OUTCAST: A Good Guys Novel

by Jamie Schlosser

  Behind that, there was a large backyard, complete with a sand volleyball court. The net had been taken down, and four long rows were divided with green streamers, going from one end to the other. A white table with red cups full of beer sat at the closest end, Hula Hoops were placed midway, and at the far end there were four baseball bats sticking up in the sand.

  “Okay, here’s the deal,” Max began. “We’re gonna have some fun tonight. Just a friendly competition for our potential members. The winner will be exempt from the next loyalty test, and believe me, you don’t want to have to do it.” He ended his warning with a laugh and several of the older members snickered. Eyeing us new guys, he asked, “Did you memorize the Greek alphabet?”

  We all muttered, “Yes.”

  During pottery class, I’d read over the card until every syllable was engrained into my brain.

  “This is Cameron,” Max introduced a blond dude in a purple polo.

  What was it with these guys and pastel polo shirts? I looked down at my plain dark blue T-shirt. I liked my simple style and I didn’t want to change it.

  “If you haven’t already met him,” Max went on, “you should know he’s the vice president of Pi Kappa Epsilon, and you’ll do whatever he tells you to. Remember, someday one of you could be leaders here, and it comes with a lot of perks.”

  Jeff nudged my arm. “That’s the dude that girl wouldn’t shut up about.”

  “No wonder,” I remarked. “He’s the VP.”

  Cameron stepped forward. “I’ll be demonstrating the race. My time is unmatched,” he boasted. “But don’t worry—I won’t be competing. Watch closely, and I hope you boys are thirsty!”

  Walking over to the table he looked to Max, who had a stopwatch out.

  “Go!” he shouted, and Cameron chugged a full cup of beer in a frighteningly fast manner before sprinting through the sand.

  Picking up one of the toy loops, he began rotating it around his middle while shouting the Greek alphabet. When he was done, he dropped it and ran to the end where he bent at the waist and placed his forehead on the knob of the baseball bat. He spun around five times before running—or quickly staggering was more like it—back to our end.

  Everyone clapped.

  He gave a dizzy bow. “That’s how it’s done, folks.”

  My face screwed up at the thought of chugging the liquid bread piss, but I knew I could do it. Beating these guys would definitely be a challenge. In the past, I never would’ve attempted a race, but I was confident that I could do a simple sprint. I was stronger now.

  I could handle this.

  I couldn’t handle it.

  Was I stronger? Yes. But invincible? No.

  And that became very clear on the run back.

  My mind was foggy from the beer and dizzy from spinning around that damn bat, but I was in the lead.

  I was actually winning!

  Forgetting I wasn’t on solid ground, I went full-speed ahead and the squishy sand slipped under my feet. I twisted something in my knee and went down hard.

  I tried to get up and take the lead back, but it was too late. Aaron was already crossing the finish line, and Jeff was right behind him.

  Well, damn.

  At least I wouldn’t be coming in last. Patrick was still trying to get through the alphabet, so I walked the rest of the way.

  “You okay, man?” Jeff asked, breathing hard from exertion. “You biffed it pretty hard back there.”

  Several of the guys were looking at me, because I hadn’t been able to hide my limp on the way back.

  “Yeah. I’ve just got a bad knee. Old sports injury,” I fibbed.

  It was just a little white lie. Climbing trees wasn’t necessarily a sport, but calling my gimpy leg a sports injury sounded better than saying I was just a former chubby kid who was too clumsy to do normal childhood activities.

  “Congratulations, Aaron.” Max slapped him on the back. “Losers, the next meeting will be Saturday night, and I wasn’t kidding when I said it wouldn’t be pleasant. But for now, the winner gets a special prize.”

  Aaron preened, clearly pleased that he was the victor. Word on campus was that his father had been a member of Pi Kappa Epsilon back in his college days here, so he already had an automatic in. He didn’t have to prove his loyalty, but he wanted to do it anyway.

  “That guy is such an ass kisser,” Jeff muttered next to me, and I snickered.

