After the party, some of Hassan’s teammates headed out to the club. He decided to kick up his legs and stew in bitterness back at the dorm. In the dead of the night when his teammates returned, Freight told him about spotting the dance girls at a club. It was late enough for Edy to have been there, since it would’ve been after he’d departed. As Freight and Cash regaled him with tales of the girls throwing back shots of liquor, squealing, and dancing counter top, and of the two so all over each other they needed a room, Hassan tried not to imagine Edy amongst them and failed. Was this what she did when she never answered the phone? Danced counter top and threw back shots? When the hell had she learned to party like that, anyway? Was it what she preferred instead of time with him?
Hassan was too embarrassed to ask if they’d seen Edy. Since they didn’t say they had, he told himself it meant she wasn’t there.
But still, he wondered.
By the time Hassan’s phone rang on Sunday afternoon, he was too pissed to answer it and rejected the call without looking at the screen. He didn’t care if it was Edy. He wasn’t calm enough to talk to her just yet. He’d been busy being jealous of imaginary men slow grinding on his girl in the dark. He’d been jealous of the time other people got with her, day and night. Hell, he had obligations too. But it didn’t make sense that he could never see her. What was the point of them coming together? Would she really let someone—anyone—take away what they’d so carefully put together?
Hassan’s phone rang again. It was his mother. He hissed before rejecting it.
“Why don’t you just block whoever it is?” Cash asked as they got in line for lunch.
“Because him and his baby mama have got the drama,” Freight said. “Don’t you pay attention?”
“I don’t have any damned kids,” Hassan said. He took another step towards the hot lunch display.
“Right,” Freight said. “You deadbeat dad.”
“Fuck off,” Hassan muttered, more to himself than anything. Freight grinned and regaled him with a bright smile in response.
A broad woman with rough red cheeks, dinner plate lips, and a broad mouth waved Hassan up. “What will you have?” she said in a child’s voice.
He couldn’t think straight. He didn’t know why he was being so petulant. So, he and Edy had barely touched, or spoken to, or seen each other since their arrival weeks ago. And before that, they’d been separated for the summer. It could have been worse, he told himself. She could have decided to go to Harvard, like her parents wanted. He’d have no hope of seeing her then.
Sufficiently cheered by the thought, Hassan tried on a smile. “Give me anything,” he told the lunch lady. She had the soft, simpering voice of Marilyn Monroe and the face of a pulverized linebacker.
She spooned what looked like stew onto a plate.
“Is that beef?” Hassan said.
She looked up with a roll of her eyes. “Yes.” Her voice was still sweet, still childlike. But her shoulders were as broad as his.
“I can’t eat beef,” Hassan said. “Anything else.”
She let out a huff of a sigh before shoveling the food back into its bin. Then she went to the chicken without changing his plate.
“Hey, don’t even—”
A laugh caught his attention. A laugh he knew and recognized as out of place. But it was a silly thought.
“‘Don’t’ what?” the lunch lady said, surly now. She still had the dirty plate in her hand.
“Listen, give him the stew and we’ll trade. Otherwise, we’ll be here all day,” Freight said.
Hassan shrugged before extending his arm to take it. The soreness in his shoulder bloomed.
“Get chicken for me, Freight,” Hassan said and got through the line. When he paid, he thought of Edy and the craziness with her credit cards. He hadn’t had much use for money since being at school, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use some. After his meal, he’d text her and offer, though he was pretty sure she’d refuse out of pride.
Hassan sought out a table big enough to hold the handful of teammates with him, then claimed it. Freight, Lawrence, and Cash followed in a steady stream. They shuffled around and pulled up more chairs when Xavier, the wide receiver, and a few linebackers joined them.
With school having started, Lawrence switched from carrying his playbook everywhere to carrying his textbooks instead. Now, as their small group of football players sat at a single round table, Lawrence pulled out a nutrition textbook and eased it open next to his lunch.
