by Gia Riley
Since my parents’ divorce, I’ve been dreading leaving her all alone. She’s been low and agitated trying to piece back together the shambled mess that is her life. At least at my old school I was only a short fifteen minute drive away should she need me. The five hours that now separates us will take a while to get comfortable with. Guilt is the only word I can use to describe my new found freedom.
Dying of thirst, I realize I left my case of water in the car, but what’s one more trip at this point. The elevators are all packed with students moving in, so I take the stairs. I round the first flight and stop dead in my tracks on the landing. A gorgeously tanned male body is stretched out on the concrete staircase sans shirt. Careful not to disturb the resting hunk, I scoot as far to the right as I can and tip-toe around him. Two steps down and his hand shoots out to grab my ankle. I scream and hold on tightly to the paint-chipped railing before I lose my balance.
“Shit! I’m sorry, Sophie. I thought you were someone else.”
I release my death grip on the railing, restoring blood flow to my white knuckles. “You’re making my day far too interesting, whoever you are.”
“I swear I’m not usually this big of an ass.”
“I’ll take your word for it. The day’s only half over though. For your safety and mine, can we not meet like this again?” I hop down two stairs and freeze. “How did you know my name?”
“It’s on your door.”
“What are you the welcoming committee?” I jokingly ask with my hands placed on my waist; my hip cocked to the side.
His smile lights up his face when he realizes I’m not upset with him. “I guess I am the welcoming committee. A hazard or perk depending how you look it.”
“Definitely a hazard, so far. You don’t strike me as the welcome wagon type though. Not with all of that going on.” I gesture towards his sweat glistening torso and chiseled chest that’s covered in a few intricate tattoos.
“Then you don’t know me at all,” he says as he crosses his arms over his chest making his biceps bulge even more. Jesus, someone find this kid a shirt so I don’t drool. I don’t do underclassmen or boyfriends.
Quickly diverting my eyes, I play it cool. “You’re absolutely right. What do I know?”
He laughs and shakes his head, “You’re different. I dig that.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” I murmur, mostly to myself but don’t care if he hears me either way.
“So what’s your story, Sophie?”
“I don’t have that kind of time.” And I never will. I start down the rest of the steps and as I pull open the rec room door at the bottom, I hear his voice bounce around the small stairwell, echoing off the brick walls, “See you soon, Sophie.”
I don’t doubt that.
BY LATE AFTERNOON, I’M COMPLETELY exhausted. Between the long drive and unpacking, I’m in need of a shower and a nap. My roommate is still nowhere to be found so I grab my shower caddy, flip flops, and towel. I’m a little nervous about testing out the communal showers. It’s always a toss-up about what you’ll find on the other side of the plastic curtains. Considering it’s the first day on campus, this is as good as it’s going to get.
There’s only one open, so I don’t waste any time hopping inside. It feels incredible to wash the sweat off my warm skin. I’d stay in here longer if there weren’t others lining up to do the same. As I come to terms with shorter showers, I wrap my hair and body in my fluffy pink towels and flip flop my way down the hall, leaving a puddle in my wake.
Just as I put my hand on the door knob to my room, it swings open sending a rush of chilly air with it. My face immediately heats, yet my body shivers. Standing in front of me is an absolutely mouth-watering specimen. I openly gawk, words failing me when I need them most. Guys don’t come this built and sinfully sexy where I come from.
“Kippy, move! Let her in!”
He moves back, and watches me enter my room. This is my space, but it seems as if I’m the intruder.
“Cara, I’m going to get the last few boxes. You good?”
“Yeah, thanks. Scoot, she needs to change. Knock when you come back.”
“I will.” He looks down at me and I pull my towel tighter around my body. Suddenly it isn’t enough of a barrier from his wandering eyes. “Lucky towel.” He gives me a scorching smile and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Cara runs over to me and throws her arms around my damp body, hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Sophie!”
She finally lets go and air begins to travel back to my lungs. “Who was that guy?”
