by Lila Price
“I’m just going to a thing at some bar called the Manhattan,” I said.
“That place is great. Get the Tipsy Duck, if you’re into cocktails,” Kiersten said.
“Got it. Tipsy Duck,” I said.
“Meeting someone?” Piper asked absently.
“Sort of,” I said, stooping to clasp my heels. They were kitten heels, tiny things that made me tower over people in Tifton but made me look like a little girl playing dress-up in Atlanta.
“Who is it? Anyone we know?” Kiersten asked.
“Um, it’s…” I hesitated. I could avoid a fight now by lying, and saying I was meeting a nobody— but with the way people, especially Piper, knew Jacob Everett’s business, I reasoned it was very likely Piper would eventually figure it out. Then, there’d be a fight over my going out to this bar and the lie.
Better to rip the Band-Aid off, right?
“It’s Jacob Everett. I’m not sure what he wants. I don’t think it’s anything like…serious,” I said quickly.
Piper made a noise in her throat, and when I dared look her way, I saw my roommate’s jaw was clenched.
“Jacob Everett asked you to the Manhattan?”
“I think it’s just something to do with the anthropology class I’m in,” I said hurriedly.
Piper considered this, then gave a short laugh. “Probably. I mean, what else would it be for?”
“Exactly,” I said. I turned to look at Kiersten, whose eyes were wide. When I looked her way, she blinked, then shrugged.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s not really into your type,” Kiersten said, giving Piper a meaningful, supportive look.
“Yeah,” Piper said, though it was clear the hurt was deep. I almost felt bad— wasn’t it some sort of college law to not covet your roommate’s crush or something?
“I’ll mention you to him, if you want. Maybe I can get you on the…um…list. For the pre-game…thing?” I said haltingly. Had I ever actually said the word blowjob out loud? Not that I could remember.
Piper’s eyes went dark, and I immediately realized I’d hurt more than I’d helped. “I don’t need to be mentioned to Jacob Everett, Sasha. He knows exactly who I am, and it’s only a matter of time before he realizes how much I can offer him. That’s why I know this isn’t anything serious— you’ve got nothing he can’t get from me, and I’ve got far more to give than you ever could, got it?”
I was stunned. An array of witty comebacks circled my head, but as per usual, they stalled rather than emerging from my lips. This was one of those circumstances where freezing up wasn’t a bad thing, though— after all, it’s not like a snappy response would do anything to fix things between me and Piper at the moment. Instead, I nodded.
“Yeah, I get it,” I said, and hurried out the door.
I could hear them already starting to talk about me as the door closed shut behind me, but I rushed away anyhow, determined not to let them get to me.
I was going out to meet the guy they all wanted. And for the first time, I was only too happy to know that it was driving them crazy.
7
The Manhattan was, obviously, off campus, which meant it was a little farther outside the bubble I had built for myself. It was a building tucked off one of the city’s main roads, two stories with loud, obnoxious signs beckoning college-goers in. I had heard it mentioned several times before— it was one of a bars that Harton students more or less kept in business— but I’d never had all that much interest in going. I was too introverted to dance, I wasn’t all that into getting drunk, and it wasn’t like you could have a conversation with the DJ cranking the music up so loud.
If you don’t belong here then why are you going? I wondered for the thousandth time as I walked up to the bouncer and offered him my ID. He waved me in, though he didn’t give me the coveted purple wristband that marked me over twenty-one and alcohol eligible.
Now what? I wondered as I stepped inside. The interior of the Manhattan was done up in an ultra-modern cityscape style, with steel beams, LED lights, and a bar that flashed different colors with the music. It was still early, but the place was already packed with what appeared to be every athlete at Harton, along with a myriad of fan girls hanging onto the sleeves of every male in the room.
It was easy to tell the student athletes apart from the rest of the populace. Harton athletes wore their embroidered jackets with pride around campus, a reminder to everyone they encountered that they were swimmers, or gymnasts, or tennis players. The football players, of course, rarely needed a jacket to set them apart, hulking humans that they were, though they wore them anyhow. Here at the bar, it was still obvious to someone as observant as me that I was surrounded by the physically elite— the girls had sculpted shoulder muscles and backs shown off in barely-there dresses. The guys were well-groomed and broad shouldered, with bodies that tapered into fit waists. More than anything, though, it was those fan girls that gave them away— no one was worshipped so steadily, so adored by beautiful playthings, like the football players at Harton.
The place made me feel small and feeble and mousy in comparison— what the hell was I doing here, amid the beautiful people?
Calm down, I scolded herself. You were invited, for starters, and it’s not like they’re going to challenge you to an arm wrestling or beauty contest. I pulled my shoulders back and walked deeper into the bar, looking for Jacob Everett.
It was no surprise when I saw him holding court, as per usual— was there ever a moment when this guy wasn’t surrounded by admirers? He was sitting at a table flanked by groupies. On one side was a girl with pretty blonde hair and a heart-shaped face who was clearly one of the athletes rather than a piece of arm candy, though she had the looks to be either. After a few moments of consideration, I recognized her. It was the girl who’d stood beside him in the picture I studied when I’d masturbated after the party that night—
The memory made me flush, hard, and I was grateful for the dim lights of the club. I focused on breathing as I closed in on him, but still, when he looked up and met my eyes, I felt all the oxygen rush out of me.