“Put that away and study your playbook. I saw you screw up a play yesterday,” Cash said.
“That’s because there are a thousand of them,” Lawrence said. “And anyway, I have time penciled in for the playbook. I can’t devote all my time to dreams of the NFL like you bunch of losers. If football doesn’t work, I’ll go into the family business.”
“The family business is the NFL, isn’t it?” Freight said.
Their laughter echoed through the cafeteria, a roar amidst murmuring conversations.
Then it came again. That laugh he knew but denied because it didn’t make sense. Not here, not now.
Hassan jerked around in his chair and saw him.
He saw Wyatt.
Half an inch taller, with hair that played at being some new color, he was leaner, slightly more fit and tanned. He was different. He held himself different, with his shoulders back and his head tilted to one side, relaxed nonetheless.
He had people around him. They were listening. Laughing. Buying whatever shit he was shoving down their throats.
Wyatt Green was in Baton Rouge.
Hassan shoved back from the table. He’d balled his fists without realizing it, as images of his smile, his grin, collided with that damned police report and every sick thing he imagined the bastard had done to his own cousin. Was he here for Edy? Did he think he could get within fifty feet of her?
Of course he did. The asshole was nothing if not persistent.
“Shit!” Lawrence cried from somewhere behind Hassan. Furniture squeaked in those tight seconds when Hassan strode across the room, ready to confront his nemesis.
“What the hell are you doing here, Wyatt?” Hassan said.
The boy turned on him, paled, then offered a watery smile.
“Hassan,” Wyatt said. “Didn’t expect to see you.”
“Bullshit. The whole world knows I’m here,” Hassan said. “You followed me.”
Wyatt crossed his arms. “Did Edy follow you? And Lawrence? Because they’re here too.” He lifted his chin. “Maybe everyone follows Hassan Pradhan around. He’s that important, you know.”
That earned a measure of snickers from his new friends.
Hassan’s jaw worked and his knuckles cracked. He had no memory of doing either.
Wyatt looked from one guy to the next at his table of new friends. “You’ll have to forgive us. Athletes—Hassan especially—seem to think everything’s about them.”
“That’s because it is,” Cash interjected brashly. Behind Hassan, a few of his teammates chuckled.
“Don’t play games with me, Wyatt. You know I’ll put you through a goddamned wall.”
Wyatt stood and slammed his hand on the table. “And I’ll sue the shit out of you and every Pradhan I can find. You stay out of my way, Hassan, and I’ll stay out of yours.”
Sue? Oh, right. He was rich now. Momentarily, Hassan thought of his family’s financial troubles, being as how they were the reason he couldn’t extricate himself cleanly from the Mala Bathlar engagement. His father wouldn’t take well to being sued. Or would it just be Hassan getting sued? He was a broke ass college kid and didn’t appreciate this line of thought.
“Stay away from Edy. I don’t trust you,” Hassan said, less certain of himself now. The suing bit had thrown him off his train of thought. But he didn’t trust Wyatt not to hurt her. He’d hurt his cousin, after all. “I know what you’re capable of.”
Wyatt blushed, but recovered too quickly for Hassan’s comfo
rt. After all, was he really making peace with what he’d done? Should he be allowed to make peace with what he’d done? Or sit amidst civilized society either?
His friends had caught something though, judging by the way they shifted, murmured to each other, and cast Wyatt the stray questioning look. But Hassan didn’t care. There were girls there too. They deserved to know that this guy could snap, kick their ass, and try to get his rocks off in an instant.
“Whatever, Hassan. So, is her number still the same? I think I’ll call later,” Wyatt said and actually fucking smiled.
Hassan dove, only to get locked in a flock of arms, a steel trap of teammates holding him back.
“Sawn,” Lawrence kept saying. “Sawn. C’mon. Be cool.” It was his mantra in these situations, as a worthless voice of calm.
