Jessa
As I sit in my bedroom, typing away at a new short story I’ve been working on, I keep one ear peeled for the sounds of my parents getting ready for bed. It’s a little after ten o’clock, what I like to call the “magic hour” when my mom and dad hit the hay like clockwork. Ever since I started conducting my social life on the sly back in high school, ten o’clock has come to be the hour at which my daily dose of freedom begins. It’s not like my parents can give me a curfew or stop me from coming and going as I please now that I’m an adult, but they still have more sway over my life than I might like, since I’m living in their house. Better to play it safe. The less they know about my life, the better.
I sit up as I hear my parents’ bedroom door close for the night. They’re both heavy sleepers, thank god. Never once have I been caught in the act of leaving the house late at night. I’ve become something of an expert in the art of keeping things from them out of necessity. A lot of my tricks I inherited from Allison. She may have been the perfect daughter during the day, but she had her fair share of fun after dark, too. She and I may be different in many ways, but we’re fiercely bonded after weathering a childhood under our father’s conservative thumb. Sisters have to stick together that way.
As I throw on some street clothes and apply some light makeup, I realize that I’m about to experience my first college outing. It shouldn’t feel like that big of a deal, since I spent the last year dancing in Spanish bars and bumming cigarettes from my fellow WOOFing volunteers, but I suppose it’s still a rite of passage. Blaire is taking me to a local bar to see a friend’s band play, by way of some big frat party or something. She and I have gotten pretty close these last couple of weeks, what with all the work we’ve been doing in the university garden together. I was surprised that she’d be interested in greek life at all, given her disdain for college football. But it turns out Blaire likes a good party more than she dislikes the trappings of college life. And besides, the frat party is just a pit stop before we see the band play.
Swiping on my favorite red lipstick (that my parents would most definitely disapprove of) I find myself wondering if I’ll run into Dean Carter at this shindig. He and I haven’t crossed paths since that one day a couple of weeks ago, when he nearly bulldozed our garden. I’ve seen the football team practicing from afar, of course. And I’ve heard all about him from my dad at the dinner table as he regales my mom and me with infinite details about football practice.
“The quarterback, Parker Royce, he’s an upstanding kid,” Dad informed us over dinner the other night. “Good family, good manners. I’m not too fond of our wide receiver, Bryan Wallace. He’s a bit of an urchin, but I suppose he gets the job done on the field. Then there’s our running back, Dean Carter.”
I’d almost dropped my fork when I heard Dean’s name spoken at our dinner table. Almost as if I felt guilty… but for what? Maybe, possibly, having a dirty thought or two about him as I fall asleep at night? OK, a very dirty thought or two…
“What about him, hun?” Mom prompted, cutting her food into tiny pieces.
“I can’t get much of a read on him,” Dad said, spearing a hunk of pork chop, “He’s not deferential, like some of the other players.”
You mean he doesn’t take your shit, I thought to myself. I like him even more now.
“The other players seem to respect him quite a bit,” Dad had gone on, “I’d say he’s got more sway with them than Royce, the quarterback. Hopefully that never becomes a problem.”
“God. Of course the classic All American Boy Quarterback is your favorite,” I laughed, shaking my head.
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain at my table,” Dad snapped back. “And so what if I like a good, clean-cut boy on my team?”
“By clean-cut, do you actually mean super wealthy and super white?” I replied, taking a bite of greens.
“Don’t pester your father, dear,” Mom warned, “He’s had a long day.”
“Just making an observation,” I shrugged.
“Well, maybe you should learn to keep your observations to yourself,” Dad said coolly, “You’re never gonna find a husband who can tolerate you with that mouth of yours.”
“The great tragedy of my life,” I muttered, pushing away my plate.
I probably just make matters worse for myself by antagonizing my dad, but I can’t help it. Some of his ideas are so outdated and backwards that I just can’t let them lie. I know he’s probably too stuck in his ways to ever change the way he sees things, but his narrow views about other people can be hurtful. Especially since he seems to think that a woman’s main goal in life should be finding a man who can merely tolerate her.
I shake off all thoughts of my dad as I give my blonde hair a tousle and grab my purse. This party couldn’t be better timed. Since I’ve been back home, I’ve barely spent time with anyone but my parents. I need to start meeting other people in this new environment before I lose my damn mind in this house.
Quiet as a church mouse, I ease open my bedroom window and step out onto the overhanging roof. I lower myself down onto the trellis that stands against the front porch and drop, cat-like, onto the front lawn. Brushing off my hands, I let a smile play across my lips as I take in a breath that tastes like freedom. I set off though the campus, letting the far off sound of blasting music lead me toward the party like a moth to the flame.
Let the first night of my college experience commence.
Dean
I plant my hands on the wooden table as a gorgeous Delta Phi girl grins up at me. She’s flat on her back wearing nothing but a denim mini-skirt and bikini top. A crowd jostles all around us, cheering me on as another girl pours a shot down her friend’s toned torso. I lower my mouth to her perfect skin, taking the body shot like a champ. She squeals delightedly as my lips and tongue trace along her abs. God, I’ve missed this place.
