Romance: The Campus Player: A College Romance

by Caroline Lake

  “So anyway, there we were, under this tree totally out of breath—wait,” he looked around for a member of the catering staff, “didn’t I ask the for more wine?”

  “Ryan!” Cynthia exclaimed laughing, her eyes wide, “don’t be rude. I’ll get it,” she got up and headed for the kitchen, happy for the short break from the room.

  She was having a good time listening to Ryan’s stories and catching up with her parents, but it wasn’t completely comfortable for her to be back with this group. Her history with Coop aside, Glen was so on edge in front of her father. Of course, he was rarely loose or comfortable in general, but it was worse with her family. And although they said otherwise, Cynthia and Ryan’s relationships with their parents were strained.

  She loved her parent’s kitchen. It was completely white, aside from the stainless steel appliances. White tile, white marble countertops, white window trimmings around the picture window that framed the backyard. She dismissed the staff’s offerings to help and leaned into the wine refrigerator to pick out a bottle of white she thought Ryan would enjoy.

  “Can you excuse us for a second?” Cynthia froze at the sound of Coop’s voice.

  “Certainly, sir,” the waiter answered, and with a wave of his hand, they were alone. She didn’t turn around.

  “Holland,” he said quietly.

  “No,” she felt a familiar rush hearing him call her that. When they first met, she had teased him for going by his last name, like some kind of high school football player. But he was unfazed. He laughed it off and came right back at her. He said he was going to call her by her last name, which according to him was much dorkier than his. She put up a fight, but he quickly saw through her flirty protests; she loved having a special name that only he used for her. He used to whisper it in her ear. Just hearing his voice say her name jarred her as if she were struck by lightning. She closed her eyes.

  “No. You do not get to call me that,” she opened her eyes and started slamming cabinets, frantically looking for a white wine glass for Ryan.

  “I called,” he started, “I did, well you know that. I tried. But we were kids Holl--Cynthia, and with everything with my parents, I just--I just didn’t know how to handle something like that.”

  “Something like that?” She whispered, because she knew she couldn’t yell, “something like that, Coop? Say it.”

  “What?” he replied, clearly shaken.

  “Say it. Tell me what you left me with.”

  “A… you were… you know Cynthia, don’t…”

  “Say it.” Cynthia demanded, louder. She didn’t care who overheard them now. She was going to get the acknowledgement that she had waited six years for.

  “Pregnant.” He whispered, shifting his gentle green eyes away from the fire in hers.

  “A baby,” she clarified, her brown eyes squinting and her face on fire, “you left me with a baby. And no choice.”

  Cynthia remembered the moment as vividly as she saw him standing before her now. It had changed her life forever in ways she had never even thought possible. They were in the bathroom that connected to her bedroom in same house in which they stood now. Cynthia was sitting on the black marble sink counter looking at Coop, waiting for a response, but he wouldn’t lift his gaze from the pregnancy test in his hand. He had been staring blankly at it for what felt like an eternity and still hadn’t said a word.

  Prior to that moment, before his silence said more about his true feelings than he would, she had been optimistic. She thought that once he got over the initial shock, like she had, the whole situation would bring them closer. They weren’t just casually seeing each other now. They were about to become a family. Or at least that’s what she had thought.

  But now, sitting under the harsh reality of the bathroom lights, she could see exactly how naive she was. There was no way this ended with them walking down the aisle. He wouldn’t even look at her; there was no way he would smile, hold her, or tell her he loved her. Suddenly, everything had changed. Just like that, Cynthia was embarrassed of the life she had imagined for them. She did her best to say what her heart knew Coop wanted. Eyes filling with tears, she took a deep breath.

  “Yeah, well you know we can always just…” she trailed off, shaking her head and waving a hand dismissively.

  “You sure?” Coop replied, just a little too quickly, “I mean, with me being where I am now and you starting law school… you can’t pass that up dealing with this, you know? My… my parents splitting up I just, everything I think I know about family and…” He saw her crying.

