by Romi Hart
I looked away not wanting to continue down that line of conversation. Troy was pushy and a little conceited. He smiled at me openly looking sure of himself. I told myself again to give him a chance. Marsha pressed me enough about it that I cautioned myself to not give up on him so quickly.
I had to tell him that I was going out on a date with Jett. I scolded myself for not telling him earlier. Troy’s temper could flare without warning. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him right when he picked me up.
After our snack, as there was no way I was calling that dinner, Troy walked me home from the café. When we got to Clark Kerr, I knew that I couldn’t chicken out. I had to tell him.
“Troy, I have to tell you something,” I said as two girls I recognized living on the floor above mine walked inside our dorm building.
Before I could get the words out, Troy took both of my hands in his. He leaned down to kiss me. I pulled my hands out from his grip and pushed his chest back away from me.
“I can’t kiss you. And I’m going out with Jett tomorrow night.”
Troy’s eyes glimmered with that fury I’d seen before. He put his hands on his hips looking down and shaking his head repetitively. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t do this to me.”
I stepped back. “I’m not doing anything to you, Troy.” I crossed my arms and gripped my elbows.
He looked up. When his eyes met mine, they simmered with fire. “When I asked for a chance, I thought you were giving me a real chance. A chance without The Gun in the way.” He air quoted “The Gun” with his fingers and a mocking expression smeared on his face.
My stomach growled, and my voice was louder than I meant it to be. “I’m not about to get exclusive with anyone. You’re crazy if you thought I was down to do that. We just met!”
My louder voice must have taken Troy by surprise. His shoulders relaxed. “Okay. Then all I want is one kiss then.” He stepped closer to me.
“No,” I said firmly, stepping back. He annoyed me. I already had said no. I hugged myself tighter, wanting to just go inside.
Troy came closer putting his hands on my shoulders and trying to get me to look him in the eye. I looked past him. My annoyance was rising by the second. “I know that if you kiss me, you’ll change your mind about, Jett.”
I looked up, hoping for patience to drop out of the night sky to help me control my anger. “I said no. When I say no, it means no.” I backed up further away from him. I was ready to leave him and this conversation out in the courtyard.
“Okay. Can we go out on Saturday night? I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner. And then maybe a club in San Francisco or something. I promise I’ll make sure you don’t drink too much. I’ll watch out for you,” his voice shook as he spoke rapidly.
I shook my head as I walked to the door. “I’m going out with Jett Saturday night after the game.”
That was it. What I’d said was more than he could take. Troy exploded. His arms gesticulated wildly as he screamed, “Jett is taking you out tomorrow and Saturday night! That is not fair!” He spun around roaring, “Why does Jett get two dates in a week? Why do I only get one?”
A group of guys that lived down the hall from me walked around Troy as he stomped around fuming. I wanted to shrivel up and disappear. This was beyond embarrassing.
My anger rumbled inside my chest, but I kept my cool. “I can’t stand for you to shout at me. If you ever want to see me again, you need to learn how to control your temper, Troy. You’re a grown man.”
He stood there with his fists clenched staring at me. I walked inside leaving him stomping and spitting rage outside.
One of the guys from down the hall was in the hallway. He called down to me, “You okay?”
I smiled and waved. “I’m okay. Thanks.”
With a nod, he walked into his room. I dreaded going inside my own room. Marsha would want to know all the details. I had a terrible time, but I knew she would harangue for being too skeptical about Troy.
Why did she think he was such a great catch? Why did she think Jett was so horrible?
I felt so out of control of my life at the moment. I wondered if I’d made any good decisions lately with Troy or Jett.
I thought of Anne of Green Gables and when she said, “Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.”
In my case, my mistakes of yesterday were haunting me today. What was I doing with my life?
Jett
I pulled into the Clark Kerr parking lot, excited for my date with Laney. This was my chance to impress her and to show her who I really was. I pulled down the sun visor to snag a quick look at myself before I saw her. I tied my hair back into a man bun just for the occasion. I laughed at my reflection. When had I ever liked a girl enough that I bothered with my hair?
