by Lisa De Jong
I shake my head, watching the light rain fall against the window. I wonder if Coach might cancel practice tonight. We practice seven days a week, almost every month throughout the year. If it’s not outside, it’s inside. I love football, but living it almost every day is a little overwhelming, especially when my friends are off doing their thing.
“I’m taking off,” Dad announces, pulling my mom away from the sink to wrap her in his arms. He’s done it every morning since I can remember. It’s gross.
He kisses her lips before letting her go to kiss the top of each of my sisters’ heads. When he gets to me, he messes up my hair and says, “I love you. Be good.”
Usually I say something back. I’d tell him that I love him, but not that morning. I broke the rules that morning, and it nearly broke me.
We all watched him walk out the door, my sisters even waving behind him. I moved my attention back to my full bowl of Frosted Flakes. Dad gets mad at me a lot, but he’s usually okay by the next day.
My mom finishes the dishes while we eat the last of our breakfast. I stare out the window in wonder of all the colorful leaves that cover our usually green lawn, and after a few minutes, I hear a series of sirens in the distance.
“Mom, what’s that?” my sister Quinn asks, running to get closer to the window.
“There’s probably another fender bender out on the highway. They’ve got to fix some of those stop signs.” She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and throws it on the counter. “Okay, we need to go. Get your coats and shoes on.”
We listen without giving Mom any grief today. Days like this, when we’re already on Dad’s bad side, we know better than to make it worse.
We’re all quiet as we drive out of our sleepy little neighborhood to the main road that goes through our town. I’m completely in a daze with my forehead pressed against the cold window when we come to the stoplight that controls when we get to cross the highway. Lights—red and blue—flash, highlighted even more so by the bleak day.
I’m staring out the window, wondering if we’re going to be late for school when I hear her scream. I’ve never heard my mom like that, even when she’s angry with us, and as I watch her run out the door, I see why. The twisted piece of metal in the middle of the road is the same color as my dad’s old Ford.
My heart stops … completely stops in my chest. I’m only eleven, but I’m not stupid.
My mom crumbles to the ground in front of our car. My eyes search frantically for the telltale Southern Iowa Hawks sticker on the bumper of his car. It’s older, worn by the sun, and I’ve never seen another one like it. A painful tightness grips my heart when I spot it. This isn’t good. Not one bit.
A tear rolls down my cheek. More want to follow, but I hold them in.
“Drake, what’s going on?” Tessa asks from beside me.
Using one hand, I wipe the tear from my face, and with the other, I grab her hand in mine. “It’s going to be okay.”
I have to be strong. It’s what my dad would want me to do.
That day, a drunk driver took my dad’s life and destroyed my family, and while I blamed the selfish bastard, I’ve been harder on myself. In my mind, I thought my actions caused it … by the things I didn’t say that morning. I’ve wondered every day since if he was thinking about me when he was hit. If I hadn’t been such a little shit that morning, would he have paid better attention when the light turned? Deep down inside, I think I know it had nothing to do with me, but my guilt makes it feel like it had everything to with me.
That was the only time I didn’t say I love you back to my dad, and I’ve held that regret inside … it’s become a permanent part of me. What happened that day has affected every decision I’ve made since. It’s why I keep running, to get away from the monsters that are constantly chasing me. But when you’re living in a nightmare, no matter how fast you run, you’ll never get away.
I need to find a way to turn this around … football can’t be the only thing I have in my life. At some point, I have to start letting him go and live for myself. I need to find forgiveness.
Taking a long, deep breath, I knock on Beau’s door. At least five times on the way here, I wanted to turn around and go back home. I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
“Hey,” Beau says, opening the door to invite me in.
“Thanks for letting me come over, man.” I pat his back as I walk past, taking a seat on the edge of the oversized couch. I helped Beau and Cory move their stuff in at the beginning of the semester. It was a bachelor pad back then: white walls, black leather furniture, a few lamps, and a big TV. Their girlfriends have worked wonders with the place, adding some bright red and blue pictures and a big red rug. I think it’s crazy they let them do it in the first place.
“You want something to drink?” Beau asks, opening the fridge.
“Beer. Please.”
He looks over at the fridge door, his eyebrows pulled in. “Don’t you have practice today?”
“Fuck,” I groan, rubbing my hand over my face. “I hate football season.”
Beau laughs, walking to me with two waters in his hands. “It’s only a few months out of the year.” Sitting in the chair across from me, he watches me intently. It’s time to get this show on the road.
“I need some help.”
“Okay, be a little more specific.” He twists the cap off his water but never takes his eyes off me.
“Emery.” It’s one word, but by the way his face relaxes, I think he knows where I’m going with this.
“Go on.”
“I like her. Fuck. I mean I like her a lot, and I’m not sure how to show her that in a way that doesn’t piss her off. Things will be really good between us for a few hours, or even a day, then I fuck it up.”
He glances up at the ceiling, letting out a deep breath. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Nothing. I mean everything. I don’t fucking know.” Throwing my hands in the air, I accept defeat. Emery 1, Drake 0. This game could go on for eternity, and I think she’d still own it.
