~~~
I wasn't yet ready to speak to Rihanna after her betrayal, so we walked back to the dorm in silence, except for her occasionally humming part of a song that I didn't know. She broke the silence once we got to the room.
"Why are you being so pissy?" she demanded.
"Seriously, Ri, you don't know?"
"No! Why shouldn't I give Drew the perfectly obvious clue that you like him? You do, don't you?"
"That's beside the point. It was embarrassing."
"Fuck you, bitch," she replied, her usual disagreement-ending phrase. There was absolutely nothing I could say back that would be anywhere near adequate. We were still not speaking the next day, so I got plenty of studying done and even started on my term paper for English Lit, due right after the Thanksgiving break. I was hoping to finish it before, so I'd have nothing to do over the break but play with Gracie and visit with my sisters and Charity.
Monday morning I strode into English class, determined to ignore everyone's stares and whispers. It had been a week, and they ought to be onto some other piece of juicy gossip by now. Alicia nodded at me as she sat in the desk next to mine, and I gave her a cheery smile. I had busied myself opening the textbook to today's reading when I realized that a buzz of excitement had overtaken the room. I looked up to find Justin advancing on my position, at the back of the room. I had a moment of near panic, and then steeled myself for whatever was to come.
"Ms. Nielsen, may I impose on you to sit closer to the front? It's difficult to hear your voice all the way back here when I call on you," he said. I stared at him for a moment, his warm expression belying the previous week of ignoring me. Was that all it was? He didn't call on me because he couldn't hear my responses? In a bit of a daze, I rose and followed him back up the aisle, as the whispering grew louder. When we came to an empty seat about halfway up, he gestured for me to take it, and I obeyed without question. Justin continued to the front of the room, and calmly asked the first question, resting his eyes on me as if he expected me to raise my hand.
I was aware of the weight of most of the eyes in the class, staring at me while I thought about answering. Finally, with no other takers, I raised my hand and Justin called on me. I didn't know whether my answer was on point, as I was still in a fog of wonder, but when I finished speaking, he gave me the response that I used to live for.
"Excellent answer, Ms. Nielsen. Thank you."
Gradually, the classroom settled down and others began to participate. I relaxed as well. Whatever happened after this, Justin had managed to normalize my classroom experience, and for that, I was grateful. For the first time in a week, I began to believe I'd be able to finish out the semester in this class.
When he slid into his usual seat at my table in the Student Union, I just stared at him.
"Hi, Janey," he said, as if the last week and a half had never happened.
"Hi," I answered.
"Good answer in class today," he remarked.
"Thanks," I said. "Are we going to talk about what happened?"
"What do you think happened?" he asked, as if he genuinely didn't know.
"Justin, what the hell?" I demanded, released at last from my confusion.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Lowering my voice, I leaned toward him. "You take me to dinner, fuck my brains out, and then ignore me for a week and now you want to go back to being coffee buddies?" I was particularly proud of remembering to use Rihanna’s phrase for our night of sex.
Justin's face froze. "That's a bit crude for you, isn't it Janey? I thought you had more class."
"I'm sorry that's a problem for you. I'm just not used to being treated like a…a used towel," I finished, my vocabulary inadequate for the bubble of venom that twisted my stomach.
"Janey, I never promised you anything other than dinner and a good time," he observed, sitting back calmly with a look of surprise pasted on his face.
"Well, you managed to keep that promise," I answered, the bitterness of the truth making it difficult to get the words out. "So now I'm just another notch on your belt?"
"Don't be that way. I really enjoy talking to you over coffee. Can't we still be friends?"
The gall of the man drew my inner bitch like a magnet. "Not if you were the last fucking man on earth," I declared, rising so abruptly I knocked over the chair. The last thing I saw of him was his smug smiling face. He'd gotten what he wanted from me; first sex and now my leaving him alone.
I'd been angry all day, skipped math class and only going to music because I thought I'd be able to relax while listening to the classical music we were studying. Unfortunately, the TA played Stravinsky, which left me twitchy. Maybe it was the way I slammed the door, or maybe it was because I threw my backpack on the floor and myself on the bed that made Rihanna notice right away that I was angry when I got back to the dorm that afternoon.
