“Watch your back, Tate!” Tyler shouted at me. I was running, running as hard as I could towards the end-zone, but suddenly I was rushed. Three defensive players were on my tail rapidly, veering me off my path. I wheeled around just in time to heave the ball downfield to Tyler, my running back, who caught it flawlessly. In mere seconds the defensive players were on him instead, and Tyler was running, dodging bodies left and right. I ran, too, taking this opportunity to make my way down the field without the Falcons on my ass. Both offensive guards on our team were blocking Tyler, but he was fast approaching a cornerback on the defensive team, and we all knew he wouldn’t make it to the end zone to score the touchdown we needed to finish the game.
The students and supporters in the stands were going crazy. People were screaming and chanting, and the drill team were doing their final number as Tyler heaved the ball with everything he had in him in my direction. Someone took him down, but it was too late; he’d already passed the ball back to me.
“Go Jackson!” someone screamed from the stands, and I was almost certain it was Grace’s voice egging me on. As if on cue, a burst of newfound energy enveloped me, and I dove into the end zone, hitting the dirt and grass with excessive force as my body slid over the goal line, football in hand.
We won.
When you hear the phrase, “the crowd went wild,” it’s hard to imagine exactly how insane it is until you see it and hear it for yourself, but there it was. I was tackled by my team, cheered on, applauded. Coach was shouting compliments in my ear and onlookers were still squealing. Everything was a blur as we marched back to the infield and shook the hands of the other team. Sometime during the flurry of activity, a hand clapped me on the back. I turned around, expecting one of my teammates.
“Good game, son,” my dad said, and he shook my hand as if we were strangers. I stopped and stared at him, caught off guard, but not all that surprised I hadn’t heard from either of my parents in a couple of weeks and now here with no warning.
“Thanks,” I said. Behind my father, my mom stepped up. Dressed in a conservative ankle-length dress with a shawl draped over her shoulders, she stepped forward to hug me. She was smiling, but per usual it was all face and no eyes. Her eyes, once alive with joy, were bleak and dejected, hiding a secret nobody really knew.
“You played very well today,” she said in my ear, standing on her tiptoes to reach. I held her for a few seconds longer than expected, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“I didn’t know you guys were coming today.” I released her from my hold. “You should have told me.”
“You know your father,” mom said. “He couldn’t miss one of your games.”
“Don’t tell me I have to start texting when we want to see you,” my dad said. “Are you embarrassed to find me at one of your games?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I just would have planned dinner or something for us.”
“No need,” my dad said. “We can’t stay. Your mother and I were just in the city for an appointment and figured we’d stop by and watch you play.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Thanks for coming.” I stepped forward to hug my dad while he held out his hand again to shake mine. I stopped before I ran into him and took his hand. He shook it briskly, then dropped it and stepped aside so I could hug my mom again. I tried not to make a face or roll my eyes at my dad as Mom hugged me again.
“Don’t be afraid to call me sometimes,” I said to Mom as she held me. I knew damn well my father frowned upon the constant mother/son interaction, and he never missed an opportunity to tell my mom that thanks to her love and devotion, she’d raised a sissy who’d grown to be half the quarterback he had been in his time. It didn’t seem to matter if she believed him or not because whatever my dad said or did was right, even if it was wrong.
“It’s time to go, Marilyn,” my dad said after she lingered for a few seconds too long. She released me, raising her hand to touch my cheek as she smiled a small upturn of her lips at me.
“I love you,” she said. “And I’m so proud of you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Keep up the work,” my dad said. He clapped me on the shoulder again in what he considered an intimate family touch. Then he nodded at my mother, and they walked away, vanishing into the crowd until the next time they’d randomly pop up without notice.
“Party at Jackson’s house!” Tyler bellowed, slapping me on the back, jostling me from my thoughts. There was a cheer from our team, and I found myself scanning the bleachers for familiar faces. One face in particular, in fact, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it until I spotted her with her friend Alex looking like they were getting ready to leave.
“Nice play out there, Tate,” Coach said. He socked me in the arm. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I said, but I was only vaguely paying attention. Tyler was saying something to me about the beer keg now on its way to my apartment, but I barely heard him.
“Hold on,” I said, and pushed my way through the celebratory crowd to find Grace. I was glad I did, because Alex and that kid Shawn had already distanced themselves from the crowd, and Grace was well on her way to joining them.
“Hey,” I called, and Grace turned to look at me. She smiled when she saw me, and for some reason that made me all proud and giddy inside.
“Good job,” she said. “That will be a fun game to write about.”
“And dream about,” Shawn muttered next to her. Alex elbowed him, landing a blow in his rib cage. He grimaced and muttered something inappropriate, but I didn’t hear what.
“I’m glad you came,” I said to Grace, making it a point to ignore Shawn. “Where are you guys going?”
“Home,” Grace said. “I have a lot of studying to do.”
“You said you’d come to the party,” I reminded her, my tone slightly whiny as a knot of sulkiness welled in my chest. “We even won, so now you have to.”
“She doesn’t have to do anything,” Shawn said, and I wasn’t sure who wanted to hit him more: Alex or me.
