by Lynne Jaymes
“Thank you,” I say, secretly pleased she actually knows my name. It took me almost all of freshman year last year to make it into her elite dance class and staying here during the summer means I get to take classes from her where most of the other dancers at Garvin are off swimming, eating fried catfish and flying off to Hawaii. I wipe my face with the towel again, enjoying the last few breaths of cool air from the air conditioner before braving the inferno outside that is Texas in August. Even with the window unit firing at full blast, the ancient machine is no match for the heat outside and the studio is sticky and humid. I pile my hair on top of my head, securing it with one of the hundreds of elastic bands floating around in the bottom of my bag, slip my flip flops on my feet and step out into the blazing afternoon sun.
No matter what anyone says, you never get used to this kind of heat, and I feel the sweat roll down my back as I walk toward the stadium. Football practice should still be going on and I love to watch Jake work out. Truth be told, I love to watch Jake do pretty much anything, but seeing him all suited up in his tight football pants and stained practice jersey does something to my insides that nothing else can match. All last year I never missed a football game, sitting under the lights with my friends and screaming extra loud when Jake took the field, looking strong and handsome in Garvin State red and white. I can’t wait until this season starts in just a couple of weeks to do it all over again.
The campus is mostly deserted this time of year, with the rattle of cicadas only broken by the scrape of the occasional skateboard on the sidewalk, in contrast to the thousands of people who swarm these very same paths when school is in. A dark-haired guy nods as he passes me on his bike, the recognition of the group that keeps the campus running while everyone else is off having fun.
I can hear the coach’s whistle and the grunts of the guys as the shoulder pads slap together when I approach the field gate and slip through the opening. Climbing up into the stands, I pick out a couple of other spectators, mostly player’s girlfriends like me, as we dot the mostly empty stadium. I grab a seat just under the announcer’s booth and lean up against the wall, savoring as much shade as I can find while I scan the field for Jake, finally spotting him in a group by the ten yard line. With a shout and a clap, the huddle breaks and the guys kneel down in front of the quarterback, ready for the snap as he calls out the count. On his signal, everyone leaps into motion and even from way up here I can see Jake making a quick turn and racing up the field ahead of everyone else.
I watch until practice is over, texting Mom to tell her what time I’m coming home tonight. They hate it when I make the three hour trip in the dark, but I have to work at the café until six and I want to leave straight from there. Jake always takes a quick shower in the locker room, and in no time he’s bounding up the bleacher steps toward me, acting like he didn’t even have three hours of practice this morning.
“Hey, baby,” he says, sliding in next to me and grabbing me around the waist.
“Hey yourself,” I say, grinning as he nuzzles my neck. I love the solidity of him, the way his body wraps around mine when we sleep, the possessiveness I know he feels when we’re together. I waited a long time for the right one to come along and Jake is every inch of that in one hot package.
“Let’s go,” he says, standing up and putting out his hand.A true Texas gentleman, Jake is always opening doors and helping me into the car. Even though Gramps hates the fact that I’m seeing an actual boy, he grudgingly approves of Jake. Which is the reason that I didn’t tell them I moved in with him over the summer—if they found out about that, they’d kill us both.
The apartment that we sublet is only a few blocks from the stadium, and neither of us says much on the way home. I just love to look at Jake with his finely muscled arms, shaggy blond hair and the clean, sharp smell he always carries. I lean into him as we walk in the path of the trees that shade the sidewalk and he puts one strong arm around me. I relax as I match my pace to his, our feet crunching on the first dry leaves of fall in silence. Nothing has ever felt this right.
The AC hits us full force as Jake opens the door to our apartment. Our apartment. It’s still so amazing to be able to say that. This sublet is only ours until the real renters come back when school starts, but it’s been fun playing house these past couple of months. We haven’t talked about what happens then, but I’m guessing we’ll get a place together, a real place where we can buy soft cotton sheets for our big, wide, bed and fun plates to set into the kitchen cupboards. I want to pick out everything together so that our apartment will be the home that we both want to come back to at the end of the day. I never thought I’d be ready to commit to someone so soon—I always said that I didn’t want to be like Mom with a husband and a baby before she started her sophomore year, but now I get the appeal. Not that I’m going to run off and get pregnant anytime soon. I’ve got a lot to do before that happens.