He leans in, elbows resting on his knees. Eyes as serious as I’ve ever seen them. “Just tell me what happened.”
“We had that project to do so we were spending time together. You know me. Usually, I don’t give a damn if a girl likes me. It’s not at the top of my priority list, but Emery, she’s different. She’s smart, confident, and she doesn’t give a fuck that I’m the quarterback of the football team. She just cares about me as a person … I can’t explain it.”
I stop, rehearsing the next part in my mind. Beau knows me, but he also knows Emery, and I don’t know what he’s going to think about the rest of this. “I kissed her one night at a party. She was flirting with Cole, or should I say, he was flirting with her. I pulled her away, and we ended up in the bathroom. We’ve been doing this stupid back and forth thing ever since. I pull away, she gets pissed at me, then we repeat the whole process all over again a few days later.”
Closing his eyes, he asks, “Did you sleep with her?”
“That’s really none of your fucking business, Bennett, but yes. We’ve had sex.”
The way his eyes burn into mine when he opens them tells me he thinks I’m a freaking idiot. “Have you established some type of relationship? If all you do when things are good is have sex, you’re not going to get very far. I don’t know Emery well, but she’s not just any girl. She’s not the type of girl you fuck just to fuck, Drake. She does everything for a purpose. What’s yours?”
His words shatter every thought I had about why Emery and I weren’t working up to this point. It’s not about what I’m doing, or what we’re doing. It’s about what I’m not doing. “I told her something I hadn’t told anyone before. No one here anyway.”
“Really? When did you do that?”
“After we had sex for the first time,” I admit quietly.
Beau shakes his head as he stands and walks back to the fridge, pulling out a beer this time. “I’m sure she
appreciated it, but if you really want something with Emery, you’re going to have to do more than pillow talk. Dates? Dinner? Dancing? I don’t know, but this is not going to work with her. She’s too fucking smart for your shit.” He stops, taking a long drink from his beer. “The good news is, she must like you a little bit if she’s put up with you this long.”
“Okay, I get it. What do I do now?”
He laughs, setting his beer down on the coffee table.
Sitting back, I rest my arms on the top of the couch. This is going to be a long fucking afternoon.
After talking to Beau, I feel better and worse. Better because I know what I have to do, and it’s not completely impossible. Worse because he made me see myself through Emery’s eyes. It’s not a pretty picture. In fact, it’s so much fucking worse than ugly.
I texted her on Monday night and told her I had some shit to work out before I could see her again. Shit being myself, but she didn’t have to know that. Not yet.
But today, I find myself in class with no option but seeing her. She’d never skip. I wanted to but felt like she’d read too much into it if I did.
I arrive early on purpose, selecting a seat in the middle of the lecture hall. I’m being a coward again; I didn’t want to walk into the room and have to decide whether or not it was a good idea to take a seat next to her. I’m not ready to talk about everything.
A few minutes before the lecture starts, I see her out of the corner of my eye. She stops briefly in the aisle right next to my row, but after a short stare down, she continues to the front.
My focus stays on her for most of the class. Her hair is tied up in a bun at the top of her head, and she’s wearing these ridiculous dark-rimmed glasses that are actually kind of cute on her.
For sixty minutes, I wait for her to look back at me. I keep thinking that maybe she’ll glance back and show the smile that I miss so much. It’s rejection. It’s fuck you.
When Professor McGill ends her lecture, I stay in my seat, anxious to see what Emery’s next move will be. Not surprisingly, she walks straight up the center aisle without even glancing in my direction.
My chest aches, but in the end, watching her was the best thing for me. It gave me the push I needed to do what I should have done a long time ago.
DRAKE IS A MISTAKE. A bad choice. I’m part of a game he plays, and he plays it well. He won me over, but if he’s winning, someone has to be losing.
And this is why I stick to my game plan, because if I don’t, I lose.
And I’ve most certainly lost this one.
“Are you doing okay?”
I glance over at Kate who’s driving us to one of Beau’s parties. I made her promise at least ten times that Drake wouldn’t be there tonight. “Yeah, I’m actually looking forward to getting out. It’s been a long week.”
She smiles sympathetically as she turns down Beau’s street. “Tonight’s going to be a good night. I guarantee it.”
I survey the street, noting that it’s not quite as packed as it usually is during one of these. “Where is everyone?”
“We’re a little early. I told Beau we’d help setup,” she says, putting the car in park and straightening the front strands of her hair in the rearview mirror.
“What is there to setup?”
She opens the door, ignoring my question. “Are you coming?”
I climb out of the car and follow her, smoothing out the leather miniskirt she talked me into wearing along the way. It was on clearance at one of those discount department stores, and I think there was a pretty good reason for that.
The nerves don’t start to set in until we’re on our way up the stairs. I came to have one last hurrah before I bury myself in my books again, but I don’t need to see Drake, or replace him with another Drake.
Kate starts fidgeting with the rings on her fingers as we come to a stop in front of Beau’s door. Usually, she’d be the one to knock, but she hasn’t done it yet.
“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to read the expression on her face.
She shrugs, clasping her hands in front of her. “Beau and I had a little argument earlier, and I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
“Like you have anything to be nervous about,” I say, knocking on the old wooden door. Honestly, that guy will love her until the day he dies no matter what she does.
