by J. Nichole
I release his hand and look into his dark brown eyes and nod my head. “Nice to meet you, Dante.”
He points to the seats and I follow behind him. My questions flow, starting with his alma mater, University of Florida, his love of water sports, and his philanthropic work for underprivileged youth. “You’ve done your research.” He gazes at me then says, “Impressive.”
My stomach turns a few loops as I know I have a line of questions that isn’t going to come out as impressive. “Last season, you had a career high record in …” I look at my notebook as I try to recall the stat.
Dante laughs and says, “Rushing yards. A career high in rushing yards.”
“Sorry.” I sigh. “I am not well versed in football terminology.”
“It’s cool. I’ll forgive you for that.” He places his hand on my pen that is tapping continuously on my notepad.
"Let's just say you are an excellent running back. I'm more intrigued by your life off the field. How do you feel about Jacksonville? Do you spend the off season here or somewhere else?"
“As long as you promise you won’t go into sports journalism, I’ll let you divert the conversation.” He smiles widely. “Jacksonville is okay. I’m just glad I’m still in Florida.”
Dante tells me about some of his favorite restaurants in Jacksonville and then tells me about his favorite after hour spots. As we wrap up, I stand and he offers to walk me to the entrance, so I'm not lost in the maze of walkways through the stadium.
“What are your plans after you graduate?” Although Dante is making more money than I could even know what to do with I remind myself that he is only a couple of years older than me.
“I’m hoping I have at least an offer here at the magazine, but not sure I’ll be returning to Jacksonville if I have other options.”
He nods his head and says, “Well I hope you have options but Jacksonville wouldn’t be that bad off if you returned here.”
I thank him again and turn to take the exit out of the stadium. He grabs my hand and I turn around and look at him with anticipation.
“Laila, I’d like to take you out before you head back to school.”
I breathe and try to compose myself as I consider his offer. In all my digging into his background I didn’t find anything about a recent girlfriend. “Sure, I’d like that.” His hand leaves mine and reaches around to my back, roaming as he starts to lean into me. His other hand goes up the front of my shirt and when it finds a place under my bra he kisses me. He deepens our kiss and as I get lost in the moment I hear a camera flash.
He shouts, “What the fuck.” Turning to me, he apologizes, then whispers in my ear, “I’ll get your info from our PR department. Let me take care of these dudes. When I turn around, walk through that door.” He nods towards a door and I walk away as soon as he turns his back.
Chapter Five
“How. The. Hell. Did you manage to snatch a kiss from Dante Jones?” Nicole shouts into the phone. Dante’s effort to rid the image of him kissing me was an epic failure.
"I interviewed him and he was polite. We may have been flirting.” I roll my eyes as I think about how Isaiah will feel after he finds out about the kiss.
“Being polite my ass. Being polite would be complying with the interview. Flirting would be shooting his shot. Getting your phone number.” She laughs. “Kissing you as if y’all were alone in a bedroom is a bit different.”
“I know. But this story that they printed is much worse.” I stare at my computer screen trying to understand who would write a story with little to no truth.
“They make you sound like a kid. Like he was molesting you on the playground or something.” Nicole sighs. “Have you talked to him?”
“No, but I’m sure he’s seen this story.”
My phone is beeping with text alerts and I can only imagine what everyone has to say about the image splashed across social media. I’ve yet to hear from my parents, but I should probably give them the story before they find out about it on their own.
“Guess there isn’t anything to say. But how was that kiss?” She gaffs into the phone. “Hell, it had me hot and bothered.”
“Girl.” I hang up the phone with Nicole, promising to call her as soon as I hear anything else from Dante, and I take a deep breath before dialing the number to the intern coordinator.
“Hello.” Her singsong voice turns apprehensive after she realizes it’s me. “Laila. I’m glad you called.”
The explanation I had prepared falls short and I can only say, “I was not expecting him to kiss me.”
"Listen, your life outside of the magazine is your business, and for this assignment, it isn't that big of a deal. But just know, one day, your relationship with the subject of an article could call into question your integrity and perspective." I hear her typing before she says, “And Laila, do you have any idea who would want to ruin his reputation?”
“No. Not at all.” I’m sure the fact that he works with underprivileged youth caused them to exaggerate our age difference.
“And Laila be careful. There are only a handful of celebrities in this town. Whoever has it out for him obviously was able to get the attention of the newspaper. It’ll stay newsworthy till it’s debunked." I hear her warning loud and clear. It's not my intention to date Dante. Going out with him will be a one-time thing.
I place my head in my hands as I dial home to speak to my parents. My dad answers the phone, “Laila Jackson.” My full name? Guess he’s heard already. Then my mom is in the background praying to God.
“Dad. The kiss was nothing. But there was someone nearby who took a picture. And you know how people are these days. Before I could even get back to the dorms the picture was on social media.”
“What do you mean the kiss was nothing? I damn near blushed when I saw that picture. And didn’t you go there for an interview?”
“Yes, he kissed me as I was leaving.”
