Covering the Quarterback

by Amber Thielman

  Earlier in the evening, Tyler had texted me about a party, but I had no desire to go. I was growing tired of the same shit. The random girls, the hangovers, the gluttony of college students and their drama. I wanted more. Finally, for the first time in my life, I wanted more than infantile parties and one-night-stands. And although I wanted to pat myself on the back for avoiding such nonsense tonight, I wasn’t sure getting drunk alone in my house was the answer. But even then, knowing the reality, I could be glad it wasn’t pills.

  As the limited alcohol I had left dwindled to the end, I picked up my phone and through bleary eyes called up Grace. What I intended to tell her over the phone was beyond me, I just wanted to hear her voice, even if all she could do was scream at me. It didn’t matter one way or the other, though, because she didn’t answer. I expected nothing less, of course, but it hurt just the same. For the next few minutes, I debated internally with myself as to what to do next. Yes, I should forget about her and move on. But it didn’t seem to matter how many times I told myself that, I still had this annoying urge to fight for it, to fight for her. Time was running out for us, and maybe it was the alcohol consuming my logical thoughts, but I didn’t want it to end now. Not now, probably not ever.

  I stood up too quickly and almost fell, but after composing myself, I slipped my cell phone into my pocket and walked out the door with every intention of making this right, come hell or high water.

  It was a quarter to eleven, and although there was a chance that she was already in bed, I couldn’t turn around and go home. Not yet, not when we’d left everything between us so unfinished.

  The front porch light to Grace’s house was on, so that gave me the motivation I needed to step up and knock on the door. I wanted to see her face, even if it was an expression of anger and intense hatred. I needed to talk to her. I needed us to work through this, even if she didn’t feel the same way. But it wasn’t Grace who answered the door. It was Alex.

  “Is Grace here?” I asked.

  “No, sorry,” Alex said. Sitting on the couch behind her was Katie, and I felt a pang of jealousy at the normality of their attraction She glared at me, displeased that I’d interrupted whatever darling romance they’d been engaged in, but I didn’t have time to care.

  “Where is she?” I demanded. Alex sighed loudly. She didn’t seem very happy with me, either, and I didn’t blame her even one bit.

  “She went to a party with Shawn,” she said finally. At first, I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly, and a ball of dread filled so quickly in the pit of my stomach that I almost felt like puking.

  “A party?” I repeated. “Don’t tell me they went to—””

  “Yeah, as in your douchebag football friend’s party,” Alex said distastefully. Reading the expression on my face, she started to nod. “Trust me; I thought the same thing.”

  “Christ.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, thanks.” I turned to leave with every intention of finding Grace as soon as I could, but Alex called out to me.

  “Jackson,” she said, and stepped out the door, closing it behind her for privacy. She took a deep breath, folding her arms across her chest. “Why now?” she asked. “Before now you never took a second look at Grace. She didn’t even exist. So why now? What are you doing?”

  I hesitated before answering, knowing exactly what I was going to say and not caring if Alex believed me or not.

  “I know her now,” I said. “I ... I think I ... I love her, Alex.”

  She seemed taken aback by that, but she didn’t take a swing at me which was a good thing. She sighed again, biting her lower lip. I prepared for her to fight me, to tell me what a loser I was and how stupid I must be to say those words. Instead, she nodded. A simple nod, just once. A no-bullshit invitation to go for it. We had her blessing.

  “Don’t fuck with her, okay?” she said. “Grace is my best friend, and she deserves the best in the world. So, if you’re going to ride in on your white horse and rescue her ... you better make it a fucking kick-ass stallion.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I intend to.”

  Chapter 49

  Grace

  I wasn’t going to turn back now, but crashing Tyler’s party was stupid on every level. I was three drinks in and nobody kicked us out, plus Shawn was sitting on the staircase with a girl in a mini-skirt who was so drunk she kept trying to slide her tongue down his throat, even though he kept resisting. I figured this was because Shawn had never had so much action at one time in his twenty-one years on earth, and he didn’t know how to react to it. If anything, at least I had something other than Jackson to turn my attention to. Drinks and a show, what a treat.

