“It’s touch football, Lance. There is no tackling.”
He waves the football around dismissively, and I’m struck by how alike he and Kaley are. “Semantics.”
Everyone files into the lunchroom from outside, and it sounds like a cacophony of voices, everyone in good spirits with the beautiful day. A couple of guys fall in line behind us and give Justin and Lance praises for such a good game, and I’m kind of sad I missed it, especially because I didn’t know they were going to be playing shirtless.
Kaley comes barreling through the crowd and screeches to a stop. “Knee-Slapper Tommy,” she says, right before she launches her lips onto Lance’s without a second more to explain. Justin takes a step back, his eyebrows hitting his hairline as he looks from them to me.
Their lips are moving so urgently that I feel like I’m watching a freak show. I catch sight of Tom, in his blue-jean-shorts glory, watching them. Disappointment flashes across his face before he shrugs and walks away.
“Okay, he’s gone.”
They separate as fast as they joined. “One of these days I’m not going to save you,” Lance says, wiping excess saliva from his face.
“You wish,” she says, winking at me before marching off.
“How many times has she pulled that maneuver?” Justin asks.
“Lost count.”
We retrieve our lunches and manage to squeeze into a table toward the back.
“Oh,” I say to Lance. “I forgot to mention that Whitticker’s on to one of his student teachers releasing information to the student body. He threatened expulsion if he finds out who it is.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, unimpressed. “Whitticker’s just jealous he can’t tap it. Ashley told me he’s made passes at her when they’ve been alone. Pervert.”
“Why doesn’t she go to the dean?”
“Because he’s a good reference on a résumé. And she feels like she’s getting retribution by releasing information.” He shrugs. “Either way, I’m not worried.”
A fry flies through the air and nails Lance in the face. Justin and I both start laughing when we pinpoint where it came from.
“And that’s for the uncalled-for tackle,” Kaley yells from down the table.
“What the fuck, Kale. You got it in my eye.” Lance rubs his eye, blinking repeatedly.
“We would have won that last game if you hadn’t cheated.”
“Remind you of anyone?” Justin says, leaning into me.
“Yeah,” I say. “It reminds me of ninny babies who hate it when they’re beaten fair and square by a better player.”
He digs his tongue inside his cheek, just like he did right before he threw me over his shoulder at the bowling alley, and I already know I have something coming for me. I just didn’t expect for it to come from behind. The second Lance’s pizza hits the side of my face, the entire table falls into silence as Lance scoots down a seat, putting distance between us.
Justin runs a finger across my cheek and sucks the marinara from his fingertip. “You were saying…”
I wipe the grease off of my cheek. “Nothing.”
Half the table is disappointed by my response, including Justin. “That’s it?” he says, skeptical.
“No retaliation?” Lance laments.
I shrug. “It’s a losing battle.”
After a half hour of being paranoid, Justin begins to loosen up, laughing with a guy across the table as they discuss Tony Romo’s quarterback skills, and Lance is knee-deep in conversation about strippers with the girl next to him.
Someone slides into the seat Lance vacated, placing a large salad onto the table. “Can I sit here?” He’s stocky, his body most likely perfected to be the muscle mass it is, and at complete odds with his cheery smile.
“No, but since you’re already sitting, be my guest.”
He smiles at my sarcasm. “I didn’t know if you’d need extra room to sleep.” I’m confused until he says, “I saw you sleeping outside. You snore.”
“I do not,” I protest.
“Don’t believe me, ask your friend.” He nods in Justin’s direction.
Now I’m questioning myself. I’ve never snored before. At least, no one’s told me I have. Kaley’s the only person who’s actually slept next to me, but she would have told me…right?
“You’re so full of shit,” I say, calling his bluff.
He laughs, mixing the greens in his paper bowl. “I had you for a second.”
“No, you didn’t.” He gives me a look and I relent. “Maybe.”
He reaches his arm across his chest, holding his hand out for me to shake. “Matt,” he says in greeting.
“Lilly.”
“Like the flower?”
“No.”
“No?
“Nope,” I reiterate.
“Alright. Well, in case you were wondering,” he says. “I’m Matt like Matthew except without the hew.”
I smile, because I’ve got to give him credit for trying. “No way.”
“Unbelievable, I know.”
We smile at each other, not saying anything. It’s kind of awkward, kind of comfortable, and it takes Lance’s laugh cutting through our silence to break it.
“So, you’re new here?” I ask, reaching for a conversation starter.
“Yeah, how did you know?”
I pretend to smell the sleeve of his shirt. “You’ve got that newbie smell.”
He sniffs his shirt, a touch of self-consciousness creeping in. “Like grass and sweat?”
I laugh.
Matt manages to keep an entire conversation going about daffodils and somehow still keeps me interested. Apparently his mom is an avid gardener. Our table stays occupied long after the lunch rush blows through, leaving the janitors sweeping around our feet.
“You’re leaving,” Justin asks, looking up from his seat as I stand.