"Not professional, Laila. You are supposed to be at that internship to have a place to work when you graduate. When you graduate, you will be out of my pocket, and need to make your own money." How could he possibly turn this around to talk about money? Wait. Of course, it's my dad. Everything is about money.
"I know dad. It was out of my control. Can I talk to mom?"
My mother grabs the phone and says, “Laila. You need to be careful. You don’t want to be connected to a football player. Do you?” She calls out to God a few more times and then says, “Laila, what are you going to do? I know that you are not a kid, but anyone else in the world may think you are some hormone-raged kid. Worse, that he is some pedophile.”
“I don’t know, mom. I’ll have to try to figure out who would put out that lie.”
“Well call me later. I need to keep tabs on you.”
“Mom, Dante Jones is not a serial killer. I don’t have some stalker following behind me.”
“Laila…”
Before she can call me by my full name, I interrupt her and say, "Alright, mom. I'll call you later tonight. Love you."
I check my many text messages and disregard most of them until I see one I wasn’t prepared to see.
Josh: Dante Jones? Is that the guy you are dating?
I should give him a call, but instead, I type out a text reply. After reading it, I realize a call would be easier to explain.
"Hey, Josh."
Although I'm sure he is upset I can't tell by his voice. I think he could be smiling.
“Laila. I thought hearing your voice would make me upset. But strangely, I’m not.”
“I tried to text you back. But it was harder than I thought. Anyway, I’m not dating Dante Jones.” Which doesn’t sound much better than me randomly kissing him. “I interviewed him, and after the interview he kissed me.” Sounds innocent.
“I’m not worried about that. Honestly. I’m more worried about how I felt when I was thinking you could be getting serious with someone else right now.”
"I feel like our timing is
always, always, off. Right now I'm not trying to be serious at all. Especially not with any of these guys here in Jacksonville."
“You’re right … our timing is always off. I was hoping this time we could sync up, but it looks like we may miss the boat again.”
A lump catches in my throat and I feel tears threatening to fall. “I wouldn’t count us out just yet.”
“Thanks for calling. I should get going though.” I hang up the phone and close my eyes. That conversation was almost as tough as my last conversation with Chris. To think I still haven’t even spoken to Isaiah yet.
In the midst of all this drama, I almost forgot I have to draft the interview in preparation for the magazine. Turning off my phone I zone into my computer and review my notes from the interview. Thinking about Dante's life off the field, he seems like a decent guy, and he certainly had a humble spirit. He could have easily been overly cocky and conceited, but instead he was easy-going.
As I begin to type, I focus on his life as a Jacksonville resident, mentioning his favorite eateries and party spots. I wrap the article up with what Jaguar fans can expect from him next season. I can only hope by the time this article is released whoever planted the story is ousted and the truth revealed. I’m tempted to update my article byline with my age.
Someone knocking on the dorm door snaps me back to the here and now. When I open the door, a delivery man is standing there with an armful of stuff blocking his face. He pokes his head around a vase full of roses and says, "I'm looking for Lala Jackson."
I raise my brow and correct him by saying, “It’s Laila, and that’s me.”
“Where’d you like me to sit this? I need you to sign.”
The dorm furniture is scarce but there is a table near the door, and I point towards the table as I take the clipboard to sign the receipt.
After he finishes I close the door behind him. I dig through the flowers and find a card. I rip open the envelope, being careful not to tear the inner card.
Thanks for the interview.
Sorry about the story.
Not sorry about the kiss.
Dante
How’d he get my address? I open the box of candy and eat a milk chocolate truffle. The chocolate melts on my tongue and I close my eyes as I enjoy the piece of heaven disguised as candy. This candy alone is enough to bribe someone into giving Dante my address. Looking down at the box of candy I ignore my desire to scarf down each of the eleven remaining pieces at once.
Instead of indulging I sit on the bed and dial Isaiah’s number before I lose my sugar induced strength. “I take it the interview went extremely well.”
“It did go well.” This is the reason people text instead of call. Discussing this with Isaiah is awkward.
“Are we still on for our plans tonight?”
"Definitely, what were you thinking?" I'm glad he can change the subject.
“I could use some adventure in my life. How about go-karts?” Isaiah sounds excited as he talks about beating me in a race around the track. He also adds that he’ll beat me in the arcade games, and I’m just happy he doesn’t mention anything else about the interview.
After hanging up with Isaiah to get dressed for our date, I nibble on another truffle. I feel guilty for enjoying the chocolate this much, but it wouldn't make sense to let it go to waste.
One last glance in the mirror and I’m ready for Isaiah. My phone rings in unison with knocks at the door. The number on the phone is unknown, and I send it to voicemail as I open the door. “Hey, Laila.” Dante is leaning against the door with his phone to his ear. He brings the phone down and says, “I was trying to call to make sure this was the right door.”
I stare at his phone for a minute before I realize I haven’t greeted him. “Ugh, hey Dante.”
His eyes are settled on my face and he smiles widely. “Were you on your way out?” Looking at the purse on my shoulder he continues, “This is probably awkward, right?”