  My phone, without fail, had been going off all night, and each time it was Jackson. I could only assume that he was drunk again and feeling insecure. I had finally succumbed to just turning it off so I wouldn’t wallow in it.

  At a little bit after eleven, the buzz from the drinks were going to my head, and Tyler finally spotted me from his position in the middle of the room. As he headed my way, I braced myself for an argument, more insults maybe, but before I could even put the drink down and bail, he was in my face. His eyes were red and bloodshot, breath reeking of so many varieties of liquor I couldn’t even decipher one from the other. Not that I had room to talk, the floor was in the midst of tipping me right over—and I wasn’t even walking.

  “Well look who showed up to my shindig,” Tyler said. He was smiling the same creepy smile I’d seen before. It made the hair on my arms stand on edge.

  “Yeah, I decided to crash,” I said. I didn’t care anymore what Tyler thought of me or anything else. I was too drunk to be intimidated by him, and that was probably neither a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Mi casa, su casa,” Tyler said with a wink. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes straight back into the depths of my skull, I forced a smile and nodded politely. Either he’d kick me out or offer me another drink. I wasn’t sure which.

  “You look pretty decent tonight,” he said, leaning in closer to me. I stood up against the wall, resting my back, and Tyler took it upon himself to raise one arm up over my head, palm against the wall as if trapping a wild animal. I winced, but either he didn’t care or was too drunk to notice.

  “Charming as ever, Tyler.”

  “You know, Grace, I see in you what Jackson doesn’t care to,” Tyler said. He raised his free hand up and began to caress my cheek with it. He was still smiling slightly, but it didn’t put me at ease like I’m sure he intended. I looked down at the ground, remembering the night I heard him talking to Jackson about me—saying all those shitty things.

  “You’re no better than he is,” I said. “In fact, it was you who made me sound so horrible.”

  “You want to know why I said those things?” Tyler asked. His fingers trailed from my cheek down to my neck, and I shivered involuntarily. He leaned in, his breath warm on my face. “Because I was jealous. I wanted you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” I tried to duck around him, but there was no way out. He had me closed in. “You’re drunk.”

  “Drunk and happy, baby,” Tyler said. He straightened up, winking again. “Have another drink.”

  “Where’s your bathroom?” I asked, and he pointed up the stairs. I side-stepped him and made my way around the couples lingering on the steps. Shawn, who now had his hand up the drunk girl’s shirt, didn’t even see me pass.

  Once in the bathroom, I splashed some warm water on my face, taking a deep breath. I was ready to leave, but I was hesitant to bail and leave Shawn. Besides, I wanted badly to enjoy the night, drink a little bit more, forget about Jackson and everything he was—or wasn’t—to me. If I was lucky, my little run-in with Tyler would be the first and last one of the night.

  I stumbled out of the bathroom, cheeks burning from the alcohol, but before I could find my way back downstairs, Tyler was there suddenly, in front of me, standing at the top of the stairs with a drink in his hand.

 
; “Excuse me,” I said, but he didn’t move out of my way. I stopped where I was, staring him down, wondering what he was up to and at the same time not wanting to know.

  “Let me show you something,” Tyler said. He took my hand, his touch surprisingly gentle, and led me to an open-door bedroom.

  “I should get going,” I said. I knew whatever was about to happen next wasn’t on my agenda for the night.

  “Sweetie, you need to relax a bit,” Tyler said. He set his drink down and led me to the bed where he pointed for me to sit. I hesitated, wondering what my success rate would be if I bolted for the door. It wasn’t looking good, not for how much my head whirled.

  “I know you’re hurt over Jackson,” Tyler said. He sat down next to me, and while I felt my body tense up, I couldn’t will myself to move away from him. He looked at me, forging an expression of pathetic sympathy.

  “No one has hurt me,” I said. “Least of all Jackson Tate.”