“Yeah, I’m going to try and get some studying in before work tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you,” Matt says, standing up. He doesn’t ask or wait for my reply as he piles his napkins and trash into his long-empty salad bowl.
“You don’t have to,” I say.
“I’m done and headed that way, anyway. Might as well walk together.”
It’s as if Justin just realizes that I had someone the size of a linebacker sitting next to me this whole time as he gives Matt a look-over, perplexed by who he is and why he’s so nonchalantly offering to walk me to my car.
“I’m sorry,” Justin says, turning to face us. “Who are you?”
“Matt,” he says, holding his hand out in the same manner he did to me.
Justin looks at Matt, ignoring his outstretched hand. “I’m sure you’re a nice guy, Matt, but I’ll walk her.”
Matt pulls his hand back, caught off guard by Justin’s hostility. At this point, Justin’s slacked off all pretenses of being nice and is outright glaring at Matt, all the while sitting. Matt looks to me, but I’m too busy shooting daggers at the back of Justin’s head. “Matt,” I say, picking up my books. “Can you wait for me outside?”
He nods. “Yeah, no problem.” He gives Justin one last glance before making his way to deposit his trash and walk out the door.
Everyone’s eyes are on us as I pull Justin up by the sleeve of his shirt and out of hearing range. “What is up with you?”
“Nothing,” he says with a purposefully blasé shrug, serving its purpose to piss me off.
I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, okay. For a second there I thought you were acting like a dick.”
His eyebrows meet. “The dude is for real creeping on you.”
I’m taken back by his response. “Let’s say he was hitting on me—”
“He was.”
“If,” I correct. “It’s up to me whether or not I want to test that theory, okay?”
He crosses his arms and runs his thumb over his bottom lip, looking over my head when he replies. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.
“Fine,” I concede.
I don’t wait for him to say anything else as I head to meet Matt outside. I’m half expecting him not to be there, knowing there’s a good chance that Justin really did scare him off, but he’s posted against the wall, thumbing through his phone when he sees me exit the lunchroom doors.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah.” I don’t elaborate as we begin walking toward the student parking lot.
“He’s not…your boyfriend or anything…or if he is, ‘cause that’s okay, I just...”
“No, he’s definitely not my boyfriend. Just a friend. A weird, overprotective one.”
He blows out a breath of air. “Good, ‘cause I’m not into stepping on anyone’s toes.”
I freeze.
He stops and gives me a weary look. “That is, if I'm taking a step at all.”
“Is that a very veiled way of asking me out?”
“I think so?”
We pick back up our pace and I mull it over in my head. I glance over at him and he looks up from our feet in the same fashion. He’s followed me to my car by the time I come to a conclusion.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll go out with you.”
His eyes light up, but he masks it well with a smile. “You had me worried.”
“For a second?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
We trade numbers and plan on setting plans for later. It’s not until I’m in my car and pulling away that it occurs to me that I’ve never been on an actual date before. I text Kaley.
KIP IS WATCHING TV in the living room when I’m about to leave. He must have just got home from work, judging by the red bandana still tied around his forehead.
“Going out?”
“Yeah,” I say, slipping on my cotton jacket.
“With Justin?”
The tone in his voice throws me off. “A group of us is studying at his place. Why?”
“Dan told me Justin showed up at the shop with you in tow. Said Taylor had a talk with the both of you.”
Sighing, I drop down on the couch beside him. “Justin lifted a car with me.”
“Since when?”
“Only once.”
“And he was just like, ‘Committing felonies is rad’?”
“No one says rad anymore, Kip.”
“Lilly.” He says my name in warning, having no patience with my deflecting.
“He doesn’t want me to do it by myself. He thinks it’s dangerous.”
“And you trust him?”
Trust. The word in itself carries the implication that I know what I’m doing when I say, “Yes, I trust him,” when really, I have no idea.
Kip finishes his beer and stands, walking into the kitchen. I hear the glass bottle hit another in the trashcan, and he reemerges with the glock by his side. “I want you to keep this with you.”
“Kip.”
“Put it in your car for now until I can sign you up for a concealed weapons class.”
“Justin’s not going to hurt me,” I say in defense.
“It’s not for Justin. Taylor’s getting desperate for this money and I don’t like it. Please, just do what I say and give me a little more peace of mind.” I take the gun from his hand. “Remember what I taught you?”
“Only point if I have intention to shoot.”
“CAN WE TAKE A BREAK?” Kaley slides from Justin's couch like a slinky.
Lance throws his pen down. “I second that.”
Kaley managed to corner Justin into allowing a study session in his apartment. Justin couldn’t blame them when he and I had been skipping sessions to study alone in his apartment or at Chuck’s. It was more of my doing than Justin’s because of my desire to avoid putting him and Kaley in the same room.
Ever since she picked up the change in our dynamic, she's been grilling me. And if she's not bugging me with incessant questions, she's throwing out sexual innuendos whenever Justin and I are within ten feet of one another. Things went back to normal after bowling night, except now there’s more apprehension. Everything we do, we do with caution. If he’s sitting on the couch, I take the recliner. If I’m in the kitchen, he’ll wait until I’m done before entering. There’s too much tension now. I feel like we’re a bomb. And I’m scared Kaley has the remote to trigger it.
