shoulders and then lifting it up as if I'm tying it on top of my head.
Down. I think down is better.
The door suddenly swings open and I quickly step away from it before getting hit. "Should have known you'd be in here this quickly," I mutter as Liv shuts the door behind her and comes to stand beside me.
"Should have known you'd opt for the light wash overalls and crop top before I had the chance to pick a different outfit for you." She tilts her head in the reflection and rests it on my shoulder, her eyes dropping over my body and then back up to my gaze before she stands straight again.
"I love these overalls," I remind her, appreciating the way they're ripped up my legs. Clay and paint are stained across them as well—not a surprise—and I feel like it adds to the entire feel of them. I layered a black, long sleeved crop top underneath and paired the entire thing with several gold necklaces at my throat. I love chokers and pairing a gold chain with a longer pendant is usually my go-to look.
I glance down to my feet and bend over, cuffing the bottoms of my denim and showing off my bright red chucks a bit more. I stand back up and rake my fingers through my hair again, smiling in the mirror at my completed outfit. "Dude, I love this honestly. I look good as hell."
I look back in the mirror at Liv's reflection, her face is flat with disapproval while she dons a tight black dress and white denim jacket. But when her eyes meet mine again, we both know what's coming. I can feel the laughter building in my stomach and working up my chest in mere moments. It's in that instant when we both break out giggling at the exact same time, finding humor in the ways we're so incredibly different.
My make-up is minimal, a little foundation, concealer, brows and mascara. I winged my eyeliner for something a little extra, but I left out any wild eyeshadow. Liv is flawless with her face fully done, something she genuinely loves doing—her makeup. She's always trying something new, and tonight is no exception.
Liv steps up behind me and wraps both of her arms around my shoulders. I entwine my fingers through hers as we watch our reflection ahead of us. I love her, and our friendship with Carter, but I know she's been feeling something different lately.
"Tell me what's going on with you and Carter," I ask quietly, hoping she'll open up about what’s happening inside of her head.
But she rolls her eyes and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. "Absolutely nothing, Bloom. I promise. Lucas would kill me if I hooked up with his best friend, let alone ours."
She steps away and moves toward the bedroom door, pulling it open as the loud bass of music thumps through the space around us. Hell, I can practically feel it vibrating through the floors. The party is clearly in full swing already.
I start walking toward her when my phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I quickly look to see who could be calling at 10:37 p.m.
Dad.
My heart stills as the name rolls across my screen in continuous succession. Why is he calling this late? Is something wrong? Is he hurt?
I shift to answer it, but Liv's hand wraps around my wrist before I do.
"You know why he's calling, Bloom." She whispers, her eyes meet mine in washes of sadness. She knows my dad. She's known him for years now.
"But what if he needs me?" I ask quietly, feeling the tears brim my lashes as I fight to pull them back.
"He doesn't. Not like you would want him to need you." I know she's right, but the pain of knowing my dad is only calling me because he's drunk and needing an abusive release is almost as bad as dealing with the verbal abuse itself.
I want to answer.
But I know what I truly want is a relationship with him. Something pure and positive.
I feel the phone vibrating against my palm when I tightly squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to ignore the call with each passing moment.
"If you truly want to answer, you can. And I'll be here with you while you deal with him," she adds, just as the phone rings for a second time. I know she's telling the truth. She'll stay and support me and hold my hand while he yells on the other line.
I don't want to deal with this tonight though. I want to have fun and let go. I want to talk to Benj and see Carter. It's a big night for the guys, and I want to support them like they've always supported me.
Finally, the buzzing stops, and I slide the phone back into my pocket. I open my eyes again and meet Liv's. She smiles sweetly and pulls me against her in an embrace before drawing back. She brushes her thumb underneath my eyes, catching a stray tear on her own touch. Not so strangely, she sucks her thumb into her mouth, licking it away before laughing. "Make a wish, flower girl."
"That's kind of gross, you know." I laugh at our old tradition. We started it when we were kids, when my dad first began drinking and my parent's marriage was falling apart. It became something Carter, Liv and I did whenever we were upset. If one of us cried, we caught the tears and tasted the other's pain, and then we turned it into something good by making a wish on it.