"What happened?" she asked. Given my mood, it was a brave thing to do.
"He wants to be friends," I said, heavy on the last word.
"Well, girlfriend, what did I tell you about dating your professor?" I sat up quickly, ready to go across the room and tear her hair out, but the truth of her words made me pause.
"You know," I said, defeated, "I could almost handle it if he just kept ignoring me. But, he made a big deal in class about moving me closer to the front so he could hear my answers, and then he stopped by for coffee…just like none of it ever happened. And he's not even sorry!" My voice had risen to a wail by the time I finished speaking. Then Rihanna came over, sat on the bed with me and leaned in for a hug.
"That stinks, Janey, but you're not the first, and you won't be the last. The only thing to do is forget it and move on. Pining over him is just gonna let him win."
I felt the corners of my mouth turn up for the first time since morning. "You're right," I said. I'd botched my first adult relationship, if you could call it that. Other girls my age had been through similar situations half a dozen times before they got to college; I just wasn't being realistic. Then I remembered Charity's warning to be careful, and that I'd be home for Thanksgiving break in three weeks, and slumped.
"What now?" Rihanna asked.
"I slept with him, Ri," I said. "I'm so ashamed of myself."
"Omigod, you're not going to go all Molly Mormon on me, are you?"
"What? What did you call me?"
"Never mind. Listen sister, this is the twenty-first century. You can't be stoned or burned at the stake or whatever for sleeping with a guy when you're not a couple. As long as you make sure you're protected, you can have sex with anyone you want for whatever reason you think is good enough. I know girls who make it a point never to sleep with a guy twice, and they get laid every weekend. Get over yourself."
"Ri," I started, my eyes wide, but she cut me off.
"No, not me. But I've had a few flings, and nothing bad has happened. Think of it as recreation, you'll be happier."
I wasn't sure I could do that, but I had to admit it would solve my current problem if I could reframe my attitude. Instead of being pathetic for having sex with a known player on the first date, I was a sophisticated woman of the world who knew what she wanted. Yeah, that was it.
Okay, it was going to take some work.
CHAPTER SIX
My sweet red CRV made the drive to the ranch through a snowstorm easy, if not fun. I called from the highway that I was almost there, and when I pulled into the parking area, I could see Janet holding Gracie up to the windowed part of the kitchen door to wave at me. Leaving my luggage in the car, I ran to them and snatched my daughter from Janet's arms for a huge hug. Grace giggled and patted my face with her chubby little hands as I darted in for kisses all over her precious face.
"I missed you, love," I said.
"Mithed you, too, mommy."
I noticed the difference even a month made in her sentence structure. If I weren't careful, I'd graduate college with a full-grown daughter I didn't know. Not for the first time,
I wondered if it wouldn't be better to have her with me, but it always came back to what was best for Grace. I knew that being cared for by a loving aunt and extended family was better than day-care, no matter how good it was. Not to mention, that a child this age would make it difficult to study. No, this was best for her, even if it broke my heart.
Thanksgiving morning dawned cold and sunny, the new layer of snow sparkling like diamonds. I bundled Gracie up in warm clothes and went for a ride on one of the older mares that could be trusted to carry us gently and not bolt. Tyler was in the barn that morning, greeting us with good cheer and offering to saddle Bessie Smith for me.
"Thanks, Ty. That would be great! How have things been since last time I was here?"
"Cody took half of the young hands over to his place to learn to train rodeo horses, and a couple of new guys came in. Otherwise, not much."
"Didn't you want to go to Cody's?" I asked.
"Naw, figured I'd stick around here and see if you turned up again," he grinned.
I grinned back. "Well, here I am, what are you going to do about it?"
"I reckon I'll invite you out here to the barn where it's warm and we can set a spell and talk, after you put your little'un to bed."
"I'd like that Ty. Consider it a date."
