Roughing

by Jillian Quinn

  I curl up with a pillow and smile. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m pretty tired.”

  He walks away from the bed, about to flip the light switch when I stop him.

  “Bash, do you think you can call the team doctor for me? So that I can get looked at again.”

  “Right now?” He turns around to face me, his hand still next to the light switch. “Are you feeling sick again?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. It can wait until the morning.”

  “Of course. Get some sleep, and I’ll call Doc when I wake up.”

  “Thanks,” I say, unable to keep my eyes open. “Night, Bash.”

  He smiles, then flips the switch, leaving my room in darkness. “Night, Queenie.”

  “Stop calling me that,” I say, my voice tired and weak.

  Hugging the pillow tight against me, I take in the scent of my laundry detergent and drift off to sleep, thinking about Bash. This time they are good thoughts.

  Chapter 4

  Bash

  The couch in Tori’s dorm suite is harder than the fucking floor. I’m shocked that I managed to get any sleep. It was like curling up on stone slabs. After a few hours of trying to sleep, I thought about going home and coming back later. But I was afraid that something might happen, and with Jessica staying the night at my house with Clay, I didn’t want to leave Tori alone.

  After I wash my face and rinse the taste from my mouth, I make a pot of coffee. It’s nine o’clock in the morning and late enough that I can call Dr. Holland to treat Tori. I’m worried about her. I’ve been through my fair share of concussions, and I know firsthand how rough it can be until it passes.

  I remove my cell phone from my pocket and call Doc. Everyone on the team has him on speed dial after all the issues we’ve had over the years. He answers on the third ring and promises to come soon after I explain the situation with Tori.

  Stirring sugar into my coffee, I finish my call with Doc, and then shove the phone back into my pocket. When I turn around, Tori opens her bedroom door, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She lowers her arm from her face and locks onto me, shocked to see me. Tori just stares, unblinking. I bet she thought I would bail because that’s the man she thinks I am.

  I lean my back against the counter and take a sip from my mug, appraising her, before handing her my coffee. She takes it from my hand without a word and chugs the rest of it down in one gulp.

  “More,” she grunts, shoving the cup into my chest.

  Tori looks like hell with her hair sticking up in different directions, mascara streaks under her eyes, and what looks like dried slobber in the corner of her mouth. But she’s still beautiful. A hot mess I’d still bend over this counter and lose myself with her…In her.

  I make us each a coffee and tip my mug to hers, the ceramic clanging together in the silent room. Tori walks away without a word and sinks into the thin cushions of the gray microfiber couch in the living room, burying her head in the pillows. “I feel like a truck ran over my head and kept backing up over it all night.”

  I laugh at her theatrics. She was always a drama queen. “I called Dr. Holland for you. He should be here within the hour.” I take a sip and then lean over to set the mug on the table. “I’ll stay with you until he leaves if you’re okay with that.”

  She lets out a big gulp of air but doesn’t speak.

  I sit at the opposite end of the sofa, lean my elbow on the arm, and turn on the flat screen on the wall. After flipping through Netflix for ten minutes without finding anything she likes, Tori sets her mug on the table and crawls over to me. Her gesture isn’t meant to be seductive. But the way she looks at me, on all fours and her breasts spilling out her shirt, make it hard for me to think of anything other than sex.

  “Give me,” she demands, snatching the remote from my hand. “You have never had good taste in movies.”

  I chuckle as she makes herself comfortable next to me as if she forgot that she hates me. “Hey, that’s not true. I have excellent taste in movies.”

  “Says the guy who likes Spider Man 3,” she deadpans, her eyes focused on the TV and a sly smirk on her lips.

  “That was a good movie,” I spit back, defensive.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “You just proved my point. Horrible taste. You also think Tron is a good movie. I guess that’s because you’re a jock who wouldn’t know a good movie.”

  “Oh, so I’m just some dumb jock now? You should know me well enough to realize that’s not true. We were in the same classes, have the same major, and have the same grade point average. The only difference is I play football, and you hate sports and any activity that involves socializing”

  I take another sip, the warm liquid running down my throat. Peeking out the corner of my eye, I can see the scowl forming on her lips.

  “I am not anti-social,” she says, angry. “Just because you’re the King of Strickland University doesn’t make me the weird girl who’s afraid to talk to people.” She sits up straight and points her nose up at the ceiling. “I will have you know I am very social.”

  “Is that so?” What was the last party you went to?”

  “Yours, you jackass.” The smirk returns to her lips.

  Duh! She’s got me there.

  “You know what I meant, smart ass.”

  She flips through the shows on the TV, ignoring me for a minute before she gives up her search and hands the remote back to me. “Here, put on whatever you want. I’m sick of looking, and I’ve watched most these already.”

  “It’s your place, not mine. You should pick the movie. You know, since I have such bad taste.” I say the last part with an impish grin.

  Saved by the knock on the door, I get up to let Dr. Holland into the apartment. We exchange the usual pleasantries, and he takes a seat next to Tori on the couch.

  “How are you feeling, Victoria?”