But Wyatt was here. Here. He’d set his eyes on Edy when they were in the ninth grade. He’d obsessed over her, got shot trying to break them up, and chased her a thousand miles south. And he’d committed a real crime when he attacked his cousin.
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t prosecuted for it.
Lawrence’s hand wrapped one of Hassan’s forearms. “Be cool,” he said again, voice quiet at his shoulder. “You know we can’t afford—”
Fuck that.
“Does Edy know you’re here?” Hassan said. He tried to jerk forward, only to be yanked back with brute force. He ignored the teammates that tried to soothe him with words.
He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this shit to have followed them to Louisiana. He didn’t want to have to worry about Edy and what Wyatt might do.
But there was the question of what Wyatt was doing in the cafeteria. Was he a student? How could he be, when the secret of their commitment to LSU had been made public the same year as their attendance? They’d waited until spring, late spring, which was far too late to start an admissions process. Yet, here he was. Hassan could think of only one explanation for it.
He thought back to when he and Edy had visited Wyatt in the hospital. She’d been worried about him, naturally, but had a hard time separating herself from him when it became clear that he didn’t want her there. Hassan swallowed. Had he been a fool in thinking that the Edy-Wyatt-Hassan triangle was all in Wyatt’s head? Was it possible that she even… felt something for him? He was in Baton Rouge, and if he was a student there was only one way he would have known to enroll in time.
Edy.
Suddenly, Hassan had an irrepressible urge to smack the smugness from Wyatt’s face. He didn’t like what it implied or the sudden fear boiling inside him.
Wyatt cocked his head to one side, as if considering Hassan’s question. “Well, I saw her on Saturday. She was beautiful.”
Hassan lunged, but got nowhere for his trouble. He wanted to be let go. He wanted to handle this. These guys had no idea who Wyatt was or what he was capable of. If they knew, they’d be helping Hassan pound him.
“Sorry about that,” Freight said sympathetically. “Team rules.”
Hassan suppressed the urge to spit. To think that this guy had seen Edy on Saturday… was it at the club? He couldn’t think of any reason why Edy would allow this. And yet, his heart and mind went back to high school and the rumors that used to surround them. They’d been inseparable in the beginning, Edy and Wyatt, and lots of people swore she was with him behind Hassan’s back. But even if she was… attracted to him, she knew what he’d done to his cousin. Edy would never tolerate someone like that.
“Listen, lover boy. You’ve had your confrontation. It’s time to go eat.” Freight used one of his Christmas ham fists to start pulling Hassan in the direction of their table. Soon others joined in. It was only then that Hassan noticed the sea of peering faces, watching, waiting.
“I’m not hungry,” Hassan said once they’d made it back to the table. He stared at his food sullenly, seeing Wyatt’s grin instead.
“Eat or leave, freshman. Cause if you fight, I’ll kick your ass myself, you idiot.” Cash dropped down in front of his baked chicken and stabbed it with a fork.
Leaving sounded like a damned good idea, because there was no way he could choke down food in sight of Wyatt. Not without answers first. Hassan snatched up his book bag and bolted, making sure that he kept his eyes straight on the path before him.
Not long after hitting the grass, he heard his name.
“You know it’s all bullshit, don’t you?” Lawrence said and caught up to him. “What Wyatt said? What you’re thinking?”
It felt like bullshit. Only… “What’s he doing here? How could he even have got here in time?”
Lawrence shrugged. “Maybe he’s a poser. He could not even be a student. Who knows with Wyatt?”
And yeah. That was exactly the problem: who knew with Wyatt?
***
Edy’s head thumped as she rounded the bend. Didn’t these people know that they kept the lights too bright? She pushed through the cafeteria line in 459 Commons. Milk. Chicken Caesar salad. Red grapes. When London suggested they party again tonight, Edy’s stomach lurched. Had she even cleared her system of last night’s alcohol? Nausea roiled in threatening bursts, here again, gone the next. She only hoped she didn’t vomit in public. Twice in one day would be ridiculous.