“It’s the mime! You actually took me up on my invitation,” Jacob said brightly, though his voice teetered on the line between teasing and admonishing— but a little more the latter than I appreciated.
“I did. So there’s no need to mention it on cable television,” I replied coolly. Jacob’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought I’d hugely overstepped— arrogant or not, this was undoubtedly his school, his bar, his court. But then the girl from the photo laughed, and it seemed to ease the hesitation in Jacob’s eyes.
“He’s not used to being turned down, is all,” the girl said, elbowing Jacob.
“Enough of you, Jenna,” Jacob answered, and stood, tall and powerful and looming over me. He smiled at me, and I felt my palms go sweaty—
And then he walked away, over to a crowd of guys who were clearly on the football team with him.
I shifted, uncomfortable, unsure where to go. I certainly wasn’t confident enough to go over and join the conversation— those guys probably wouldn’t even see me standing there, they were so huge. Perhaps I was meant to go have a seat with the other fan girls, make conversation with them about Jacob Everett’s sexual prowess?
I’d tried not to put too much stock in this being a date, but now that I was finding out just how much of a date it wasn’t, I couldn’t help but feel a ball of humiliation circling in my stomach. Piper was right— Jacob Everett wasn’t interested in me at all. He’d just wanted to see if I would come when called.
And I had.
I took a step backward, wavering a bit on my heels. I caught my balance, thank god, and turned to go—
“Wait, are you leaving?” Jenna called out.
“Yeah, I think so. Good to meet you,” I said, smiling weakly.
Jenna looked puzzled. “Didn’t Jacob ask you to come?”
“He did. But he’s clearly busy,” I said, motioning to him and
the other football players, who were now laughing raucously.
“Hey,” Jenna said kindly, though her nearness made me feel even smaller. “This is just how he is. Don’t take it so personally.”
“I guess I’m not really interested in how he is, then,” I said firmly, and saying the words aloud made me feel stronger. “Maybe I’ll see you around campus sometime,” I said, then started for the door.
I wove past girls wearing candy-scented perfumes, athletes with a comically low amount of body fat, and at least a few guys that I was pretty certain could be actual Nordic gods. The air outside was thick and heavy with late summer, but still felt refreshing compared to the Manhattan’s boozy atmosphere. I took a deep, much-needed breath, and started for home. In some ways, I was relieved. At least I knew now that it was all a game. Sure, I’d gotten caught up in it, but it could have gone a lot worse. Plus, maybe me and Piper could settle things once I explained how Jacob Everett had more or less ignored me entirely.
“Hey!” a voice shouted. It was the middle of a busy street, so I didn’t bother to glance over my shoulder at the source until the voice called again, “Hey! Mime!”
I froze, glanced toward the sky, then turned around. It was Jacob Everett and, I was pleased to see, my body didn’t go into total lockdown mode. I lifted my eyebrows at him as he walked toward me, his long legs closing the distance with shocking ease and swiftness.
“You left,” he said, shaking his head, smiling a little, like I had made a careless mistake rather than a conscious choice.
“There wasn’t really anything for me in there,” I answered. Amazing what accepting the fact that you’ve been played will do for your confidence, I thought, pulling my shoulders back.
Jacob looked confused, then laughed. “I invited you.”
“You invited a lot of people, it seems. Every athlete at Harton and some arm candy to match.”
“No— it’s hype night. Most of the teams have some sort of regional or game or contest coming up this weekend, so we all go out, get a little drunk, take the edge off with plenty of time to recover before we’re on.”
“And the arm candy?” I asked, folding my arms.
“They’re here for the athletes,” Jacob said, grinning wolfishly.
“Yeah. Not my thing,” I said, and started to turn. Jacob caught my arm, not tightly, but firmly enough that I froze and turned back. I looked down at my arm, then his eyes; he seemed to realize he’d overstepped, and the expression he gave was as much baffled as it was apologetic. It was as if no girl had ever done anything but cream in her pants the second he touched her.
He released me.
“I invited you because I wanted to see you again,” Jacob said seriously.
“Ok, sure. But you’re a little too busy with your friends in there to see me, so I guess it just won’t work out.”
“Another night, maybe? Football House is hosting—“
“I’m not really interested in being just another admirer at your parties,” I cut him off. “And I’m not interested in getting in line to suck your dick before games. And I’m not interested in fighting with Piper over any of it. So thanks for the invite, but I think I should go.” I finished this lecture both horrified and pleased with myself— I’d just mentioned blowjobs out loud, which was so not something I would normally talk about to anyone, ever, but I’d also said everything I’d been wanting to say to Jacob since that day in class.
“Wow,” Jacob said after pausing a moment. I wished he’d take a step back— did he realize how imposing his presence was? Probably. It felt like we were being pressed together, and I wanted it to stop, but didn’t want to be the one to crack and create more space between us.
“Wow,” Jacob said again, and rubbed the back of his head.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s just…been a while since someone told me to go fuck myself.”