“I don’t know . . .” Grace said, hesitating. I looked at Alex for backup, knowing if she decided to go, Grace would, too. I shouldn’t have expected much, however, because I got the feeling that Alex wasn’t my biggest fan.
“I know it’s not your scene, but it will be a lot of fun,” I promised them. “Free drinks and good music.” I looked at Shawn. “You can come, too, if you want.”
“Like I don’t have anything better to do than hang out at some stupid party,” he mumbled, but he looked at the ground when he said this.
“There will be lots of cute, drunk girls,” I told him. The truth was, I wasn’t interested in whether Shawn decided to go, but I knew that I had to be polite to the guy if I was going to get on Grace’s safe side. For some reason that I couldn’t quite place, they were friends, maybe something more, and it would do well not to tread on that thin ice . . . yet.
“We’ll stop by and have some drinks,” Alex said and looked at Grace, who nodded.
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “But we can’t stay long.”
I knew it was pointless to argue because some time was better than none, and I was still trying to figure out why I gave a shit as I backed away, grinning like an idiot.
“See you then,” I said and flashed the million-dollar smile that made women drop their panties on the spot. Grace, however, didn’t drop her panties. She just smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“I hope you have vodka.”
Chapter 17
Grace
Call me a prude, but college parties had never been my thing.
I’d been to a few in my time, but it was always the same thing repeatedly. The night starts all right with drinking, laughing, and having fun, before you find yourself on your hands and knees hovering over the porcelain throne as some stranger you’ve just met holds your hair back and whispers sweet nothing’s in your ear.
Seriously, though. It’s the same every time. Ha
d I not made the conscious effort to steady my liquor intake out of sheer awkwardness alone, tonight would have been no different. The last thing I needed to do was make an ass out of myself in front of Jackson and his posse.
“Did you seriously come to my party to text another boy all night?” Jackson asked. He was teasing, I think, but I felt my face flush red anyway. Two hours into this party and bedtime sounded so nice already. Not because of Jackson, necessarily, but because there were only two people here that I could tolerate and who weren’t giving me the skanky side-eye every time they passed me from where I was hiding in the corner of the quarterback’s living room.
“It’s my mom,” I said. I held up my phone to show him a picture of the two of us. Jackson looked at it for a moment and smiled. “She’s my best friend. She must keep tabs on me, you know. Like a good mom does.”
“Does she live here?” Jackson asked.
“She lives with her new husband and son in California.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and I realized how bad I just made it sound.
“Nothing like that,” I added quickly. “My mom’s new husband is a good guy, and my kid brother is the cutest thing.” I shrugged and slipped my phone back into my pocket. “She’s happy, so I’m happy.”
“Do you see her often?” Jackson asked.
“Not often enough.”
“That’s rough.”
“It’s whatever.” I shrugged, feeling like our conversation was slipping into dangerous territory. “My mom deserves the happiness she has now. She’s an amazing person. A saint.” I didn’t want to get into it, especially not with Jackson, so I quickly changed course. “What about you?” I pushed. “Are you close to your parents?”
“No,” Jackson said. He didn’t offer anything else. Part of me wanted to push for an answer, to get him to talk, but the other part of me knew that I should give him some space. Jackson was making it pretty clear that he had no desire to get into it, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy to engage socially for much longer.
“I should get going,” I said, mostly because I wasn’t sure what else to talk about that wasn’t so awkward. “Early morning classes.”
“You don’t have to go,” Jackson said. “Have a little fun.” He looked across the room to where Alex was cuddled up on the couch with a drink, her slender legs thrown carelessly over a girl I didn’t recognize who was rubbing her inner thigh suggestively. I rolled my eyes.
“We’re not all you and Alex,” I said. “Some of us have responsibilities. Besides,” I made it a point to look around. “You have plenty of people and plenty of booze here to keep you entertained for the rest of the night. You don’t need me.”
“I like your company,” Jackson said.
“You keep saying that, but I know it’s because I keep you in check,” I said. “Finally, someone here who isn’t afraid to remind you to pull your head out of your ass.”
“You think you know me so well,” Jackson said. “But you don’t. Because if you did, you would know that my head will never deflate to the point it will come out of my ass.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed heavily, then looked over at me and winked. I set my half-drank cup aside and reached for my jacket lying near the front door.
“Hey man,” someone said behind Jackson, approaching us. He squeezed Jackson’s shoulder and looked at me. “You haven’t introduced me to your new friend.” I looked at Jackson, then back at the guy. He was grinning at me, but it wasn’t a polite or even a friendly smile. It looked almost menacing, like he was imagining shitty things in his mind.
“Tyler, this is Grace,” Jackson said. Something in his tone was different suddenly. Annoyed, almost. I forced myself to smile at Tyler and offer my hand. He took it, and his skin was warm and clammy. I had to resist the urge to pull away and wipe my hands on Jackson’s pants.
“Grace,” Tyler said, mulling the word over on his tongue like fine wine. “You’re the reporter.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m a journalist, actually,” I said. “Reporters are on TV.”