“My brain hates me. I’ve read the same page twice and I can’t recall a single sentence.” Courtney massages her temples.
Blake hops up. “Anyone want something to drink?”
“I'll take one,” I say, raising my hand.
He looks around the room, one by one, double-checking. He gets to Justin, who still has his head down. I say his name and his head snaps up.
“Want anything to drink?”
He shakes his head no. He's been moody, barely putting in any effort to socialize. He's probably said all of three sentences combined since everyone arrived. Everyone's just kind of avoided interacting with him. I've caught him staring off into space more than he's actually studied.
“Let’s go out,” Kaley says, looking to Lance. She knows he's her best bet at rallying the troops.
Justin is already rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. Next week is midterms, and we're all cramming. College is basically a massive test to see who can retain the most information without actually understanding it.
“A hangover isn't conducive,” Courtney says.
Lance wraps an arm around her shoulder, teasing her with a little shake. “Courtney, ever the voice of reason, we can go to the bar a few blocks over and have a chill night. No dance clubs with strobe lights or EDM music.”
“Only middle-aged men looking to score. I’ll pass, thanks. But I do think I’m going to call it a night.”
Lance drops his arm in defeat. Turning to Blake, he pushes on his bicep. “What about you, buddy? Up for some pool?”
“No, man. Not tonight.”
Kaley gives me a poignant stare, nodding her head in Justin’s direction. I shake my head no. She silently stomps her foot. I shake my head no again. She holds up her hands, pleading with me in prayer.
I throw my hands in the air. “Justin, do you want to go?”
He doesn't look at me but shakes his head no.
“It's okay,” Lance says, patting him on the shoulder as he walks toward the door, Kaley following right behind. “We'll have fun without you.”
“Come on, Lilly.”
I give her a look. “I never said I was going.”
“You’ve been MIA since the semester started. You kind of owe me, especially because you’ve been ditching me to spend lunch with Matt.”
Her deviousness is astounding in the most horrific way. On Monday, I canceled lunch with her to finish a paper that was due, and I happened to run into Matt in the library. When Kaley brought me a smoothie out of the kindness of her heart and saw me sitting with him, she was kind of pissed. She didn’t say she was, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out when Kaley’s being pissy. Like right now.
“Fine,” I say. “I'll meet you there.”
I wait for everyone to leave so that I can try to talk to Justin alone and figure out what's going on with him. I pack up slowly, not wanting to jump him with questions the second we're alone. He's tapping his pen against the arm of the couch, staring at the wall on the other side of the room, not making a move.
I clear my throat. “Justin.” My voice is low, but it still sounds like a wrecking ball came in and demolished half the apartment.
“Lilly.”
“Is everything okay?”
He looks at me, his face purposefully blank. “Are you seeing that Matt guy?”
I'm so caught off guard that it takes a second for me to register what he said. It’s almost as if he’s…jealous.
“We haven’t made any official plans or anything.”
He nods once and stands, dropping his books on the coffee table. “Have fun tonight.”
And that's all he says as he walks into his bedroom and shuts the door behind him, leaving me to excus
e myself.
THE STING OF JUSTIN'S DISMISSAL lingers as I walk into the bar. It's empty, considering it’s the official start of finals week. Lance is already talking up a girl by the dartboards, and Kaley's in the midst of some jocks. Of course they're not worried about midterms when half the professors pass them regardless. But overall, nothing special or interesting is happening, and the last place I want to be is here.
I'm already taking a step backward when Kaley spots me. “Oh no you don't,” she says, linking an arm through mine. “You've been MIA since the beginning of the semester. Tonight, you're obligated to have fun.”
Grudgingly, I let her lead me to the bar. I think about planting my feet and finding out how far she's going to take this. I smile at the image of her dragging me across the floor as I try to claw my way out.
“Margarita on the rocks?” the bartender says, already familiar with Kaley's drink of choice.
“No,” I say for her. “I'm not carrying you home tonight.”
She holds up her hands in surrender. “A beer, please.”
The bartender looks to me and I order a cherry soda.
“What's the obligatory amount of time I need to be here?”
She muses, touching the tip of her chin. “Until I’m satisfied that you’ve made a valiant effort.”
Figuring I’m going to be here for a while, I go ahead and take a seat on one of the barstools. The bartender slides each of our drinks over and begins wiping the already clean countertop, busying himself for the slow night.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you and Justin?”
“Nope.”
“It’s socially unjust to withhold this kind of information from your best friend.”
“There’s no information because there’s nothing going on.”
“Sure, and that’s why you’re always staring at each other when you think no one is looking.”
That’s not true.
“It’s true,” she says, reading my thoughts.
One of the jocks calls her name, needing another person for a game of billiards. She’s indecisive, torn between the fun on the other side of the bar and really getting the inside scoop on my nonexistent love life.
“Go,” I say, shooing her away.
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