“Don’t mind him. He won’t be here long.” I don’t mind at all.
“He’s your boyfriend?” I ask, while hurrying to my closet to get dressed. I hop around on one foot, trying to get my leg into my underwear while still holding a towel around me. I’m not self-conscious of my body considering I’m usually in a leotard, but it’s going to take some time to get adapted to this small space and its lack of privacy.
“No, that’s my brother. He lives off campus. I’m very single and ready to mingle. You?”
Brother. No shit. At least I won’t have to worry about running into that major distraction on a daily basis. I wonder if all the guys in Alabama are good-looking. The first two I cross paths with have me actually contemplating dating—and I don’t date. Ever. “Single and not looking to mingle,” I reply.
“Why the hell not? It’s college, Sophie. You only get to do this once.”
“My schedule doesn’t leave time for dating. I have to stay focused, or I’ll lose my spot on the team.”
“When does practice start?” she asks.
“First thing in the morning, why?” I’m finally dressed and can hang up my towels to dry.
“Then tonight you’re all mine! We’re going out to find us some cowboys!” She’s beaming with excitement and bouncing up and down. Her excitement is so contagious; I almost start jumping along with her.
“I’m not sure cowboys are my type, Cara.” I laugh at the look of shock on her face. Apparently, I need to enroll in Cowboy 101 first thing in the morning.
“Sophie, this is Alabama. You aren’t going to find much else, but tell me what you want and we can make it happen.”
Even though I don’t date, I’m not dead. There are a few qualities I’d want my man to have if I ever decide to have one again. “I still don’t have time to date so it doesn’t matter, but I guess a southern gentleman who enjoys physical things.”
“What guy doesn’t like sex?” She looks truly perplexed by my request.
“Not sex, Cara. Sports.” She has a one track mind. Sex and boys.
“Oh. Well that can be arranged. So, a country jock then? It’s totally doable. But no meatheads.” She points to her temple. “There has to be something between the ears or you’ll get bored.”
“Okay. A jock with brains it is.” See, I’m easy to live with. Already compromising with my new roommate on the first day of living together.
“I knew you had it in you, Sophie.”
Now that we have my man preference squared away, we start rearranging the furniture into the perfect formation that has Cara as far away from the window as possible so she can sleep in. Since I’m up for practice before the birds and exhausted at the end of the night, I’m fine sleeping wherever my body falls.
The loud bang against our door has both Cara and I jumping in surprise. I forgot to open it back up when I finished getting changed. Rushing over, I pull the door open for Cara’s brother. “Sorry, here let me help you with some of that.” I take a few shopping bags dangling from his index finger. When I pull them off, I can’t help but notice his strong forearms straining under the weight of the boxes he’s carrying.
“Can I come in? This is heavy,” he asks, while I continue ogling his arms.
“Sorry.” I quickly step aside and let him in the room. He drops the boxes in the middle of the room with a thud. B
efore I can guide him to his sister’s side of the room, he flops down on my bed of all places. He’s exhausted, so I keep my mouth shut.
“Is that the last of it, Kip?” Cara saunters over to the pile of boxes and starts pulling items out while I’m still stuck in my spot next to the door unsure of where I should look let alone sit. With him sprawled out on my mattress my thoughts are quickly headed to dirty places.
“Yeah. That’s it. It’s too damn hot for this shit,” he grumbles.
Shyly, I open our mini-fridge and take out a cold bottle of water. “Um, here.” I push the bottle out in front of me, waiting for him to take it. He’s seen me in a towel and I don’t even know his real name. Cara has called him both Kippy and Kip, but they’re obviously nicknames.
He lazily opens his eyes and accepts the water with a smile. “Thanks.”
I turn away from him quickly. It makes me too nervous to look directly into his eyes. “You’re welcome.” I start busying myself re-organizing the books, folders and office products on my desk shelf to avoid any awkward conversation. When I can’t fake unpacking any longer, I sit down on my desk chair, glancing at him quickly before turning my attention back to Cara. Watching her unpack, I pray she starts rambling as she does best. The silence is stifling.