  I used to tell her that she was my queen since her name is Victoria, hence the nickname Queenie. Lame, I know. It was something I said when I was half-lit and trying to get into her pants. She hates it, always has, but I think she secretly likes it. With a last name like Prince, it seemed fitting. She used to call me her Prince Charming, joking around, and that was always my comeback. The name ended up sticking.

  She’s the only girl I’ve cared for since I stepped foot on this campus three years ago. At one time, I was madly in love with her. But I had to move on.

  I watch as Dr. Holland evaluates Tori. He shines a light in her eyes, tells her to follow his finger, and performs all the usual tests to check cognitive function.

  “I don’t see any causes for concern, but you will need to get some rest. The only way to give your brain the time you need to recover is to spend the rest of the weekend off your feet and in bed. Do you have anyone who can take care of you? I’d feel better if someone were with you just in case.”

  She shakes her head. “No, my roommate is spending the weekend with her boyfriend, and my family lives in Pittsburgh.”

  “I can stay with her,” I say.

  Tori shoots daggers in my direction. Her lip curls up at me in revulsion. “No, I don’t think so, Bash. I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “You heard what Doc said,” I challenge, moving closer to command her attention. “Doctor’s orders.”

  She pretends as though I don’t exist and turns her head toward the TV.

  “Even though you hate me, you will need me to stay with you.” I stand in front of her and wait for her to look up at me. “I’ve been through this more times than I can count. Trust me.”

  “I don’t trust you,” she snaps back.

  “I would consider Bash’s offer,” Dr. Holland adds. “If you start to display any of the more serious symptoms of a concussion, you will need someone to take you to the hospital.”

  Tori slides her hand behind her head, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answer to her dilemma. “I guess Bash can hang out for a while, as long as he doesn’t annoy me too much.”

 
; “So, it’s settled,” Dr. Holland says, placing his medical instruments back into his bag. “Take care of yourself Victoria. Make sure you drink plenty of fluids and get some rest. Don’t drink or do any strenuous activities. I’d prefer if you stay inside for the next two days, if possible.”

  “That won’t be an issue,” she says, propping herself up on the arm of the couch as she tucks her feet under her.

  Dr. Holland looks at me as he stands, and I follow suit. “Bash, call me if anything changes with Victoria.”

  When I open the door for Doc, he lingers in the entryway, hesitating. He lowers his voice to an almost whisper. “Make sure she follows my instructions. She seems a bit headstrong, and people like that make the worst patients. You know better than anyone that not following doctor’s orders can lead to complications.”

  I nod. “Yes, I do. That’s why I plan to sit by Tori’s side until she’s feeling better, even if she doesn’t want me here.”

  “Good.” He flashes a quick smile. “I’m glad to hear it. Like I said, call me if anything changes. As long as Victoria gets some rest, I think she will be just fine by the start of class on Monday.”

  I slap a hand on his back. “Thanks again, Doc. I’ll take good care of her.”

  He nods without another word and disappears into the crowded hallway. The weekends on campus are always insane, with some people still up from the night before and drunk out of their skulls. I’m one of them when it’s not football season. But I have to be in the zone, and that means keeping my partying to a minimum.

  Once upon a time, my dad was a professional football player. He played quarterback for the Redskins back in the day, long before he blew out his knee. He was at the end of his career when it happened, but he still crawls up my ass about conditioning and being in game-ready shape. Now, he’s a sports announcer for ESPN and is never home. But he always finds the time to call and tell me what I need to do better or how I can improve my game.

  So, the most partying I can do on the weekends is drinking a few beers, at best. I take football serious. For as long as I can remember, my entire life has revolved around practice schedules, workouts, and games. My dad had molded me, so that he could turn me into the best running back in the league.

  If everything goes as planned, I should have a shot at the NFL. That’s why I have no room for error or distractions. Except I have one perched on the sofa, making my dick twitch. The skin-tight top Tori has on from last night clings to her petite, yet curvy frame.

  One of the things I always like most about Tori is her figure and her full, luscious tits. All I can think about is shoving my face between them as I take my place on the couch across from her. Hanging out with Tori for the next ten minutes will be hard with the semi growing in my pants, let alone another day or two, assuming she doesn’t kick me out before then.

  “I’m hungry.” She rubs her stomach with a sly grin. “If you’re going to be my caretaker, the least you can do is get me something to eat.”

  I shake my head, laughing. “You’re impossible, Queenie.”

  “I’m serious. As your first order of business as my nurse, you need to feed me.”

  “Cooking is not my thing. How about we go to the SAC instead? Are you feeling up to it?”

  “You expect me to be seen with you…in public?” She doesn’t even try to hide her disgust.

  I snicker. “You act like that’s a bad thing. Being seen with me can do wonders for your image.”

  “Been there, done that,” she deadpans. “It didn’t do a damn thing for me other than…” Her voice trails off, and without finishing her train of thought, I already have an idea of what she was about to say.

  I ruined her. I destroyed what we had. I made her the laughing stock of Strickland University. But I didn’t do it on purpose. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reverse any of the embarrassment or shame she felt after our breakup, even if I wanted to help take away her pain. Tori went into a deep depression, one that I’d watched unfold over time. That’s why I made a deal with her father, kept a secret from Tori, along with my distance.