The second the Red Birds arrived on the Greek Row scene, the entire night shifted our way. This school takes its football, and its football players, very seriously. Everyone wants to make sure we have everything we need to kill it on the field. Whether that’s a good lay, the answers to a midterm exam, or a six pack. The Rayburn community knows how to take care of its star football players. And these days, there’s no bigger star on this campus than me.
I lick a drop of tequila from the corner of my mouth and accept a few high fives as I take my way to the next sorority house with Buck at my side. No use lingering in one place too long. Tonight is all about seeing and being seen. Up ahead at the next house, I see Parker Royce and a couple of our other offensive linemen chatting up the girls of Sigma Nu, the sorority that most of our cheerleaders belong to. Parker has his arm around Esther Lee, the gorgeous Korean-American head cheerleader. I grin wryly at the scene. Of course he’s staked out the captain of the cheerleading squad, being the captain of the football team himself. He thinks they deserve each other. That he deserves her, automatically. I guess it’s fine, since she seems to be enjoying herself. But still, his fucking high and mighty attitude is hard to stomach.
“Here they are,” Parker roars, welcoming the rest of us as if this were his house. Parker would never stoop to living in a dorm or a frat house. His parents straight up bought him a house of his own off campus when he started here. Because of course they did.
“Hey guys,” Esther says, coming up to give me and Buck quick, friendly hugs as we approach—which Parker just loves seeing.
“Pretty good crowd,” I observe, looking around the packed lawn.
“Yeah, well,” Esther laughs, flicking her raven hair over her shoulder, “That’s what you get when your sorority is made up of just about every cheerleader in the school. Speaking of which, Crash, I want you to meet someone.”
Esther beckons another girl over to our group. She’s a tall, slender girl with auburn hair hanging in perfect waves. She could easily be a runway model. She’s got her fuck-me eyes turned up to eleven, and they’re pointed in my direction.
&
nbsp; “Crash, this is Noel,” Esther says, “She’s a transfer from UCLA. And she’s also our newest varsity cheerleader.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Noel smiles, revealing a sexy gap between her two front teeth.
“Nice to meet you too,” I tell her, “How do you like Rayburn so far?”
“Better and better every minute,” she purrs, looking me up and down with hunger in her eyes. Hey, I respect a lady who knows what she wants.
Before I can reply, something catches my eye over Noel’s shoulder. Or rather, someone. The girl from the garden, Jessa, is walking down the center of the street, chatting with a friend. She’s wearing that same pair of sexy high-waisted daisy dukes, a black crop top, and a flannel shirt tied around her waist. Her blonde hair is messily tousled, and her red lips are pulled into a smile as she jokes with her friend. I haven’t been able to get a good look at this girl since I nearly collided with her the other day, but fuck if she hasn’t been on my mind. And now that I’ve got her in my sights again, no way am I about to let her slip away.
“See you guys later,” I say to Noel and Esther, stepping around them in pursuit of Jessa. I hear Noel mutter something disappointedly as I go, but what can I say? I’m a man who knows what he wants, too. Besides, the second I step away, Buck slips an arm over Noel’s shoulders. No way will she be lonely tonight with Bryan Wallace around.
I grab a couple of beers from a cooler on Sigma Nu’s lawn and stride into the street. My body lights up as Jessa walks toward me, looking around at the wild party. As she turns her eyes in my direction, I feel of shock of energy go straight through my gut. Goddamn. Every move she makes is hitting me like a bolt of lightning. I’ve never felt so keyed up around a girl before… But I don’t hate it. I’m the kind of guy who likes to face a storm head-on. And whatever storm is brewing between me and Jessa is no exception.
“Hey,” I say to her, closing the space between us.
“Hey yourself,” she says, her blue-greens eyes gleaming.
“You ladies look like you could use a drink,” I say, holding out the beers to Jessa and her redheaded friend.
“Thanks,” Jessa says, taking the cool bottle from my hand.
“Aren’t you the guy who almost ran us over the other day?” the redhead asks, lifting a shaped eyebrow at me.
I regard the redhead, a suicide girl type dressed in vintage clothes and made up like a 1950’s pinup. She’s looking at me like I’m a six-foot-tall cockroach, but I just smile back at her. We football players may be the gods of this campus, but that doesn’t mean there’s not an atheist or two in the student body.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I chuckle, “My buddy Bryan way trying to throw me a pass, but he’s no quarterback.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what that means,” the redhead drawls.
Jessa catches my eye and smiles apologetically for her friend’s chilly reception. I give her a little shrug, telling her it’s cool. I’m amazed at how much we can communicate with just a few gestures. It’s like we’re on the same wave length or something.
“You guys hanging around here for a while?” I ask the pair.
“We were actually about to go check out this show downtown,” Jessa tells me, “Blaire knows this band that’s playing there.”
“Oh. Cool,” I nod, though of course I’m disappointed not to get more time with Jessa tonight. She looks a little put out to be leaving so early, too.
“Actually, do you mind if I meet you there?” Jessa says to Blaire, “I wanna finish this beer and soak in a little more of the campus scene.”