  “Hey,” he reached over and tenderly touched her face. As he wiped her tears he said, “It’s not that I don’t love you, Holland. You get that, right?” It was that moment, in that bathroom with his hands holding her face, that she knew that wasn’t true.

  “I would have gone with you to have it done you know that, but you didn’t—”

  Cynthia finally found a wine glass in the cabinet and pushed her way past Coop. She wasn’t about to let him finish. There was no way she was going to allow him to shirk any of the blame and guilt he deserved for him abandoning her when she was desperate, lost, and terrified.

  She burst into the dining room, where Ryan still had everyone laughing with his story. A mixture of jealousy and sadness ripped through her chest. Cynthia wished she could be this carefree. She wished that being reunited with family and old friends meant the same thing to her that it meant to everyone else.

  “I’m not feeling well,” she said, causing the laughter to immediately die out. She slammed the wine glass and the bottle on the table.

  “Goodnight.”

  Cynthia heard her mother start to say something but didn’t break stride. She cut through the living room and left the house.

  The shock of the December air helped even her out a bit. She was thankful she hadn’t stopped for her coat. She needed to put an end to this humiliating outburst and think clearly.

  She got back to her house and sobbed, hot tears rolling down her cheeks and onto her dress. She swiped at her face, without any regard for preserving her makeup and hair. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and pulled open the top drawer of her dresser. She dug her way past her delicates until she found the tattered old gift box she was looking for. Her breath caught in her throat.

  She saw herself in the mirror above her dresser and she noticed her dress. How had she thought this was flattering? It was tight and constricting, maybe even a little tacky. Angry with herself and the dress, she pulled down the zipper and ripped it off. Dropping the box on the bed, she took a deep breath and sat cross legged next to it.

  She paused, staring at the box for just moment, gathering herself. Cynthia heard a knock, and the door creaked open.

  “Get out, Glen,” she said. Her back was to the door and she didn’t bother to turn around.

  “It’s me,” she heard Coop’s smooth voice and turned, immediately aware that a delicate black lace thong was the only thing she was wearing.

  “Wow,” he said breathlessly. Cynthia watched as his eyes slowly took in every inch of her body. She made no attempt to cover herself; she was half in shock that Coop’s brown hair and green eyes were poking themselves into her bedroom, and half glad he was seeing her naked. All the anger she had felt a moment ago started to diminish as she saw the way he looked at her.

  She could feel his gaze tenderly studying her. As he stood in the doorway taking her in, she felt her body get hot. It started in her chest and spread downward. Her hips involuntarily moved slowly on the bed, pressing her wetness into the white duvet. She longed for him to come in and do what he was so good at doing; he had always known where and how to touch her. It was like he could read her mind, but that was impossible; she didn’t even know she wanted the things he did to her until he was doing them. Being with him was different than anyone else she had encountered. Better than anyone else. She could get up and invite him in…

  Instead, she raised her eyebrows.

  �
��Oh, right. Sorry,” he closed the door until there was just a small crack left, “um, I have your coat, you left it, so.”

  Out of view, Cynthia allowed herself to smile softly at his awkwardness. It was good to know she still had it.

  “So, I’ll talk to you, okay?”

  “Bye, Coop,” the tenderness in her voice betrayed her. She didn’t want to let him off this easily, but she couldn’t help it. Even after all these years, his charm still had complete control over her. He picked up on her change in demeanor immediately.

  “I’ll see ya, Holland,” he promised as he shut the door. She could hear the smile in his voice.

  Cynthia breathed deep to calm herself. She adjusted her thong and tucked her hair back behind her ears.

  She turned her attention back towards the box in front of her; this time seeing it very differently than she had moments ago.

  Finally, after all the time she had kept this box—her secret— hidden, she felt at ease as she held it in her hands. In fact, she was almost excited to finally see what the envelope at the bottom of it contained.