“Your total is $7.92,” said a bored-faced woman in white uniform. Purple trimmed the edges of her name tag: Nichole Gates. Geaux Tigers.
Her financial aid situation was still a tad iffy. Any time she left messages with her dad about the credit cards, they weren’t answered. She had the scholarship, of course, but the processing would take a few more days. In the meantime, she had to pay her bills another way.
One swipe later, the woman frowned.
“It’s been declined.” She held up the card and squinted as if it suddenly sported hieroglyphs. “Let me try again. It’s probably the machine.”
Heat warmed Edy’s cheeks. This had been happening lately.
“It’s okay,” she said, all too aware of the line forming behind her. “Let me give you a different card. I think maybe it’s expired.”
The woman turned the card over for a closer look.
Edy snatched it. “Hold on a second.” She unzipped the keychain pouch affixed to her waist and pulled out a gold MasterCard. Her last place of refuge.
Please God. Don’t forsake me.
“Declined.” Behind Edy a few titters erupted as the woman swiped again. “Still declined. I’ll bet it’s the machine though. Let’s move to a different one and—”
“No!” Edy blurted. “I’ll—I’ll just get the milk.” She grabbed her carton and thrust it toward the woman as she tried on her best politician’s smile.
“Okay.” The woman appeared genuinely baffled as she set Edy’s milk aside, cancelled out the previous order, and rung up the beverage. “A dollar nine,” she said.
Edy held her breath. It was okay. She’d be okay. After all, milk was fortified with essential nutrients, right? And babies lived on milk. No, not cow’s milk, of course, but milk just the same. This was just a temporary fix, after all, until—
“It’s been declined.”
Fuck! Her third and last credit card cancelled like all the others. Her parents meant to starve her out.
“Okay,” Edy said, “just, okay.” Then, because manners had been drilled into her with her earliest memories, “Thank you for your time.”
She wandered off into a suddenly blurring cafeteria, eyes stinging with anguish. But she was reasonable: a reasonable adult knew crying wouldn’t solve her problems. Except she was seventeen and not eighteen. She still had a few weeks to go until her birthday. So even the part about her being an adult wasn’t entirely true.
She had no money. Nothing. Standing there, so many hundreds of miles from home and from the safety of her parents, brought into sharp contrast what she’d left behind. She and Hassan had vowed to be together, no matter the consequences. So they’d forged ahead with what they thought was caution and conviction, with what now looked like nai
vety and stupidity. Edy had been especially stupid; that was what her stomach now proclaimed. How long could she live without food?
“This seat taken?” a male voice spoke softly.
Edy didn’t even remember wandering to a seat, let alone taking it. There was no one else with her because she ventured to the cafeteria impulsively, never inviting a teammate to see how dire her money situation was. Before Edy could answer whoever had intruded on her misery, a tray nudged her arm. A glance toward it showed chicken Caesar salad, red grapes, and milk.
Her abandoned meal. Brought by some random Steve who had taken pity on her and meant well. A flood of humiliation filled her eyes with tears and she shoved the tray back the way it came.
“Listen, I—” Am going to pass out if I don’t eat soon.
“You?” he prompted from where he stood.
Wait. Wait. This wasn’t possible. That voice wasn’t possible. And yet…
Edy lifted her head. “Wyatt?” she whispered.
He flashed impossibly white teeth, and his cheeks flushed with a hint of color. “Hey, Edy.”
“Wyatt!” She upended her chair in a rush to him. “Oh my God!” And once more because there was nothing else to say. “Oh my God.”
She stepped back and examined him. Tall. Taller than she remembered and tanned now. Lean muscles gave his body definition. Were those highlights in his hair?
He took a seat. Two trays of an identical meal waited on the table. Suddenly remembering how hungry she was and how much studying she needed to do, Edy dug in.
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