  “Well, let me make it up to you,” Tyler said. He leaned in a bit, his breath hot on my face. “There’s no better revenge than me, right?” he murmured. His fingers moved from my shoulder and down until his hand was caressing the inside of my thigh. The sensation was overwhelming, but not in a pleasant way, not the way Jackson’s touch had once felt on my skin. No, this was different. There was some furious desperation that went with Tyler’s arousal, like at any moment he would take over and go for it, despite how I was feeling in that moment. His fingers were cold, skin chilling and uncomfortable against my own. Revenge, petty as it was, sounded good. The alcohol was flooding my logic, urging this on, and for a moment, I didn’t care what was going to happen. I didn’t care about much of anything, not anymore.

  “Are you ready?” Tyler murmured, and his calloused fingers slid down towards the part in my thighs. The drinks I’d consumed earlier made my head fuzzy and my fingers weak and numb.

  “No,” I breathed, and I hoped I sounded more secure than I felt. “I don’t want to do this with you. No.”

  “It’s fine.” With one hand Tyler started to rub my crotch over my jeans, and with his other hand, he unzipped his fly. I swallowed, turning my face away, and reached to push his hand away.

  “I changed my mind. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Chill out,” he said, slipping his pants down far enough to expose his throbbing hard-on. My eyes fluttered open and my entire body tensed up.

  “Tyler,” I said, and made an uneasy attempt to sit up. “I said I can’t do this.”

  I didn’t apologize, and I wasn’t about to. I blinked a few times to clear my head and then started to push him off, more forcefully this time. For a split second it seemed like he was going to comply, but after that fleeting moment had passed, I was suddenly caught off guard as Tyler appeared to have a change of heart. He pushed me back down on the bed, hands firm on my chest. I could barely gather my thoughts before I felt him reaching for the button on my jeans.

  Sirens started to wail in my head, and adrenaline coursed through my body. I kicked at him, missing the first time but nailing him straight in the stomach the second time around. It hindered him, but only for a moment. As I clambered in a blind panic from the bed, Tyler grabbed me around the waist, picked me clear up off the floor, and turned to throw me down on the bed. I struggled as violently as a drunk girl could, but after a moment of frivolous effort, I realized I wouldn’t be able to defeat him alone. He seemed to be soberer than I was, and he was definitely stronger.

  “Stop it!” I shrieked, and Tyler slapped a sweaty hand over my mouth, smothering my cries for help. As I struggled, tears streaming down my face, I tried to justify that maybe I deserved everything that was about to happen. No one had put a gun to my head and forced me to this party, let alone into the bedroom with him.

  “Be quiet,” Tyler grunted. His hands were sweaty and smelled vile. An uncomfortable, tight feeling clawed at my chest, and just as I was about to consider giving up and letting him do it, the bedroom door swung open so hard it hit the wall behind it. Some framed photo fell from the wall and broke on the floor, and I barely had time to figured out what was happening before Tyler was pulled off me and hit square in the nose by Jackson. There was a horrible cracking sound and Tyler screamed profanities, holding his hand over his nose as blood pooled between his fingers. Jackson knelt next to me now, taking my face in his hands as he looked into my eyes.

  “Are you okay?” He sounded so far away, his words trying to compete with the loud buzzing in my head. He put one arm under me to help me stand, and with one of my free hands I pulled my pants back on and buttoned them despite the quivering in my fingers. Tyler, who was sitting on the floor up against the wall with the bloody nose, was scowling at us as Jackson shrugged off his jacket and laid it over my shoulders. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with either one of them. I was hurt and ashamed and most of all terrified of what had just happened. As Jackson led me towards the bedroom door to leave, he stopped in front of Tyler and gave him a skin crawling glare.

  “If you ever lay another finger on her again, I will kill you.”