  She opened it and sifted through the first few layers. Bills, receipts, a photo of her first ultrasound, with Baby Holland printed at the bottom.

  She slowed down as she got closer to what she was looking for. Pressed into the bottom of the box, where it had laid for so many years, was an envelope she had never opened. She pried it out and held it in front of her. The edges were bent and the writing had faded; it was surprising how quickly that happened. She stared at the logo.

  The Hartfield Private Adoption Agency.

  Hands shaking, she carefully tore the seal and slid the letter out. She skimmed the page. Her adrenaline stopped her eyes from being able to slow down long enough to read it all properly.

  Odessa, Texas. She quickly flipped the page over and slammed it onto the bed. Texas. That was far from here. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? She tried to control her breathing as she kept the page pinned down, as if it would try to flip itself over. She didn’t want to know anything else. Not yet. She didn’t want to know who had her or what they had named her. To her, her baby girl would always be Caroline.

  Chapter 2: The Girl Next Door

  Cynthia stirred, bringing the heavy white duvet with her. Her sleep had been restless and troubled. When she did dream, it was dark. It seemed to jump around and she couldn’t quite relax into it. She was in the delivery room watching her baby be wheeled from the room. The baby’s cries would grow fainter until she couldn’t hear them over her own.

  The room dissolved and suddenly she was in her studio apartment during her first year of law school, sitting on her bed among piles of clothes and books. Her pregnant stomach was just starting to show and she was desperately trying to find something to wear to class that would keep it concealed. The sound of her own crying was drowned out by her phone continuously ringing. It was Coop. He had called her on and off for the last few months, but she couldn’t answer.

  Then she was back to that day in her bathroom. This time, though, when Coop came in and asked her what she was doing as she sat on the black marble vanity, she didn’t hand him the positive pregnancy test. It disappeared from her hand entirely.

  “Holland?” He asked, “what are you doing in here, all alone, when you know I’m out here on this bed, waiting for you?”

  He took a few steps into the bathroom and gently held her hips.

  “And what are you going to do about it?” Cynthia replied, leaning in so her lips brushed his, then pulling away when he came closer. She kept him at bay with a hand against his chest, her fingers feeling his strength through his thin black tee shirt as he tried to kiss her. She dug her nails gently into his chest.

  “Don’t you dare come any closer, David Cooper.”

  “Or what?” He asked, playing along with the game. He smiled and his green eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Or… you’ll be sorry.” She tried to keep a straight face, but as soon as she looked into his eyes the illusion that she wanted him away from her vanished.

  “Will I?” He asked, running his strong hands through her hair. He leaned in and kissed her neck. Lightly at first, he worked his way down to her collarbone, intensity growing as he went. She squirmed and let out an involuntary moan as his lips and teeth dug into her.

  “Still want me to stay away?” He whispered.

  “No,” she said breathlessly, caught up in the moment, “please don’t.”

  Suddenly, his hands closed on her hips, and in one swift movement he lifted her off the counter and he threw her playfully over his shoulder.

  “Coop! Put me down!” She laughed, teasingly flailing around. She felt his solid body under hers as she playfully squirmed. She couldn’t have gotten away if she had wanted to. But of course, she didn’t want to.

  He slapped her ass and dropped her onto her back on the bed. Coop pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor next to him. She sat up and reached for his broad chest but he easily pushed her back onto the bed with one hand.

  “Get back down there, Holland,” his gruff voice awakened something in her. She needed him. Coop gently slid his hands underneath Cynthia’s white tee shirt and pulled it over her head. She reached up to kiss him and he wrapped his hands around her back, simultaneously lifting her closer and unclasping the hook of her bra. He moved his hands to her breasts and gently teased her nipples with his thumbs. She felt herself get wet for him.