I can’t help but think about it though, as Jake tosses his duffle bag on the floor and opens the fridge to find something to eat, shaking his ass to some kind of rhythm that’s only in his head. Any baby I had with Jake would be beautiful and smart and definitely athletic. Some days I can picture us with a place somewhere, three or four little blond babies running around the house, Jake riding a tractor through the field beyond the yard.
“What are you thinking about?” Jake says with a grin as he pulls out the makings of a sandwich.
“Nothing,” I say, hoping that it doesn’t show on my face. I pretend to check my messages and then put my phone down on the counter.
Jake’s phone buzzes and he glances at it, but then shuts it off. Between his big family and the guys on the team he must get a hundred texts a day.
“Who was that?”
“Mom,” he says. “She’s been on me about my classes for next semester. I can’t deal with it right now.”He opens a head of lettuce. “Can I make you something to eat?”
“No, thanks” I say. “I’m going to grab something at work before I hit the road.”
Jake makes an exaggerated pout and crosses the room, grabbing me roughly around the waist and pulling me to him. “I can’t believe you’re going away all weekend.”
“I know,” I say, tracing the outline of his chest through his shirt. I’ve gone home half a dozen times this summer, but it’s always hard to leave. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you more.”
In one quick motion he lifts me up onto the counter so that we’re eye to eye. I wrap my legs around his waist and press into him, feeling the bulge in his pants growing. I love that I still have that kind of power over him.
“How about we forget the food,” he says, grinding against me, running one hand up my thigh. “And go for something quick.”
I laugh and squeeze my thighs tighter. Nothing with Jake is ever quick. “I don’t have time.”
He utters a growling, guttural sound from his throat. “You can’t tease me like that.”
I push him away with both arms and look into his eyes. “Better to leave you with something to look forward to.”
“I don’t think I can wait two whole days,” he says, lunging for me, but I hop down onto the floor. As much as I’d like to tumble into bed with him and spend the afternoon there, I can’t afford to be late again.
“Crap. I have to go,” I say, eyeing the clock over the stove. My shift starts in fifteen minutes and the café is at least a ten minute drive from here on the other side of town.
“Don’t go,” he says, keeping my hand in his. “Quit your job and stay here with me. I’ll pay for everything.”
“Right,” I say, knowing that his football scholarship barely leaves him enough money to eat some days.
“I mean it.” Jake keeps holding my hand and looks seriously into my eyes. I can feel the moment shift between us—what was fun banter a few seconds ago now has a weight to it that I can’t deny.“I’m going to play pro ball next year and I’ll be able to take care of us both.
”
I search his clear, blue eyes, feeling my heart pound in my chest. “What are you saying?”
Jake hesitates, then picks me up and buries his face in my neck. “Just that I don’t want to lose you.”
I laugh, trying to lighten the moment. Jake didn’t ask me to marry him, but every day it feels like we’re getting closer and closer. “I’m only going to Grand Junction for the weekend. You’re not going to lose me.”
He sets me down, but his face is still serious. “I mean that. I love you Jenna.”
“I love you too.” My eyes flick to the clock—now I only have ten minutes to drive to the cafe, stow my stuff and wrap an apron around my waist. “But now I really have to go.”
“Are you coming back after work?” he asks, following me out to the living room.
“No.” I grab my backpack from beside the door. “I’m already out on the highway, so I’m just going to go to Grand Junction straight from work.”
“Drive carefully.” Jake leans down and gives me a tender, but heartfelt kiss, taking my bottom lip into his and running his fingers through my hair. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but I can’t say that I hate it.