  “The special prize is—” Max paused. “—a strip show!”

  “Fuck yeah!” Aaron fist pumped the air, but began looking confused when all the frat guys around him were cracking up with laughter.

  “And not just any strip show,” Max continued. “Aaron, you’ll be giving some special ladies from Gamma Delta a treat. They’re already inside, liquored up, and ready to see your man candy.”

  Aaron’s reaction wasn’t what I thought it’d be. Hell, I’d be horrified if I had to do a Magic Mike performance. But the guy was literally jumping for joy over the prospect of taking off his clothes in front of a bunch of drunk girls.

  He did a few more fist pumps before imitating a bad version of the running man. “Take me to the women!”

  We followed the crowd inside.

  The furniture in the living room had been cleared out, and there was a lone chair on the stage by the fireplace. About a dozen girls hovered around the area, then started cheering when they saw Aaron lifting his shirt to show off his abs. “Lap Dance” by N.E.R.D boomed through the surround sound speakers, and someone handed him a cup of beer.

  Still trying to catch my breath from the race, I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I witnessed what had to be the worst stripping performance in the history of erotic dancing.

  I cringed when Aaron started swinging his shirt above his head like a helicopter while humping the chair. More squealing from the girls. Some giggling too, because this really wasn’t a natural talent Aaron possessed.

  I’d never been happier to have my leg give out on me. Holy shit. If I hadn’t fallen, it could’ve been me up there.

  “I’ve never been more grateful for losing,” Jeff announced to me over the yelling and music.

  I nodded. “I was just thinking the same.”

  “That is so not my thing.” Laughing, Jeff cocked his head to the side and pointed at the stage. “I think he found his calling though.”

  “I’m so frat!” Aaron yelled, right before slipping in the puddle of beer he’d spilled.

  Pants around his ankles, he fell on his ass.

  “He needs some practice.” I snickered. “But at least he’s giving it his all.”

  After Aaron’s lackluster performance, Max told us we could leave, but reminded the losers—Patrick, Jeff, and myself—that we had to come back Saturday night prepared for some dirty work. Whatever that meant, I wasn’t sure.

  As I walked away from the frat house, the old familiar throbbing started up in my leg. My knee was achy and stiff, and I knew I’d injured it when I fell.

  I got on the closest bus, but by the time I made it back to my apartment, pain radiated through me with every step. My limp was obvious as I went to the kitchen, and Pierre was right behind me, panting with worry and nudging my good leg with his head.

  “Rapporte la eau,” I grunted, fishing around in the cabinet for the anti-inflammatory meds I kept on hand for bad days. My loyal friend came back with a bottle of water as I poured three pills into my palm. “Thanks, buddy. You’re the best.”

  I considered taking the muscle relaxers that were for emergencies only but decided it wasn’t a good idea. I’d have to get up for class in the morning, and they made me groggy.

  After letting Pierre out in the backyard for a few minutes, I filled up his food bowl, then went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

  I barely had the energy to change clothes, but I managed. Grabbing my ice pack from the freezer, I wrapped it tightly around my leg as I fought the exhaustion.

  Just as I lay down in bed, I grabbed my phone and
sent Kayla a text even though she was asleep.

  Me: You’re still my favorite.

  Pierre came over to the side of the bed and put his paw on the mattress, his sharp gaze attentive.

  “I’ll be okay,” I told him with a pat on the head. “I appreciate your concern, though.”

  Satisfied, he left the room.

  Turning onto my side, I swung my leg over the therapeutic pillow, but it wasn’t nearly as good as Kayla’s warm body.

  I sniffed it. It still smelled like her, and I took comfort in her lingering scent as I let sleep consume me.

  The next morning, my leg was worse.

  I’d fallen asleep with my ice pack on, but the swelling around my knee didn’t look good. The ache was bone-deep, something I hadn’t dealt with in a while.

  Today wasn’t going to be fun.

  Even standing was almost unbearable, and I’d had to use that damn shower seat I swore I wouldn’t need.