I nod my head slowly. This is more than awkward for multiple reasons. “Why are you here?” The intern coordinator’s voice is ringing in my head. Nothing good could come of this situation with Dante. I should stay as far away from him as possible. Besides, I’d hate for another picture to get out or the story to be elaborated more. I’m sure his visit to a college dorm room won’t help his case much.
At that moment I decide it’s best he doesn’t stand in the hall for too long. I turn and lock the door, leading him towards the exit.
“I owe you an apology,” he says as he walks beside me with little effort to keep my pace.
“Yeah, thanks for the flowers and chocolates. You didn’t have to come in person.” I look up at him and ignore his brown eyes. Looking into them is hypnotizing. “By the way, do I even want to know how you know where I live?” I laugh nervously. “That has to be some sort of violation of privacy.”
He looks at me seriously and says, “Do you feel violated?” He reaches out to touch my arm and I snatch it away.
“Actually, I do.”
“Laila!” This day couldn’t get any worse. “I thought that was you. I was just at your door and you didn’t answer.”
Dante and I both look up at Isaiah coming towards us from my dorm door. He recognizes Dante when he gets closer. Looking between us, Isaiah finally asks, “What’s going on?”
Dante looks at Isaiah. He looks to me. Then he curses under his breath. “Hey man, I’m sorry.” He looks at me and whispers the same. When I don’t say anything he walks away, shaking his head.
“I’m sure there is a girl somewhere who wishes she could be me right now.” Isaiah cocks his eyebrow. “I’m not interested in a celebrity athlete. He came by to apologize and I was trying to get him away from my door before another picture ended up on social media.”
Isaiah grabs his chin and studies my face before he responds, “But it seems he may be interested in more than just an apology.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I start walking towards the parking lot. "It's possible." Dante's interest is out of my control. I would have been flattered if his popping up where I stay didn't freak me out. "Ready to get whipped in this go-kart race?"
Isaiah grabs my arm and stops walking. “Laila, I like you. I’m not sure if I want to be wrapped up in celebrity gossip though.”
“I get it. It’s a little unnerving.”
Isaiah lowers his head. “Maybe another night?” he asks.
I reach up and hug his neck before I turn to walk away.
Chapter Six
Lying in my bed, I hold the phone close to my ear. "I couldn't have imagined any of this in a million years. Just last week you had Josh and Isaiah fawning over you. Your week is capped off by a kiss from a sexy ass football player." I called Monica hoping she could cheer me up, but why I'm staying on the phone while she finds this comical is beyond me. "Then in a blink, you lose Josh, Isaiah, and the football player." She muffles her laugh.
“Really? Really Monica?” She can’t stop laughing and I tell her, “I’m going to go start on your task list since I have nothing better to do on a Saturday night.” I groan.
“Girl, please, one of them will get over himself. But in the meantime I’m glad you can get started. Only a few more weeks until we are back on campus and shit will get real.”
“True. Before I let you go, have you talked to Jennifer lately?” Jennifer, our other roommate, didn’t have a good sophomore year. After her ex-boyfriend, who raped her in high school, raped another girl last year, she wasn’t excited about returning home for summer. But staying on campus didn’t appeal to her either.
“Yeah, actually she’s coming back to school early.” I’m not surprised that she would return to school early. “Tired of faking it around her old friends, so she says.”
“Maybe I can send her some of these tasks.” I roll over and stare at the printed list of tasks that Monica sent over for me to complete in preparation for her bid as Junior Class president. “I could use some help. Alright chick, thanks for n
ot cheering me up.” I lie.
“Wait, before you go. Have you heard from Chris?”
“Damn, you would bring him up.” If Chris and I were still together I wouldn’t be worried about all these other guys. “Nothing. Not a text, not an email, not a Facebook message. Nothing.”
“Only God knows what’s going on with that man. You’ll be good though. I’m praying for you.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll talk to you later.”
The first item on Monica’s list is to find events for the junior class to participate in throughout the year. I pull out my laptop and start typing out a list of potential activities; community events, career fairs, sporting events we could attend as a class.
Before I move on to the next item on her list I start a text message to Chris. Although he hasn’t reached out to me, I haven’t reached out to him either.
Laila: Long time no speak. I hope all is well with you.
I want to be honest with him and tell him how much I miss him and I hate that I haven't heard from him for several months. But reaching out to him first is hard enough.
As time passes without a response from him my emotions change from hurt to pissed. I can’t sit in the room. I should be out enjoying my Saturday night. I dial Timmy’s number, hoping he is out having fun and I can meet him.
“You slut!” I didn’t expect that greeting from him. “I couldn’t believe what I saw scrolling across my timeline today. Dante Jones kissing you!”
“Yeah, in hindsight, I guess I should have taken you with me to the interview. Maybe that wouldn’t have happened.”
His laugh roars through the phone. “Laila. You are the strangest chick I know. You don’t care about guys doting on you, don’t want a famous football player kissing you.” His tone changes. “Are you a virgin?” He gasps. “No, don’t tell me you are a virgin!”