As I walked out of the parking lot towards Laney’s dorm building, I noticed Troy’s unmistakable red truck. I stopped myself from looking directly at it. If he was in there, ducked behind his steering wheel like a coward, it was best that he had no clue I knew he was there.
What the hell is he doing here?
I fished my phone out of my trousers’ pocket. A looming feeling sprawled inside me. I knew Brick House’s truck at Laney’s meant trouble.
Ox picked up on the first ring. “Yo! What’s up, Gun?” he bellowed into his phone.
“Dude, Brick House’s truck is here at Laney’s dorm. I need some back-up.”
Ox grunted. “That dick! What’s he doing there?”
“I don’t know, but it isn’t anything good,” I scanned the parking lot looking for him, in case he was hidden in the bushes or behind a car, ready with a tire iron to knock me out. You never knew with that dude. He was more than a loose cannon. He was an A-Bomb with no self-control.
Ox grumbled. "Me and the boys will sneak up there and tie Troy's truck axle to a tree with a rope. He won't be able to follow you."
I said with caution, “Thanks, man, but be careful. That guy is mental.”
Ox clucked his tongue. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll take care of Brick House. Good luck with the girl.”
Ending the call with Ox, I felt satisfied with the plan. I could always count on those guys.
I texted Laney that I was outside in the courtyard waiting for her. Then sat down on a concrete bench. I looked around for Troy. Where was he hiding?
Laney texted back that she’d be down in fifteen minutes. I googled on my phone for what sports analysts were saying about the game on Saturday. Sports guys could be such dicks. One guy, Aaron Vaughn, said that our team was no match for UCLA’s defensive squad.
Oh really, Aaron? Go fuck yourself.
When I saw Laney, my mouth dropped open. She looked gorgeous. I stared at her as she walked towards me. I could tell I was embarrassing her. She smiled, looked away, and giggled nervously, but I couldn’t stop watching her.
She had on a mulberry mini cocktail dress on. It wasn’t super short. The hem fell right at her fingertips. The top part of the dress was lace, covering her shoulders and dipping into a V-neck, but it wasn’t a plunging neckline. The lace met with a bustier bodice that sloped in at her waist. The skirt was full and flowing.
She looked hot, despite being tastefully covered up. There was a way to be sexy and modest. Many girls were incapable of finding that sweet spot. Laney had hit it right out of the park. “You look incredible.”
She flipped her hair back off her shoulder. “Thank you.” Her hair was down, and when she tossed her hair back, I got a whiff of her sweet flowery scent. Her full lips were a purplish-red color. I wanted to kiss them right then, but I restrained myself knowing she had already told me that she wasn’t going to kiss me. I respected that.
In the parking lot, Brick House’s car was still there, ominously in the back row. I worried that Laney would notice it and then call off the date. I knew she wasn’t interested in any more drama. If Troy popped up right now ready for a fight, I was sure that we’d get more than just Troy’s daily dramatic ant
ics. I prayed he wasn’t hiding behind one of the cars.
We walked up to my car, and Laney sucked in air with disbelief. I was on edge about Troy, so I careened around expecting the worst.
She exclaimed, “Omigod! Your car door!”
I sighed with relief. “Oh. Ya. It’s just cosmetic damage. From, you know, the other day.” I patted my crumpled door with a shrug to my shoulders.
“I guess you’re right. At least, the car still runs,” she nodded in agreement.
As she walked around to the passenger side and got in, I glimpsed across the parking lot at Troy’s truck. Damn. He wasn’t behind the wheel. No sign of him from what I could tell.
I climbed into my car and started the engine. When I pulled out of the parking lot, in my rearview mirror, I saw Troy’s head pop up from behind his steering wheel. Wow. He was in there the entire time, hiding and watching us. Creepy. And dedicated. How long had he been waiting for me to pick up Laney?