“I will,” I say, finally disentangling myself from his hands.
“Text me when you get there.”
I grin as I open the door. He already sounds like a nervous husband. “I will,” I say again, kissing him quickly before shutting the door behind me.
For a late summer afternoon, the café is slammed when I get there and I spend the next several hours taking orders and delivering food, even bussing tables when the guys get too busy in the back.
“Behind you!” Courtney yells, a tray of desserts in her hands.
“Thanks,” I call, swirling past her with my plate of pancakes for table five. I glance at the clock and can’t believe it’s almost six already. I look up and see that my replacement is just walking through the door. After four hours of non-stop movement, I’m going to be glad for the quiet of my car on the long drive.I type the last check into the computer and feel the exhaustion creep over me.
“Jesus, that was crazy,” Courtney says, brushing her blond hair back from her eyes. “I thought all of these people were supposed to be at home enjoying their summer.”
“Yeah, but we made up for it in tips,” I say, grabbing the box where we pool our tips for each shift.
“Good thing,” Courtney says. “I just put a deposit down on an apartment on Belle Street.” She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “It’s a two-bedroom if you’re interested.”
I stop counting the bills into piles and stare at her. “You know that I’m getting a place with Jake.” At least I hope I am. After today’s display of affection, I’m almost sure of it.
She shrugs like it’s no big deal.I know that she’s never liked Jake even though she’s never given me a solid reason why. “Just sayin’ it’s there.”
“Well thank you. I expect to be invited over for a housewarming at the very least.”
“I can never turn down an excuse for a party.” She grins. Courtney is known for being able to out-drink most guys we know.
I glance at the clock. “I’ve got to go.” I fish around in my bag for my phone—Mom likes me to call when I’m on my way so that she doesn’t worry. “Crap.” I dump out the contents, but my phone isn’t there. I pat down my jeans and look in the pocket of my apron.
“What’s the matter?” Courtney asks.
“My phone. I can’t find it.”
She glances around at the back counters. “Have you used it since you got here?”
I think back. “No. I don’t think so. We’ve been so busy.”
“It’s probably in your car.”
“You’re right.” I wave goodbye and walk out into the gravel parking lot. The air in the car must still be over 100 degrees when I open the door, but a quick search tells me my phone isn’t there either. I vaguely remember having it in the kitchen when I got home with Jake. I must have left it on the counter. I slide into the driver’s seat and quickly decide I have to go back for it—it’s going to take me twenty minutes out of my way, but a whole weekend without a phone is unthinkable.
Jake’s car is still out in front of the apartment when I pull up and I smile, thinking about him having a nice, quiet Friday night in while I’m gone. I really don’t deserve him. The TV’s on when I unlock the door, but the living room’s empty as I walk in. I turn left and head into the kitchen, relief rushing through me as I spot my phone right on the counter where I left it.
I hear Jake in the bedroom and walk quietly toward the back of the apartment. I’m already twenty minutes behind schedule—maybe I should take him up on his earlier offer, after all, it is going to be a long weekend apart. I pull my t-shirt over my head so that I’m just wearing my jeans and the red lace bra that he likes. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I walk in.
The bedroom door is open a few inches so I push it all the way. It takes a few long seconds to comprehend what I’m seeing. Jake’s home all right, but he’s definitely not alone. I don’t recognize the girl who’s flat on her back with her legs against her chest and her feet in the air on the bed. Our bed. She’s naked from the waist down, and Jake has his pants around his ankles, his gorgeous sculpted ass bare to the world as he pounds into her over and over again.
I’m trying to say his name, but the only sound that comes out is a strangled cry as the girl on the bed who is at this very moment having sex with my boyfriend, looks over at me with casual curiosity. I turn and race out of the room, but I know that image is going to be with me for the rest of my life. I frantically try to find my keys so that I can get out of there.
“Jenna! Baby!” Jake calls from the bedroom, just as I find my keys on the bookcase by the door.