  Chapter 50

  Jackson

  The cab ride back to my apartment was silent. Grace seemed to be in a state of shock, and wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t speak. I hesitated to touch her, or even to try and talk to her because I didn’t want to set her off. If I thought I’d felt rage regarding her abusive father, that was nothing compared to what I felt now. As the cabbie drove, I had to resist every human urge I had to go back to that party and smash in Tyler’s face. I wasn’t a violent guy; never had been. But beating the shit out of my ex-best friend was the only thing I wanted to do.

  “Do you want me to take you home instead?” I asked Grace as the cab pulled up to my apartment building. She didn’t answer at first. She was staring out the window into the darkness. In the shadows, her hair was mussed up and falling out of the braid. She was a mess. Instead of answering me directly, she opened the door of the cab and stepped out, swaying a bit on the pavement. I paid the driver and followed her as she started for the front door of my complex. She still wasn’t speaking, but she seemed to know exactly what she was doing, so I didn’t stop her.

  More silence settled over us as we rode the elevator to my floor. I unlocked the door and shut it behind us, switching on a dim lamp as Grace trudged across the living-room floor and collapsed onto my couch. I went to the kitchen to fill a cup of water, then grabbed some aspirin from my cupboard and brought it to her. She was staring blankly ahead, not looking at me, but she took the water and sipped at it. I sat down next to her but still resisted the urge to reach out and hold her. I couldn’t force my affection on her. If I’d learned anything in the time I’d known Grace, it was that you had to let her come to you.

  After a few minutes of more silence, she looked over at me. Her skin was streaked with tears, makeup running, hair in disarray. I looked back at her but didn’t speak.

  “Can we go lie down?” she asked. Her voice was quiet; so quiet I almost hadn’t been able to hear her words.

  “Yes,” I said, and stood up to offer her my hand. Much to my surprise, she took it, and we walked to my bedroom. As I kicked off my shoes, Grace didn’t even bother getting undressed, and instead crawled right on top of the comforter, gripping one of my pillows to her chest as if to comfort herself. I laid down next to her, still careful not to be too overbearing.

  She was quiet, her face partially covered by the darkness in my bedroom, the other side glowing by the light of the lamp. I watched her expression, noticed again the mascara-stained cheeks and slightly smeared lip-gloss. Seeing Grace in such pain, such embarrassment, made me want to put my fist through Tyler’s face and never stop. Even as the minutes ticked by, my anger didn’t fade. I had never felt this way before; I’d never experienced such a protective instinct over another person.

  “How are you?” I asked. Grace didn’t look at me, but I saw her chest rise and fall with a silent sigh.

  “E
mbarrassed,” she said. “Annoyed. Angry. But mostly relieved.”

  “I’m sorry.” I reached over to rest one hand on her arm. After what Tyler had tried to do, I feared that my mere touch would set her off, frighten her, but I wanted nothing more at that very moment than to hold this girl and never let go.

  “Why are you sorry?” Grace asked. She reached up and wiped a tear from one eye. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I shouldn’t have let him near you,” I said, and I could feel myself getting worked up over it all over again. I wanted to kill him.

  “You didn’t let him anywhere. I went with him,” Grace said. “I chose to go to his party when I knew it was a bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was angry.” She let her words hang in the air for a moment, and I pondered this.

  “Were you trying to get back at me?” I asked. She shrugged, but I knew I’d hit the nail on the head.

  “Maybe,” she said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her voice cracked, and I squeezed her hand in reassurance. I was secretly thrilled when she didn’t pull away. I wanted so desperately to pull her into me and hold her tight, but she was fragile, and I wasn’t about the break the thin weave of web holding her near me. I would be there for her, I would protect her with my life if it came down to it, but I wasn’t about to push her away.

  Chapter 51

  Grace

  I allowed myself to melt into Jackson, to embrace the secure feeling of his arms around me, pulling me in. Despite what had happened earlier with Tyler, I wanted Jackson so badly I wondered for a moment if sex was even enough. What came after sex? Love? Did I love Jackson? I wasn't sure. The thought of sex with any other man had only ever made me want to curl up and hide. But now, with Jackson, things were different. I wanted this. I wanted him.