  Cynthia sat up and slipped her fingers into the waist of his jeans, grabbing hold to pull him towards her. He laughed as he knelt on the bed, straddling her. She undid his fly and slid his pants down past his hips, revealing the strong outline of his manhood pushing against his black boxer briefs. She ran her hands up his thighs. Coop grabbed her hands and stopped her.

  “I’ll give it you, babe. Trust me. But what are you rushing for?” He whispered, smiling at her.

  Coop kissed her neck and moved downward to her chest. His lips lingered over her nipples, sending jolts of electric lust through her body. He worked his way down her stomach. Cynthia didn’t think she could take it much longer. She needed him inside of her. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back up so their lips met.

  “I want to fuck you,” she said, her forwardness surprising her.

  “Holland,” he said slowly, “you will. But not yet. I want to make you come first.”

  A small moan escaped Cynthia’s lips. Coop kissed her slowly and started to pull off her jeans. She reached down and shook her hips a bit, helping him get them off of her faster. He pushed back to the end of the bed and let out a low moan as his tongue started to explore her.

  “I love the way you taste.”

  Hearing him say that turned her on even more. She reached down and ran her hands through his thick dark hair. She arched her back as he gently kissed and sucked her, her pleasure building with each movement he made. Just when she thought she was going to lose control, he stopped.

  He stood up at the end of the bed and pulled off his black boxer briefs, showing her his huge erection. He stroked it for a moment, looking at her.

  “I need you in me,” she begged, sitting up to grab him and pull him on top of her. He straddled her and kissed her hard. She could taste herself on his lips. She reached for his shaft and rubbed it up and down a few times in her hand before guiding him to her. As he pushed inside of her, she shivered with pleasure. Coop groaned on top of her and kissed her with urgency, pressing his tongue in her mouth. She grabbed his hips and forced him further into her. He was so big that it felt as though he may split her open, but she still wanted more of him. He found a rhythm and built up intensity until Cynthia thought she was going explode. She was approaching the point of no return when he pulled away from her and disappeared to the end of the bed. She gasped involuntarily with his sudden movement and looked up to see him bury his face between her legs.

  Cynthia lost all control. She pushed her hips back and forth, grinding against his f
ace. Her pleasure built quickly. As she reached the point of no return, she gasped, squeezed her thighs, and although she tried to stile the scream that came, there was no way she could have. The gratification was just too much, it took over her entire body and made her forget everything else.

  Cynthia woke up with a start. She took a deep breath and tried to hold onto her dream as it slowly slipped away from her. She was aching for contact. She reached for Glen next to her. Still half asleep, he stirred a bit and moved closer to her.

  “Let me get up and get cleaned up a bit,” he said, awkwardly shifting to the other side of the bed and shuffling off to the bathroom.

  Cynthia knew this meant he wasn’t interested. She threw on a big, soft beige sweater over a pair of leggings and went downstairs to make herself some coffee. Glen was never in the mood to do anything. Except work. His obsession with her father’s firm made her sometimes question if that’s why he married her. A life with someone would be a lot to invest for a job, but if someone were capable of it, it was Glen.

  Cynthia looked out the window at the house across the street. It had been vacant for a while now. The guy who used to live there died after his wife left and took the kids. He was a nice guy, and the sadness of his death was intensified by the fact that no one noticed he had stopped coming and going for three weeks. Everyone on the block acted like they were a close knit, caring community. But in the aftermath of his upheaval, in his most urgent time of need, no one had bothered to check in on him for over three weeks. Eventually his ex-wife came over after he no-showed at court and found him lying on the media room floor with a steak knife lodged in his jugular. He was eating dinner in front of the TV when he got up for something and tripped. He was also packed full of painkillers.

  That was maybe six months ago. Today, the interior lights were on and a moving van was parked in front of the driveway. Cynthia picked up the phone to call her mom. No one loved neighborhood gossip more than Nancy Holland.

  “Hello dear,” Nancy answered the phone in her usual manner.