  Hissing from the pain, I rubbed at my knee as I sat down on the couch. How was I supposed to make it to class today? I had a quiz in sociology I couldn’t miss.

  A cold wet nose nudged my hand. Pierre sat at attention, looking at me expectantly.

  He knew I was hurting, and he just wanted to help.

  “Rapporte chaussures,” I requested. Fetch shoes.

  I really needed to work on my French because I was pretty sure I butchered the pronunciation every time, but Pierre understood me. Within seconds he was bringing my sneakers over.

  “Rapporte le cartable.” I watched him trot to the front door before dragging my backpack over to me.

  “You’re so badass, you know that?” His answer was a tail wag. “You want to come to class with me today?”

  His ears perked up and he let out an excited huff.

  He needed this as much as I did. I’d been trying so hard to pretend he was just a regular pet, but helping was what he lived for. He loved this job.

  As he looked up at me with soulful brown eyes, I felt bad for being ashamed of him. Really, it wasn’t him I was trying to hide—it was me.

  On days like today, though, I couldn’t imagine carrying my heavy books on top of the pain I was already experiencing. Besides, if I wanted to be in any kind of condition to participate in the loyalty test Pi Kap had tomorrow night, I needed to be able to function.

  Eyeing Pierre’s vest that had been sitting unused next to the coat closet, I made a decision. “All right, Pierre. Rapporte la veste.”

  I knew something was wrong the second I saw Ezra at our meeting spot on the quad. His face was tight, his mouth pressed in a thin line as he sat on the bench.

  And he had Pierre with him, service backpack and all.

  He smiled at me as I approached, and my concern for him was momentarily replaced with the flutters in my stomach.

  Our lips connected immediately after I took a seat next to him, but when we parted I glanced down at his leg. He was wearing loose-fitting black track pants, and I had to resist the urge to pull up the fabric to look for myself to see how bad it was.

  “What happened?”

  He shook his head. “Just an accident. We were running around at the Pi Kap house in the sand last night and I tripped.”

  I got the feeling he wasn’t telling me something, and I raised an eyebrow. “Running around?”

  “We were playing a game,” he stated vaguely with a shrug.

  Pursing my lips, I said, “I hate to sound like a nagging wife, but you should be more careful.”

  Ezra grinned and leaned forward until our noses were touching. “You can sound like a nagging wife anytime. In fact, I insist on it from now on.”

  I stole a quick kiss, taking advantage of how close our faces were. “How about we go back to your place and I’ll make you feel better before I have to go to class?”

  His face lit up. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “When you said you’d make me feel better, I thought you were talking about something else,” Ezra grumped. “Like yesterday.”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter,” I quipped, sitting next to him on the couch with a fresh bag of ice. “What I meant was, I’d drive you home and nurse you back to health.”

  Laughing at his disappointed expression, I placed the cold pack over his knee, then began massaging his thigh.

  Closing his eyes, he groaned and let his head fall back.

  “I’m serious about being careful, though,” I persisted. “I know you want to have fun, but it’s okay to let people know you have limits.”

  “Well, they know now.” The corners of his lips turned down. “You should’ve seen the looks I got today. Max asked about Pierre in sociology.”

  “What did you say?”

  Peeking at me through heavy eyelids, he shrugged. “I embellished a bit. Went with the ‘old sports injury’ excuse.”

  Frowning, I asked, “You don’t think he would’ve been cool with the truth?”

  “I think it’s me who isn’t cool with it.”

  My heart hurt for him. “Ezra.”

  He sighed. “It’s okay. It was bound to happen eventually. I’ve been trying to pretend like I’m all better, when the truth is I’m not. My leg has improved, but it’s always going to be a problem. I’ll never be normal.”

  “Stop,” I begged in a whisper. He was being so hard on himself. “Normal is one of the most ridiculous words ever. What does it even mean?”

  “It means not needing a special pillow to sleep with. It means not needing a dog to carry my books for me. It means being able to stand up while I’m taking a shower.”