His grin was as wide as the barn door as he helped me into the saddle and handed Gracie up to me. "Y'all be careful, now."
My talents didn't lie in the culinary arts, so I stayed well out of the way as Janet, Charity and Amber labored to put a sumptuous Thanksgiving meal on the table. My turn would come afterward; cleaning up the kitchen after the men had devoured the feast.
Russ had declared his intention of using the theater room for football viewing, and that any hand who wished to join him was welcome, so there would also be snacks to serve later in the day. Janet wouldn't cook a separate meal, just the mid-day feast that would be served a little later than usual. These were the Thanksgiving traditions that I'd come to love in the three years since Russ brought us to the ranch.
Much later that evening, with Gracie safely stowed in her bed and asleep, I wrapped a heavy shawl around my sweater and ran out to the barn, which was warmer even than the house. Tyler was waiting for me in his holiday finery, a new pair of jeans and a red plaid shirt made of flannel. He was even wearing his dress boots, as evidenced by the lack of dung on the soles. He sprang to his feet from the bale of hay where he'd been sitting when I opened the door, came to my side, and escorted me back to the sitting area he'd fashioned from more stacked bales and a few horse blankets.
We were awkward with each other, neither knowing what to say to the other at first. Then Tyler asked about college, and I began to tell him all about campus. His eyes were shining when I wound down.
"Tyler, have you ever thought about going to college?" I asked.
"Shoot, I don't have the cash for that," he answered.
"But, if you did…would you want to go?"
"I guess so. I mean, I cain't work for Russ all my life," he said. "I want a family, and a home of my own."
"What would you study?" I pressed.
"I'm not sure. Something agricultural. Animal husbandry, maybe," he answered.
"Why don't you ask Russ to help you go?"
"Aw, Janey, I couldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"I just couldn't."
We talked for a little while longer, until he felt comfortable enough to put his arm around me. I leaned into him, which emboldened him to kiss me, and for a while longer, we kissed. They were innocent kisses, sweet and warm, the kind I'd missed by not having a normal teen life. When his lips became hungrier, I drew back.
"Ty, I'm sorry…"
"No, it's okay. Thanks for comin' out with me, Miss Janey." He'd gone back to the formal mode of address that most of the older hands used with us, and it made me sad. I knew it meant he thought that I felt I was too good for him. Nothing was further from the truth. The truth was, I wasn't good enough.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After the long weekend, during which I'd said nothing of my disastrous one-night stand with my professor, I came back to school determined to forget about him, keep my head down, study and for fun, tag along with Rihanna. Somehow, I'd just have to get through the rest of the semester in Justin's class. After he made me a spectacle a few weeks before the break, I'd been ignoring him and he'd reciprocated.
I couldn't help my visceral reaction to his looks, though. Each time he walked into class with his tousled hair and trim body clad in slacks and an open-necked button-down shirt, my stomach flipped and I'd occasionally get uncomfortably moist between my legs. I took to wearing panty liners to class to counter that.
On the first day of class after the break, I sat in my usual spot near the back, wearing comfortable jeans and a plaid shirt that I'd brought with me from the ranch. I no longer wanted to dress to attract Justin's or anyone else's attention. It was just my luck, then, that Justin did notice me among the legging and tunic-clad co-eds around me.
"Ms. Nielsen, have you been our riding horses?" he called.
When I didn't answer, he strode back to stand close to me. "I believe I asked you a question, Ms. Nielsen."
"Oh, I thought it was rhetorical," I answered, refusing to look at him.
"Not at all."
"Then, yes, as a matter of fact, I have." He stood there a moment before returning to the front of the room with no further comment. Relieved, I opened my textbook and waited for the lecture to begin. I didn't know what fun he intended to have with my choice of clothing, but apparently, my answer spiked it.
Back at the dorm that afternoon, Rihanna regarded my clothing with horror. "Tell me you didn't go to class in that," she sputtered.
"Yes, I did. Why not?" I asked.
"You look like a…like a hick," she said, gesturing at me.
"So?"
"So, I'm not gonna let any bestie of mine go around looking like that. C'mon, you need more clothes."