Before I made a right turn out of the lot, I saw Troy’s truck tires spinning endlessly but not going anywhere. Smoke billowed out around the truck. I could make out Troy hitting his steering wheel desperately, and I laughed out loud.
Laney smiled at me. “What’s so funny?”
I turned up the volume on the song that was playing, ‘I’m the One.’ “Oh, I just laugh when I hear this song. Who would have thought Beiber would come out with a song with Chance the Rapper?”
Laney beamed. “I love Chance the Rapper.”
“Me too. He’s awesome. Great lyricist and a man about his community,” I said as I drove away, leaving Troy literally in the dust.
I drove up to Shattuck Avenue. I could tell Laney hadn’t been to this part of town. She was quiet as she looked out the window at the passing buildings and people.
Chez Pannise is a famous world-renowned restaurant that serves a pre-fixe four-course menu. It’s one hundred dollars per person. In my senior year of high school, lots of college football recruiters would fly in and take me out to dinner to lavish restaurants. But, Chez Pannise was still my favorite restaurant on the Bay.
The atmosphere had a close intimacy. It was just the kind of place I wanted to take Laney to get to know her. The owner, Alice Waters, was a Berkeley alum and started the restaurant during the Free Speech Movement at Berkeley. The restaurant had the warm ambiance I wanted for our first date and the history behind it that I hoped Laney would appreciate.
“This place is lovely,” Laney commented, looking around.
“It’s one of my favorite places in Berkeley,” I said to her, wanting to take her hands that she delicately placed on the table into my own. I stopped myself. She said no physical contact.
“The restaurant’s owner is Alice Waters,” I informed her, eager to see if she knew who she is.
Laney interjected happily, “I looked this place up. Then looked her up. She’s a food activist, an integral supporter of the organic food movement, which is so awesome. So is my mom.”
“Your mom’s a chef?” I asked curiously.
“No. She’s a biologist who believes in providing food that’s free from herbicides and pesticides.”
“So that’s how you know so much about plants and flowers!” I exclaimed, hitting the table as if I’d figured out a secret mystery.
Laney looked out the window bashfully. “Yup. My mom went through graduate school when I was growing up. We sorta studied together. She taught me stuff she learned.”
I thought about how hard it must be for her to be so far away from her mother. It seemed she had a close relationship with her. Laney must have been an adorable, sweet little girl.
The server was a friendly woman with the focused attention of a professional server, which could be difficult to find sometimes even in the most exclusive establishments. Her dark hair was pinned back in a tight bun as she presented courses with courtesy and flourish.
My favorite course was the fennel and rocket salad with grilled Cannard Farm figs and pancetta. The pancetta with the figs was an explosion of savory and sweet while the fennel added an earthy light sweetness and crunch. Laney enjoyed it too. I saw the tasty flavors registering in her eyes as she ate.
Each course brought to us loosened Laney up more and more. She told me about her plans to work in the tech industry, possibly a startup in the Valley. “Technology is changing our world rapidly in so many ways. I want to be a part of that.” She smiled, bringing the third course, eggplant smothered in garlic-anchovy sauce, to her mouth. Her eyes closed momentarily as she savored the deliciousness. Then they sprung open. “Thank you so much for this dinner. I’ve never been to a fancy place like this before.”
“Of course. I wanted to take you somewhere special,” I said. I wanted to reach across the table and hold Laney’s hand so badly again, but I fidgeted with my napkin instead.
When the server set the dessert down in front of us, plum and strawberry sherbets with rose fruit soup, Laney’s eyes gleamed. She giggled. “This looks too beautiful to eat! I love these colors!” The dessert was a mixture of deep pinks and mauves with a swirl of rich white cream on top.
Laney was an incredible woman: strong, independent, ambitious, and fun to hang out with. A big plus: she loved food. Most girls barely ate on dates.
“I’m so happy you’re going to the game. It’s an important game too. A playoff. It means a lot that you’ll be there, cheering me on,” I said, gazing at her from across the table. She was so beautiful.