“I didn’t say that!” I protested.
“You did, in so many words. I’m not mad. It’s just been a while,” Jacob said, sounding amused. “Look, being invited to a party by me is a big deal. I meant it as a compliment. Same way that I meant those tickets.”
“A compliment is telling someone they look nice, not showering them in your own greatness,” I said.
“You look nice. You look great, actually,” Jacob said immediately.
“Oh. Thanks,” I said.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Jacob asked.
“Now?”
“Do you have other plans?” Jacob asked just a bit sarcastically.
“No, but you do. Hype night,” I said, motioning to the Manhattan behind them.
Jacob shrugged. “There’ll be others.”
I eyed him warily. “I’m still not interested in getting in line to—“
He waved my words off. “Look— walk with me up to tenth street, we’ll turn around, we’ll come back here. Then if you want to go home, go, and I promise I won’t crash your super boring archaeology class again.”
“Anthropology.”
“Sure.”
I studied him, avoiding his eyes since I wasn’t totally certain they wouldn’t lock me in all over again. He still looked solid, strong, someone who couldn’t be moved, but I also saw the rise and fall of his chest, the way he ran his thumb across his fingernails, the way he blinked— the way that despite his stature and reputation and perhaps totally inappropriate attempts at complimenting me, he was human.
“To tenth street, then back,” I agreed.
Jacob grinned, put his hands in his pockets— almost like a show of noble, hands-free intentions— and we started down the street.
8
We walked along in silence for the first few blocks— or at least, I did. Jacob didn’t speak to me, but every few feet someone called his name, or waved, or screamed and cheered for the Harton football team out of a moving car’s window. It wasn’t until we’d made it a fair distance away from the clubs that the streets became quieter— still busy, given that we were in the middle of Atlanta, but in an anonymous, hurried way.
“So. Tell me something about yourself,” Jacob said.
“What do you want to know?” I asked, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
Jacob shrugged beside me, admiring the buildings as he walked along, a king surveying his kingdom. “Well, I know you’re a freshman. You’re Piper’s roommate. You’re not straight out of high school though— you took a gap year?”
“I worked for a year,” I corrected— I wasn’t trying to impress Jacob, so why pretend like my life was glamorous? “As a waitress. To pay for school.”
“Ah. I understand,” Jacob said.
I lifted an eyebrow and looked at him. “Do you?”
“You clearly think I don’t. Why?”
“You’re here on a full scholarship, I assume.”
“I am, and I work for it every day. Sure, it’s a game, but I work to be good at that game every single day of my life. I’ve been working to be good at that game since I was six years old. I work to go to school too, it’s just at a different job than you did.”
I blinked at him, stunned.
Jacob seemed entertained by my reaction, and he half-grinned. “Look. We already have something in common.”
“Hardly,” I said, but I smiled as I did so. “What else do you want to know?”
“What’s your major?”
“Business, but I want to minor in anthropology. Actually, I want to major in that, but business is a more flexible degree and will be easier for me to complete on a three-year track,” I said, words rolling from my mouth easily— I’d explained this a half thousand times to everyone in Tifton, back when attending Harton was a dream rather than a reality. Speaking the words had always made it seem more attainable. I went on, “What about you?”
“I’ve changed a few times. Right now it’s accounting.”
I busted out a laugh that was far too loud and came dangerously close to a snort. Jacob looked delighted and appalled.
>
I couldn’t help it, as I tried to explain my inappropriate reaction. “Sorry, sorry— but you? You’re going to be an accountant? With like a little green visor?”
“Nah, I’m going to sign with an NFL team, with a large possibly-green helmet. But you’ve got to major in something if you’re in college.”
“But what if you don’t make it? Then you’ll have to be an accountant,” I said.
Jacob made a sound of pure disbelief. “Have you seen me play, Mime? I’m a fucking legend.”
“It’s Sasha. And I sold the tickets, remember?” I said primly.
“Ah, but you still watched me on TV,” Jacob countered knowingly.
I felt my cheeks light up. I grimaced and shook my head. “You win.”
“Always do,” Jacob said, and laughed.
We were coming up on tenth street; when we did a U-turn and started back on the sidewalk, our pace slowed, and I noticed Jacob was drifting closer to me. It sparked something in my chest— there was a very simple, basic want to step away from him, lest he knock me over by accident (it wouldn’t take much). But then there was also this want, this desire to carefully hit up against him, to feel how solid he’d be, like testing the solidity and firmness of ice on a lake.
“Why anthropology?” Jacob asked after a moment.
“I like people.”
Jacob lifted an eyebrow. “Not all people.”
I smiled. “I like studying people. The way people group themselves, the value systems that emerge in different cultures, how they clash with the systems of other cultures. Things like that. Like, for example: Coming to Harton, and clashing with the football culture here. I am so not a sports girl.”
Jacob put a hand to his chest, like he was offended; something about the action made me notice how long his fingers were. “Not a sports girl. How are you not a sports girl?”
I shrugged. “Never was my thing.”
“I’ll get you into football. It’s now a mission.”
“Don’t you have enough worshippers without me?” I laughed.