From my peripheral vision, I notice him shifting his head on my pillow. His eyes are burning a hole into the side of my head as the seconds tick by. Not able to remain silent anymore, I open my mouth. “What?” I question.
“Nothing. I’m wondering what your name is though,” he says with a cocky grin on his face. He’s enjoying my uneasiness.
“Oh. It’s Sophie.”
He smiles, giving nothing away in return. “I knew it’d be something sweet.”
“It’s on the door.” It’s on the door? How lame can I possibly be? The welcome signs on the doors are cute, but feel more like a nametag you’d see on your desk in elementary school.
“I saw it, but I wanted to hear you say it.”
Oh. “What’s yours?” Could this be any more embarrassing of a conversation?
Cara drops her pile of clothes. “I’m so sorry. I totally dropped the ball on the introductions, didn’t I? Sophie this is my brother, Kipton. Kipton, my awesome roomie, Sophie.”
“Better late than never, Cara,” Kipton jokes. “We were getting there on our own though.”
I blush at his words. Yeah, it’s a damn good thing he lives off campus. I can usually hold my own with guys, having had to protect myself for years while my mom was working all kinds of crazy hours. Despite that, the unfamiliar tickles in my stomach combined with the sudden inability to process a rational thought is foreign to me. If it was socially acceptable to climb inside my closet right now I would.
“What’s your major, Sophie?” Kipton asks. He crosses his arms underneath his head and the movement causes his shirt to ride up the slightest bit. It’s far enough to showcase some seriously toned abs. One peek wasn’t enough, so I chance another glance. He catches me.
“Um. Kinesiology. I want to be a coach and an athletic trainer eventually.” I fiddle with the frayed edge of my denim shorts, again not looking at him while I’m speaking. His eyes are on me, though. My pulse is well aware.
“No shit. A chick into sports instead of shopping. It’s about damn time.”
“Kippy, play nice. There’s nothing wrong with shopping. I’m very good at it,” Cara says sarcastically. From the piles of clothing she’s putting away, I’d say she’s an expert. With my limited budget, I typically buy a few pieces and then mix and match to make as many outfits as possible. I’d like to consider myself a fashion chameleon, camouflaging my wardrobe to fit my mood.
“You’re a pro, Cara. I’ve seen you in action.”
I laugh at his honesty. They have a dynamic I’d love to have with a sibling. Being an only child can be very lonely. While my friends always complained about their brothers picking on them, I’d always wished I had someone to connect with besides my mom.
“So what do you want to coach?” he asks.
He’s staring at me again and it’s hard to focus with his gorgeous body on display. When I wrap my blankets around me tonight, it’ll be hard not to picture him exactly as he is right now. “Huh?”
“Coach. You said a trainer and a coach.”
“I want to run my own gym someday. I’m a gymnast.”
Kipton closes his eyes and moans, “Jesus. You’re getting hotter and hotter. Keep talking.”
I laugh and see him smiling. He’s looking up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head, waiting for me to continue explaining. But I want to be lying next to him—my bed never looked as inviting as it does in this moment.
“Sophie, he’s a wrestler. You’re speaking his language right now. He spends a lot of time working out too,” Cara chimes in.
“A real wrestler or a fake one?” I scrunch my nose at the thought of him standing in a ring pretending to be a testosterone fueled maniac. I understand it’s a production and its purpose is for entertainment and shock value, but it’s not the same.
Kipton sits up quickly; resting his weight on his forearms and asks, “What do you mean a fake one?”
“On TV. The guys who dress up in crazy costumes and fly around the ring.” I definitely have his attention now.
“You don’t enjoy that?” he questions.
I’m afraid of offending him, but it’s too late to cover my tracks. Instead, I answer honestly. “Not so much. It’s not what collegiate wrestling’s all about, so I can’t really compare the two.”