“Yeah, sure,” Blaire shrugs, “Observe the wildlife all you want. You know where the bar is, right?”
“Uh huh,” Jessa replies, “I’ll see you in a sec.”
Blaire gives me one last suspicious look and continues on her way. Jessa and I are alone together at last. Or at least, that’s how it feels. We may be completely surrounded by drunken party goers, but for all I care we’re the only two people in the world.
“Sorry about that,” Jessa says to me, twisting off the top of her beer, “Blaire isn’t exactly a football fan.”
“Yeah, I got that impression,” I grin, opening the other beer for myself. “But hey, that’s her prerogative.”
“Guess so,” Jessa says, keeping her eyes on me as she takes a sip. I have to remind myself to breath as she brings her full lips to the mouth of the bottle, wrapping them around the dewy glass.
“What about you?” I ask, my voice suddenly husky. “Are you a football fan?”
“I’m… pretty familiar with the game,” she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“So I’m guessing the football team wasn’t what brought you to this school?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” she replies, “I’m studying creative writing. And education, technically, but I’d like to be a writer someday.”
“Cool,” I nod. She definitely seems like the creative type. I can dig that.
“What are you majoring in?” she asks.
I can’t help but let out a chuckle.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh,” I tell her, “It’s just, no one ever asks me that.”
“Why not?” she asks, cocking her head.
“Cause I don’t need a major,” I inform her, “I’m going pro after college.”
“You are, are you?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Damn right,” I tell her, “Just as soon as I turn in a couple national championships for Rayburn, I’ll be a lock for the NFL. I’m gonna play ball for as long as my body will let me.”
“That’s a pretty dark way to put it,” she observes.
“I don’t see it that way,” I shrug, “Football’s my entire life. I don’t mind giving it everything I have.”
The corners of her mouth turn down ever-so-slightly at that.
“What’s the matter?” I ask her.
“Nothing,” she mutters, shaking her head, “That just… Doesn’t sound like a very full life, is all. What about friends? Family?”
“The team are my friends. And my family,” I tell her. “See? Everything’s just in one neat package is all.”
“I guess so,” she allows.
“You don’t seem convinced,” I smile.
“You don’t need to convince me of anything,” she replies, “You don’t even know me.”
“But I’d like to,” I tell her, taking a step forward, “You wanna go somewhere a little quieter and talk?”
“Where do you have in mind?” she asks, eyeing me with an even mix of curiosity and wariness. Not that I blame her. I am a stranger, after all.
“Nowhere special,” I say.
“Well, I have to go meet Blaire,” she reminds me, “But… Maybe you could walk me down to the bar?”
I drain the rest of my beer and chuck the bottle into the nearest garbage can.
“Lead the way.”
Jessa
It takes a minute for me to remember how to form full sentences in Dean’s presence, but by the time we reach the other side of our college town, I’ve just about recovered my senses. I’m not the type to get all tongue-tied around guys. Or at least, I thought I wasn’t. But this guy in particular is making my brain go all haywire.
“I don’t know anyone else who’s taken a year off before school,” Dean observes, as I tell him about my travels in Spain.
“I think everyone should do it, personally,” I reply, “It was the best experience of my life, hands down.”
“You like to travel, huh?” he asks.
“I love it,” I tell him, “I’ll probably try to study abroad while I’m here at Rayburn.”
“You want to get away from campus life already?” he laughs, “You just got here!”
“I mostly just want to get away from my parents,” I reply before I can catch myself.
“Your parents?” Dean asks, “But… Haven’t you already gotten away from them by going off to school?”
I sigh, pausing on the sidewalk o
utside the bar where Blaire’s friends are playing. I guess there was no way I was going to be able to keep my identity a secret forever. I’ve been careful not to come or go onto campus with my dad, or interact with him when we’re both there. But it’s not like my secret’s going to stay under wraps once school starts. No use in trying to hide it.
“Actually, I still live with my parents,” I tell Dean.
“Oh,” he says, “So you’re a commuter, then?”
“Uh. No…” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets, “My dad works for the school.”
“He’s a professor?”
“A coach.”
“Huh. For what sport?” Dean asks, cocking his head.
“You really don’t know who I am?” I ask him.
He just shakes his head.
“Damn. And you were annoyed with me for not knowing who you were when we first met,” I laughs softly, shaking my head. “I guess this is what happens when you’re only on a first name basis.”
“What’re you—?”
“My full name is Jessa Cahill,” I finally tell Dean, “As in Nathan Cahill’s daughter.”
Dean stares back at me, as if trying to decide whether I’m pranking him or not. When he realizes I’m seriously, he lets out a deep sigh.
“Well,” he says, “That’s…”
“Yeah.”
“How can someone as cool as you have such a bastard for a dad?”
I laugh at his unexpected comment. “Whoa! Why don’t you tell us how you really feel?”
“Sorry, was that too harsh?” he asks with a smile.
“Hell no,” I tell him, “My dad’s a huge pain in my ass.”
“So I’m guessing that means you don’t care what he thinks?” Dean goes on.
Beauty and the Running Back Page 3