“I’m excited! Thank you for inviting me. I hope you win.” She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.
“We have to. Don’t forget I’m scoring a touchdown for you,” I added with a chuckle.
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I’m looking forward to it.” She swallowed her spoonful of sherbet then said, “Just so I know, a touchdown is when you put the ball in the hoop thing, right?” I wasn’t sure what to say. I thought she might need a lesson or two about football, but I hadn’t expected she knew so tremendously little about it. But then her mouth spread out into a wide smile. “Just kidding. I know what a touchdown is.” She laughed. “Kind of.”
I chuckled. This girl is so cool.
“You fooled me, Laney, you little minx.”
After dinner, when I walked her to her dorm building, I kept my hands to myself. I restrained myself from even holding her hand although I wanted to so badly. I said goodnight and was ready to turn to go, but she surprised me. Laney kissed me on the cheek and said, “I had a lovely time. I can’t wait for Saturday.”
I leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. Her skin was soft on my lips. “I can’t wait either.” I took a chance and cupped her chin. I had to taste her lips. She stood still and closed her eyes, so I went for it.
I kissed her. Our lips met and our tongues collided and twirled around each other. She pressed herself up against me, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her. She didn’t pull away from me, so I kept kissing her, losing myself. Her hands ran up and down my back and then along my shoulders. When our kisses became more ardent, her small hands pressed down on me. I wanted to feel her touch me without my shirt in the way. I wanted to feel her bare skin on mine.
When she finally pulled away, I yearned for more of her. She smiled shyly and walked inside. On the walk back to my car, I was overjoyed with how the night went. Laney even let me kiss her. I felt better than ever about my chances with her.
Laney
My seat for the game was incredible. I was so close to the field that Jett could actually see me. I felt so special every time he waved at me and smiled. He looked so hot in his uniform.
I never realized how violent football was. I’ve seen football games on TV, but with my seat so close to the field, I could actually hear the crunch of bodies colliding into each other. It was terrifying to watch Jett out there. I had never been so afraid of someone else getting hurt in my life.
He walked onto the field with such confidence. It was sexy. I realized for the first time ever the amou
nt of strategy football required. A football game, sports in general, had statistics that could be computed and analyzed. Decisions, or plays, could be calculated. I was fascinated.
Cal was leading most of the game, so it was enjoyable to watch without stressing over the score. After a while, I got used to Jett being on the field. The offensive line was awesome and protected him well.
With six minutes left in the game, when I was so sure Jett was safe from getting hurt, my heart plummeted. UCLA’s defensive tackle, number 97, Atkins, broke through Cal’s offensive line, charging right for Jett. Jett tumbled backward onto the ground. I could hear the loud impact of his body thudding into the turf. I clasped my hands over my mouth to prevent the scream that escaped me from being heard too loudly. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was wait.
After a few moments, Jett sprung back up to his feet. I cheered along with the rest of the Berkeley crowd. The Cal band exploded into brassy booming music. It was a vicious tackle, but Jett pulled off his helmet and gave me a thumbs up. I knew my cheeks were red from blushing as people in the stands looked over at me.
On the next play, Jett broke past the line of scrimmage. I cringed as I watched him run into the scramble. A Cal fullback nicknamed Ox blocked a UCLA cornerback 16 yards down the field. I watched Jett sprint 49 yards to the end zone.
The stands roared. It was deafening. Oski, the Cal mascot, danced a jig on the field as the band played uproariously. Jett took his helmet off again and blew me a kiss. I melted on my feet. My legs were jelly from the kiss. I had to sit down. My cheeks were actually sore from smiling so much.
The Cal Bears beat UCLA Bruins, 27 – 16. It was thrilling to be part of the cheering stands. My chest actually vibrated and shook from the music and the roaring fans. I walked back from Memorial Stadium to Clark Kerr even more excited about the after-game party than I was before. I couldn’t wait to see Jett. He’d kept his promise. He’d scored a touchdown and even blew me a kiss from the field.