“That’s for damn sure.” He shakes his head back and forth with a dazed expression on his face. “Where the hell did you come from, Sophie?”
“Um. Ashland?”
Before Kipton can respond, Cara chimes in again. “Sophie, he’s just happy you’re on the same page as he is as far as the sport goes. He hates that shit on TV. Plus, you’re into sports. Looks like I’ve hit the roommate jackpot.”
Kipton sits up slowly, his eyes never leaving mine each inch he moves. Although it makes me self-conscious and nervous, a part of me likes it. His love of wrestling explains why his body is absolute perfection. Between his muscular shoulders and stocky build, my eyes have trouble deciding where they want to look first. And his eyes, the most crystal clear blue I’ve ever seen—the perfect complement to his brown hair and exactly what I was referring to in my earlier description of my dream guy. Not to mention wrestlers are tough and sexy as hell. That’s reason enough for the attraction.
“I gotta get going, Cara, but call me if you need anything, okay? I’m not far.” He turns his head in my direction. “That goes for you too, okay?”
I’m too surprised to say anything so I nod my head in agreement. I want to tell him I’m not usually this tongue-tied, but of course those words won’t come out of my mouth either.
“Thanks, Kippy. We’ll be good. Promise.”
“You better be.” He turns to leave but stops. “I almost forgot, the wrestling house is having a party tomorrow night. You both should come.”
Before I have a chance to process the invitation, Cara starts jumping up and down. “I’m allowed to come? Sophie you’re already my good luck charm. He wouldn’t let me within a mile of the wrestling house last year!”
Kipton rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. “Cara, you’re being dramatic. But there wasn’t a chance in hell I was letting my little sister near the house. You’re too innocent for that fresh meat shit they pull.”
Cara shoots him the evil eye and I have no choice but to laugh. She stands up taller and raises her chin as she makes her point. “I’m a mature woman, Kippy. I’ve had sex.” It’s probably not the best point to make with your older brother.
“Cara, really? I don’t want to hear about my baby sister doing that shit.” He runs his hands over his face in frustration, most likely trying to erase the toxic words from his memory. I can’t say I blame him. Some things are better left unsaid.
But Cara
shrugs her shoulders and continues to fold her clothing as if it’s common knowledge. “I’m being honest. I’ve done it. It is what it is, Kippy. In fact, I plan to do it again in the near future.” She sticks her head out of the closet and giggles while she watches her brother cringe.
Growling, Kipton looks like he’s two seconds away from passing out or going postal. My vote is for the latter. “Don’t make me regret this, Cara. I know you want to go out so I’d rather you do it somewhere I’ll be. At least that way I can keep an eye on you and make sure no assholes try to pull anything.”
“Please don’t tell all the guys I’m your sister and ruin it for me,” she begs.
“Ruin what?”
“Nobody will want me if you threaten them all.”
“Cara,” he warns.
“Please, Kipton,” Cara begs again.
“She’s breaking out my full name, Sophie. She means business.”
I smile when he includes me in the conversation, but don’t dare put my two cents in. He plays the protector well and I’m not about to start off on the wrong foot with either of them. She doesn’t know how lucky she is to have someone watching out for her all the time. I’ve always been on my own in that department. Unless you count Mr. Owens, my pseudo grandpa, who lives next door to my mom. He once caught a boy trying to climb into my window and pelted him in the ass with a rock from the driveway.
Kipton turns to me and asks, “You’ll come to the party too?”
“I have practice early in the morning. It’s probably not a good idea.” Despite what I tell him, this is the first time I actually want to go to a party even though I’ve never had anything to drink before. I’ve spent too much time watching my dad get drunk and ruin his relationship with my mom to know the stuff isn’t anything to play around with. In fact, I’m probably the only twenty-year-old on campus who hasn’t experimented with alcohol.
Nothing good ever comes from whiskey and beer.