  “Hey, don’t knock the shower seat,” I mock-scolded. “I think that might be one of my favorite things about this place. And I love it that you need something to snuggle with at night. I’ll always be happy to fill in.”

  A slow smile crept up on his lips. “You wanna fill in tonight?”

  “You bet.” I leaned in for a quick kiss.

  “Good. I wanted to take you out, but we might have to stay in with my leg acting up.” He toyed with my fingers. “But I’ll make you dinner.”

  “Will there be chocolate?” I asked seriously.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then you’ve got yourself a date.”

  “I like these pants on you,” Ezra murmured, trailing his pinky finger up my thigh. “They’re sexy.”

  “They’re just yoga pants.”

  “Have you ever done yoga?” he asked without looking up from his sketchbook.

  “No.” I snickered. “Maybe I’ll let you teach me sometime.”

  He let out an amused huff. “You with your ass in the air? Now, that I can get on board with.”

  “Ooh, we could even do naked yoga,” I suggested.

  Ezra’s hand spasmed over the page, and I giggled.

  We were sitting in a lawn chair on his back patio, me facing him, straddling his legs as he drew one of my eyes. He’d wanted to have some close-up time to get it just right, and I couldn’t turn down some close-up time on his lap.

  The sketchbook was between us, and I was assisting him by grasping several colored pencils in my hand—all different shades of green, blue, gray, and brown.

  I was glad we didn’t go out. In my opinion, this was the perfect date. Just Ezra and me. And Pierre, too.

  The happy dog ran over, panting around the tennis ball in his mouth. I took it from him and threw it across the yard for the twentieth time.

  “Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls,” I said to Ezra in my best Kate Winslet impression, which came out sounding more like the Count from Sesame Street.

  His eyes flew to mine. “Huh?”

  “Your French girls.” I ditched the accent and went for sultry this time.

  Confusion caused his eyebrows to bunch together. “I don’t have any French girls. And who the hell is Jack?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Titanic?”

  “Nope.”

  I rocked back on h
is lap in shock, being careful not to put too much weight on his knee. “Ezra, it’s a classic. Jack is an artist and he draws naked women.”

  That got his attention. “You want me to draw you naked? Like, right now?”

  Laughing at his eagerness, I shook my head. “Not right now. I just ate.”

  As promised, Ezra had prepared a delicious dinner for us. The hearty beef stew he’d made in the slow cooker was unbelievably good. While he’d dished it out, he explained how he used organic grass-fed beef, and the carrots and celery were locally grown. Pretty fancy stuff.

  I’d even gone back for seconds and my stomach was so stuffed, I didn’t even have room for the brownies he’d made for dessert.

  Some nude modeling sounded fun, but I would prefer to do it when I didn’t feel like I’d swallowed an entire Crock-Pot.

  “But I mean, I’d be up for it sometime,” I said. At first I’d been joking, but now that option had some appeal.

  Grabbing a shade of blue, Ezra smirked. “We can try it, but there’s a good chance I wouldn’t be able to finish without mauling you halfway through.”

  “That’s fine with me.” This idea was sounding better and better.

  “You’re very distracting, you know that?” Ezra shifted, and I could feel his hardening cock against my inner thigh. “I’m almost done.”

  I bit back a smile. “I’ll be good and let you finish.”

  He went back to work, and I tossed the ball for Pierre again. The sound of the traffic from the busy street in the distance was peaceful, but my thoughts drifted to earlier when I’d shown up.

  I’d taken a shortcut across the field, since it was just a straight shot to his place, but now I knew why the large area was unusable. The other side by the road was a minefield of broken beer bottles.

  When I’d gotten inside Ezra’s fenced-in backyard, I told him that much, and he seemed concerned as I picked a shard of glass out of the sole of my tennis shoe. I was lucky I hadn’t been wearing flip-flops.

  “Are you okay?” he’d asked, glaring out at the field like he wanted to kick its ass. “Someone should clean that up.”