I wish my dad would stop drinking.
After so many years you'd think he would have figured it out. But that's not the path of an addict, and he'll have to choose sobriety for himself at some point.
"It's tradition. It doesn't matter if it's gross. And you're not allowed to stop, so get that idea out of your head right now. Or I'll make Carter cry and then you'll have to lick his tears." She steps back and lifts her eyebrows at me, as if she's threatening something dire.
"Carter doesn’t cry," I carelessly reply. But the second I say it, a vague memory flashes in my mind. One of the Carter when he was eleven and I was ten. When we were hiding away from my family, from my dad, after his drunken fit.
I was sobbing, my entire frame shaking while he held on to me. My dad had hit my mom, and I remember never feeling a fear like I had in that moment. When I looked at Carter, I saw tears in his eyes. Glassy, bright blues stared back at me with so much compassion it broke through my fear and enveloped me in his peace.
Carter and I bonded over those moments all those years ago. He was there every time I lost my dad to addiction. But hell, I haven't seen him cry ever since.
The familiar pains of anger and resentment burn in my stomach and spiral through my limbs. My head throbs, the recognizable reminders that I have to stop thinking about this before I'm sick. When I focus on our past, the ways my father used to be before becoming an alcoholic—it makes me nauseous.
"Come on, I'm sure the guys are waiting for us." Liv grips my hand in hers and tugs me along, pulling me from my quickly declining thoughts and attitude. I'm thankful for her, and our friends here at Burnhardt. This party is going to be amazing, and even though I don't drink, I know Liv and Carter will make up for my loss by far.
I'll be the babysitter, and while that usually sounds like a pain, it isn't with those two. They make everything brighter, and maybe I'll get to know Benj a bit better as well. So, I follow her into the hallway where the music blasts around us and the space is already crowded with countless students.
Everyone is holding red solo cups, some are vaping in the midst of conversations while we weave through the crowd. The sisters decorated the house tonight in Titan colors—blue and white. Streamers are wrapped around the bannisters and hundreds of balloons were blown up for this event. The ceiling is thoroughly covered in every inch with those shades, and black lights were brought in to brighten things even further.
The walls are illuminated in purple and blue and the light denim of my overalls shines brightly against everything else. Liv's jacket is practically neon, and her blonde hair glows under the lights as well.
She's tugging me down the staircase, and several students step out of our way when they see us coming. We're Theta Si Sisters, and we hold an air of popularity no matter what we look like or what we major in. B
eing a Theta Si is an honor and responsibility all on its own.
Liv literally breathes our sorority house. She's the Vice President, and a perfect example of what a sister should be. She has straight A's. She's beautiful, fashionable, compassionate, and funny. Her skeletons are hidden far away in her closet and even if they were to escape, she'd find some way to handle it gracefully.
We walk through the living room, moving through countless bodies grinding and dancing against each other with the music. Beer is recklessly sloshing over the sides of various cups and I'm already counting the ways we'll have to clean up this mess tomorrow. But it'll be worth it tonight, honestly. The release, the letting go of stress and worries. My anxiety could use this night and I can't wait to finally have fun.
God, I feel like I hardly know what those words mean anymore. My mind is constantly wrapped around my studies in art, my pottery, work, or my dad. My mom is usually busy, traveling the world with her current boyfriend while checking in on me sporadically. I don't mind it though, she paid her dues in the years she spent with my dad.
Before I even realize what's happening, long and powerful arms wrap tightly around my waist and yank me backwards. I'm suddenly pressed against a hard, broad chest and while my heart naturally pounds against my ribs at the thought of some rando grabbing me at a party, it's the scent that quickly calms my nerves.
Woods. Fire. Smoke. Gasoline.
"Carter!" I shout, wrapping my fingers tightly around his forearms before he finally places me back on the ground. I turn around in his hold and meet his eyes with a smile pulling wide over my lips.
Blue. But they change, sometimes they're a bit green or hazel in different light. And his light brown hair is always speckled with reds and darker browns as well. He's been wearing a new haircut lately, shaved close on the sides and long on top. It's usually slicked back, but with the way his eyes are already glassy and little strands have fallen free over his forehead—I know he's a bit tipsy.