  I’ve watched her from afar, made sure no one got too close, and now, it’s time to get her back. But how do I change her mind? She’s so tough and resilient. The girl sitting next to me is nothing like the one I once knew.

  “So, the SAC? Wanna go or what? Otherwise, you may starve to death.”

  A beat passes between us before she says, “Fine. We can go to the SAC. Let’s just get this over with, so I can come back and take a nap. I’m getting tired again.”

  When we reach the Student Activity Center, the intoxicating aroma of fried food welcomes us. We sift through the masses, pass the bookstore, and walk up a flight of stairs.

  Holding on to my arm, Tori whines, “You know, Bash, stairs count as strenuous activity. We’re only an hour in, and you’re already sucking as my nurse.”

  “I’m doing the best I can, woman. Just calm down. Steps do not count as strenuous activity. The last time I checked you weren’t a ninety-year-old woman and are capable of climbing a flight of steps.”

  “You’re fired,” she jokes, her smile reaching up to her big, blue eyes. “I should replace you with someone smarter and better looking.”

  “Better looking?” My tone indicates a question that I don’t expect her to answer.

  Now, she’s just trying to piss me off, a scare tactic to get me to leave. She can forget that. I plan to stay by her side until Monday morning if she’ll let me. I already have enough guilt on my conscience when it comes to Tori. The last thing I want to do is leave her sick and unattended when she needs someone most.

  With hundreds of people roaming around the SAC, we step inside the crowded cafeteria. I grab a tray from the stack and slide it down the metal counter. They have everything from burgers and fries to Chinese food, paired with a few leftover breakfast foods. Tori has her eye on the massive salad bar in the center of the buffet lines.

  “Do you want me to get you a salad?”

  “Nope,” she says, turning her head back to me. “I want chicken fingers.”

  “You had them last night.”

  She scowls at me. “What do you care? I like them.”

  “I’m just saying that you should eat something with more nutritional value than chicken fingers.”

  “You sound like my dad. And chicken is a food group.” She sticks her tongue out at me.

  “Technicality,” I say, shaking my head at her.

  As we move through the buffet, Tori places a paper carton of chicken tenders on the tray. Following her lead, I opt for a greasy cheesesteak wrapped in foil.

  “Why, Bash, how could you?” Tori holds her hand up to her mouth, widening her eyes in mock surprise. “What happened to food with nutritional value?”

  “Keep moving, smart ass,” I say, pushing the tray with my fingers. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me already.”

  She flashes a victorious smile as if she’s won a contest. At the rate we’re going, this will be one of the longest weekends of my life.

  I search the expanse of the hall for Clay, hoping he showed up with Jessica. But I catch someone else’s attention.

  Instead of Clay, I find Harper, smiling and waving at me. She reminds me of everything I hate. Everything I did to get to this point. I hate myself for allowing her to fuck with my life. But I hate myself more for making the stupid decisions that had forced me to go along with Harper’s agreement.

  Something about her has always provoked a sudden rage inside me. There used to be a bit of sexual tension laced with anger between us. Now, it’s just anger and resentment, or at least on my part.

  As Harper violates me with her eyes, I pretend not to see her. In desperate need of a distraction, I clutch Tori’s shoulder as we stand in line for the cash register.

  “Why are you touching me? Hands off,” Tori says, through clenched teeth.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Old habits, I guess.”

  She shakes m
e off. “Don’t let it happen again.”

  By the time I pay for our meals, Harper has vanished. Another minute of her gawking at me would lead to more problems. And I need to make things right with Tori.

  Crammed between hundreds of people, Clay raises his hand in the air to flag me down. He has on a navy blue Strickland Senators T-shirt that fits tight against his chest and shoulders, revealing the definition in his arms, and a pair of jeans. Clay is a big dude, built like an ox, but I have a few inches on him.

  “Tori,” Jessica calls out, waving. “About time you made it. I was getting ready to call you.”

  “We’re here. You can call off the search team.” Tori deadpans, feigning a smile.

  “You look like death. What happened to you?” Jessica’s eyes travel from Tori to me. She gives me a look of disgust as if I am the reason Tori is so disheveled.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I say to Jessica, annoyed. “I’m taking care of her until she gets better.”

  I make room between some of my teammates and set my tray across from Clay and Jessica.

  Tori sits next to me with a flustered sigh.

  A few of the guys nod or say hello as we make ourselves comfortable. The look surprised to see me. After all the rumors that have gone around campus about Tori and me, eating lunch together will start more. I will have to shield her from as many as I can. She couldn’t handle the rumors last time. I don’t blame her. The shit they were saying about her would’ve made anyone go a little…nuts.

  “Why are you taking care of her?” Jessica seems confused.

  “Because I have a minor concussion, and Dr. Holland wants someone to stay with me.”

  “And I volunteered,” I add.

  Offended, Jessica says, “Why didn’t you call me? That’s why I’m here.”

  Tori lifts a chicken tender from the tray and holds it up to her mouth. “Don’t be ridiculous. You guys have plans, and I am capable of taking care of myself.” She bites into the chicken, speaking between bites. “Have fun. I will be okay on my own.”