Before she was satisfied with my wardrobe, Rihanna had also added considerably to hers, and we were glad of the car as we returned to the dorm, laden with bags. Among our purchases were matching red sweaters to wear to the basketball games for team spirit. Rihanna grumbled that I filled mine out better than she did hers, but I knew she was teasing. Ri didn't have a jealous bone in her body, I'd learned in the weeks we'd been rooming together. She was more likely to want to match make than keep a boy to herself.
We were going to miss the next game, though, so our sweater purchase was premature. It was the first away game they'd played, and it was in Boise on Tuesday. Too far, we agreed, for us to make the trip on a weeknight.
I was really beginning to enjoy the game, and had three besides the exhibition game under my belt when we broke for Thanksgiving. I also looked forward to seeing Drew on game nights. He was just as much eye-candy as Justin was, but was safe because he was Ri's friend. I was looking forward to Saturday, when once again the team would be playing at home. It kept the week from dragging now that I wasn't enjoying my classes as much, especially English. I was barely struggling through math, fearful that I wouldn't pass it and would have to take it again since it was a requisite.
On Saturday, Rihanna and I dressed alike in our red sweaters, black wool-blend pants that clung to our legs, and knee-high boots. Red had never been my color, but Ri looked spectacular, her glossy dark hair straying across her shoulders and green eyes sparkling.
"You look like you have a hot date, Ri. Am I going to be on my own after the game?" I teased.
"We'll have to see!" she answered, her good mood showing through.
Rihanna craned her neck, searching for someone in particular, I thought, when we arrived at the Huntsman Center. As usual, our tickets were high in the stands. Not the nosebleed section, but not VIP, either. Russ's generosity would have afforded me better seats, but I didn't want Ri to stretch her budget for it. I didn't think she'd take it well if I offered to buy her ticket, either. Finally,
she saw the person she was looking for, a tall blonde boy with a wispy mustache and beard. She waved him over, and he joined us.
"Alan, this is my roommate, Janey. Janey, Alan." No further explanation about Alan's provenance was forthcoming, and then the announcer called for the tip-off and the game was in full swing.
The Utes had lost their game at Boise State on Tuesday, their first loss of the season, and they were mad. It had been a close game, which they lost at the buzzer when Boise tipped in a rebound in a tied game, winning 69-67. Our boys, and especially Drew, were out to decimate their next opponent. I watched Drew direct his team's movement, his precise passing right past the hapless Fresno State guards, and his occasional three-point shots. The way he moved gave me an unfamiliar thrill. He was poetry in motion, the game a fast-paced ballet of athleticism. I was falling in love with the game and for the most part ignoring Ri and her date, canoodling as if they were in private. Ugh.
When the final horn sounded, the score was 90-77 Utah. The fans were ecstatic, the loss of a few days before forgotten in the euphoria of the moment. We fought our way to the player's exit as usual and let Drew know we'd be waiting for him. He'd been named MVP of the game, with twenty-eight of the Ute's points to his credit, nine assists, a few steals and even a couple of rebounds despite being the shortest man on the court. Flushed with his success, Drew waved at us and made a motion as if he were tipping back a glass of some beverage. Ri nodded, and we headed to the Pancake Haus where we always congregated after a game.
A freshly showered and still glowing Drew slipped into the booth beside me a little while later. I already had his cheese fries waiting, along with sodas for the table. He half-rose to kiss Ri's cheek across the table, then plopped back into the seat, shaking the booth.
"Great game, Drew," I said. We'd seen each other weekly since the first game of the season, except for last week, and I considered him a friend now.
"Thanks, Sugar," he replied. I didn't remember when he'd started calling me Sugar, only that it had surprised me the first time. Ri said it shouldn't, that it fit perfectly because I was too sweet for words. I thought she was being sarcastic. Though he'd grown up in Ogden, Utah, Drew had a bit of a southern drawl, and the word on his lips took on an exotic flavor that tickled my fancy each time he said it. It sounded like 'Sugah'.
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