I’m halfway out the door when he grabs me roughly by the arm. “Wait!”
I spin around to face him, full of a combination of fury and hurt that twists from somewhere so deep down that I don’t think I’ll ever find the source. “For what? So that you can finish fucking your slut in my bed?”
“It’s not like that,” he says, but his words are somewhat marred by the fact that he’s fumbling to pull up his jeans at this very moment.
“Oh yeah? All that bullshit in the kitchen today? You couldn’t wait for me to leave.” My mind flashes on all of the text messages that he’s been getting lately. I’m betting not all of them are from guys on the football team. I wonder how many girls there are. Something tells me that Ms. Feet-in-the-Air isn’t the only one. I’ve been such an idiot.
“That’s not true!” Jake insists. His voice is steady, but I see panic in his blue eyes.
I decide to call him on it. “So what is true? Go ahead and tell me. I’m listening.”
But Jake has nothing left to say. Because there isn’t anything to say that can save us. I take one last look at Jake, standing in the doorway looking at me with confusion in his eyes. Slamming the door behind me I’m suddenly alone in the hallway, breathing heavily with my hands shaking.
I’m halfway down the stairs before I realize that I’m still wearing my jeans and the red bra.
The First Glance
I stand to the side and watch the guy in front of me at the plate—Mitch something. His locker is next to mine and he’s been pretty cool to me since unofficial practice started a few days ago. Opening dayis still months away, but Coach wanted us to get together and hit some balls and lift some weights before things really get going.
Even though we’re just messing around, I can tell that Mitch isn’t much of a hitter. I’ve seen him pitch though, and he’s got a wicked fastball, so I’m sure he’s going to be sticking around. He manages to pop a few balls into the outfield and walks off the plate with a grin.
“You’re up,” he says as he passes me in the batting circle.
“Right,” I say, setting the bat on my shoulder and walking to the plate. I pause and wipe some of the sweat out of my
eye with my sleeve. We’ve had heat waves in San Francisco before, but August in Texas is no joke.
We’ve taken some rounds in the batting cages so far but this is the first time I’ve faced a live pitcher with the Garvin State team. I can feel the dugout behind me get quiet as everyone else stops to watch and I flex my fingers in the batting gloves. The guys have been pretty cool the past few days, but I can’t say I’ve really made any friends here yet. It’s a pretty tight group and as the only new starting player on the team, I’ve got a lot to prove.
“Hey,” the catcher says with a nod of recognition.
“Hey,” I say back, trying to get a hold of my nerves. Yes, this is just practice but I can’t afford to blow this at bat. Every little thing counts as I try to find my spot on this team.
I turn to face the pitcher, this guy named Rowan that I’ve seen in action a couple of times already. He’s tall with wickedly long arms and several killer pitches. I’m glad he’s on our team and not the competition. He sets his arm and then stares past me at the signs the catcher is giving him. I know his pattern—lead with a fastball before getting fancy, so I’m ready. Keeping my eyes on him, I watch the little white ball leave his handand time it exactly right—not too early so that I’m reaching, but not so late that I miss it. I swing the bat hard, but instead of the crack of it meeting the ball that I’m expecting, there’s a thud as it lands in the catcher’s mitt.
“Rowan’s curve will get you every time,” the catcher says, smiling as he tosses the ball back to him.
Shit. The first pitch that actually counts and I whiff it. I glance down at the catcher, trying to stay cool. “That was just a practice swing.”
He squats down in position again, the pads on his legs creaking. “Maybe this time you should practice actually hitting it.”
I don’t say anything, just watch Rowan. He winds up, but instead of the fastball that should be here, it’s another curve, arcing just outside of the strike zone. I don’t look at the catcher as he throws it back to Rowan. I can tell the second the next ball heads my way that it’s the fastball I’ve been looking for. I try not to think about it too hard, just let my body take over as the bat connects with the ball and sends it soaring down the left field line. That would be at least a double in any game.