“She’s sassy, isn’t she?” Tyler asked Jackson, his eyes never leaving my face. “I like her.”
“Grace was just leaving,” Jackson said. His words were urgent, almost protective. If Tyler took notice of Jackson’s change in demeanor, he didn’t let on.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, but didn’t offer my hand a second time.
“Ditto,” Tyler said. Our eyes met briefly once again before he shot a glance at Jackson—one I couldn’t read—and walked away.
“Okay.” I shouldered my way past Jackson to where Alex was still dry humping some chick on the couch. “It’s time to go,” I said.
“Aww, baby, stay for a bit,” Alex purred. She was looking at me, or at least trying to, but she was clearly drunk and couldn’t focus long enough on one spot.
“We should go,” I said. “I’m ready to go home, but I can’t leave you here.”
“I’m fine, gorgeous,” Alex said. Fortunately, before I had to raise my voice and make a scene, Jackson stepped up behind me.
“Sorry, Alex,” he said. “Party is about to wind down, anyway. I need some sleep.”
Alex looked at me, and then back at him, less than impressed.
“Fine,” she groaned. She pushed the horny female specimen off her and stood, swaying, glaring at me. “You’re always such a buzzkill,” she said, heading for the door. I looked at Jackson who was still holding his drink as he watched her go. Then he looked at me.
“I have to go,” I said, and Jackson followed me to the door. Before he could bid us a goodbye, however, Alex doubled over to vomit into a fake plant decoration.
“Yikes,” Jackson said, and I was a bit surprised when he ditched his party for a moment to lend a hand.
“Either we can help her to a bathroom and hope she doesn’t barf all over the hallway, or we can let her clean out into this plant,” I said, gathering Alex’s hair to hold it back for her. Jackson stood on the other side of her, steadying her, making sure she wouldn’t fall over. He looked at the plant, pursed his lips, then looked back at me.
“I never liked this thing anyway,” he said. “Can I help you get her home?”
“We'll be all right,” I said. Alex straightened up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, swaying. She looked at Jackson as if surprised to see him standing there.
“You’re the football guy,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“You’re cute.”
“Aren’t you, like, gay?” Jackson asked. Alex stared between him and me.
“Yeah,” she said. “But she’s not.” Then she doubled over to vomit again. Jackson looked at me.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Let me help you guys home.”
“I promise, we're okay.” I slung Alex’s arm over my shoulder so I could support her and then flashed a smile at Jackson. “Get back to your party, Tate. Those people are in there for you, you know.” He smiled back, and it took everything I had not to let my knees buckle as the dimple appeared on his cheek.
“I’m sorry I made you come tonight,” he said. “Seems to be more issues than it’s worth.”
“Sometimes that’s just how it goes,” I said, making my way towards the elevator as I supported Alex. “We’re not enough alike, Jackson. We run with different crowds. Some people just can’t be friends without it upsetting the natural balance of things.” I stepped into the elevator with Alex and pushed the button to close the door.
“I beg to differ,” Jackson called, but the door was already closing before I could respond.
Chapter 18
Jackson
Per usual, I drank too much and woke up feeling more than just a tad too shitty. I sat up in bed, rubbing my face. My head felt like someone had reached into an eye socket, grabbed ahold of my skull, and beat it with a sledgehammer. It took me a moment to comprehend that I was stark-ass naked, and there was an equally naked girl in
the bed next to me. She was a blonde, someone I didn’t recognize, and she was sound asleep.
I took a deep breath and tossed my legs over the side of the bed, standing up shakily. My mouth tasted vile as though something had died under my tongue, and my stomach was swimming with toxic liquor. I stumbled to the bathroom, stepping over random beer bottles and garbage on the floor as I did. I didn’t remember much about last night after Grace and Alex left. I mean, bits and pieces were swimming around in my skull, but nothing too substantial jumped out at me as I cranked on the hot water to my shower and stepped inside. As I washed up, resisting the overwhelming urge to vomit all over the shower floor, I found myself wondering how Grace was this morning. She hadn’t drunk much before leaving, and I envied how good she was probably feeling right now. Drinking was always worth it until the morning after, that seemed to be the way it went.
I felt a little bit better after a hot shower, and to my great relief, the naked blond girl in my bed had already vanished by the time I went back to the bedroom to get dressed. That would save me the hassle of having to kick her out myself. As I went to the kitchen for some coffee and a handful of dry Cheerios, I stumbled over a lump on the floor. It was Tyler.
“Fucking A, man,” he grumbled, throwing his makeshift blanket of dirty towels off his legs. “You’re up so early.”
“It’s one in the afternoon,” I said, checking the time on my phone.
“I don’t even care,” Tyler groaned, and he rolled onto his stomach, face in the carpet. I’m sure it smelled glorious, like sex, stale food, and old beer, but he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s Sunday, bitch, no classes.”
“Unlike someone here, I have homework to get done before tomorrow,” I said, and Tyler groaned. He got to his feet, running his hand through his disheveled hair. Stained with something that looked smelled like toxic Jungle Juice, his shirt was rumpled. He was only wearing one shoe, though I wasn’t sure he noticed.
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