As the door opens, my eyes go wide.
Kate’s hand wraps around my arm, pushing me into the apartment. “Don’t hate me. This was the only way I could get you here.”
The apartment is dark for the most part, lit by a few candles set up on the dining table. There are six white tulips in a vase in the center, and table settings for two. Soft music plays in the background, but it’s all too muffled to make out because my heart is beating into my ears.
I turn to Kate who has her bottom lip hidden between her teeth. “What’s going on?”
Before she gets a chance to answer, I spot a dark figure coming around the corner. It’s hard to make out who it is at first. “This is our first date.”
“Drake,” I whisper, recognizing the voice. This is … this is just not okay.
“Em, I want another chance to do this right. I fucked up, and this is my apology.”
“What are you sorry for?” I swallow the huge lump in my throat. A part of me wants to back out the door and run home; the other part of me wants to stay.
He takes two steps toward me, the candlelight allowing me to see his face for the first time. “For treating you like you were just another girl.”
Two more steps. If he really wanted to, he could touch me.
“Because you’re not just another girl.”
With a couple more steps, his chest touches mine, and his lips tentatively press to my forehead. He smells so damn good … like clean citrus. Warmth pools between my legs forcing me to shift on my feet. It shouldn’t be this hard to stay away from him.
Why does he have to be my exception?
“Words are just words without meaning. Tell me, Drake, what makes me different?”
I’m expecting him to stumble, to have to think about his words, but he doesn’t hesitate. “You’re feisty. And you don’t put up with my shit. You don’t care that I’m the quarterback. You’re the girl who wants to know me, not just be seen with me. You’re also the girl who’ll come to my room to fix my injured shoulder even though I’ve been a dick.”
He cups my face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along my cheekbones. “You’re the only one who can wake me up from my nightmare.”
Closing my eyes, I lick my lower lip. For once, I’m going to choose my words carefully. Let my thoughts simmer before I release them. Making hasty decisions hasn’t worked out too well for me lately.
“What do you want from me Drake?”
“I just want to be with you, Em. I’m done with this back and forth, this tug-of-war … I want to erase the doubt you feel every time we’re together. I want you to know after I leave that I’m coming back. I want to know that you’re there for me even when I try to push you away.” He leans in, his warm breath tickling my skin. “What’s holding you back? What can I do to fix this?”
Wrapping my hands around the back of his head, I pull his lips to mine. He’s my vulnerability, or maybe my strength. Time will tell. All I know right now is it’s been five days since his lips were on mine, and that’s too damn long.
This kiss is gentle, his lips simply slow dancing with mine. When I press my tongue against the seam of his lips, he denies me, kissing me softly one more time before pulling back. “We’re just going to talk tonight.”
For once, that word disappoints me, but at the same time, I know we need it. “Okay,” I whisper.
He smiles. “I made you dinner.”
“You made me dinner?”
Grabbing my hand in his, he leads me to the table. “It’s nothing too fancy, but we have roast, potatoes, and carrots. It’s my specialty.”
“It sounds better than anything I can get i
n the cafeteria.” He lets go of my hand and pulls my chair out, allowing me to sit down.
I watch as he walks to the kitchen. His jeans mold to him perfectly. His blue flannel shirt hugs his chest and arms, showcasing all the hard work on the football field. He could wear just about anything, and it would look good on him. As he comes back my way with a large dish filled with food, I inhale, letting the savory smell overwhelm my nose. “It smells delicious.”
“Let’s eat. The smell has been playing with my stomach all day. I can’t take it any longer. Ladies first.” He sits in the chair next to me, adjusting the tongs so I can reach them.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling at him.
We’re quiet for a couple minutes, each loading our plates with as much as they can possibly hold. It’s weird how things don’t happen the way you expect them to, but yet they end up happening exactly the way you need. My walls are caving in little by little. It’s as if I’ve stepped into this whole new world of living that makes me wonder if I was ever really alive before.
“You look nice. I like that skirt,” Drake says, breaking through the silence.
I feel my face turning a deep red … I’ve never been more grateful for a candlelight dinner. “Thank you.”
He laughs, reaching across the table for my hand, brushing his fingers across my knuckles. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” I whisper, feeling the gentle squeeze of his hand.
Everything is quiet again as we enjoy our dinner. It’s delicious … the roast is tender, falling apart in my mouth. The potatoes and carrots are seasoned to perfection. It’s really the best thing I’ve tasted in a really long time.
“I make this for my sisters all the time. It’s the one thing besides grilled cheese that they’ll both eat.”
“Yeah, what are their names by the way?”
He’s talked about them here and there, but he’s never called them by their names.
“Tessa and Quinn.”
“Tell me about them. Are they anything like you?”
He hesitates, eyes focused on his half-eaten plate. If he would just open up … “Tessa is the younger one. She’s eleven now. She likes basketball, but other than that, she’s a typical girl. Boys, shoes, and an incredibly large collection of clothes. Quinn is fifteen, and she’s a little more complex. I guess you could say she’s the female version of me: stubborn and driven.”