by Ella Fields
He glared at that guy instead, who didn’t even notice. He was staring too intently at the professor who was now frantically moving from side to side of the electronic whiteboard, tapping at the equations with his ruler.
Biting back a laugh, I quickly reached down and powered my phone off, then tried to take more notes before the lesson ended.
As hard as I tried to stay rooted in the present, my mind curled backward.
The look on Toby’s face when I left him standing at the foot of the stairs outside my dorm had me puzzled. I didn’t want to be some notch on a guy’s bedpost. I’d done that before. I’d had boyfriends in high school, but nothing that ever lasted very long.
My most serious boyfriend, Sean, was the one who got the goods from me in the end. And even though I didn’t think I was in love with the guy, I liked him enough to feel fucking awful when he ended things.
So I kind of slept with some random guy at a party the first week of summer break before college. It didn’t make me feel better. And I realized, after waking up to an empty bed and an awkward conversation in the dude’s kitchen, it wasn’t for me.
I needed something that mattered, that set my heart racing like I’d been forced to run to the donut store before it closed.
I didn’t want mediocre, but looking at Daisy, at the way her expression warped and waned whenever she thought of Quinn, I had to wonder if I was crazy for wanting something that real too.
Because, just as most people who hadn’t had a taste of something rare and exquisite wanted, I wanted to fall in love someday. To ignore the consequences and let go when the right person came along.
The problem was, I didn’t know if a certain someone with a pair of imploring blue eyes was someone I should even consider.
He seemed like he was in the market for something I wasn’t looking to sell. Though his expressions, his mannerisms all told me something different. His confidence was a swelling balloon, inflating to dangerous levels until the tiniest jab sent air rushing out, leaving him to frantically grasp what was left with a reformed smile.
“All right, don’t forget, assignments are due next week. Don’t be late and don’t hesitate.” The professor chuckled at his own attempt at a joke. He was an oddball, old Schmidty.
I packed away my pen and notebook, shouldering my bag as I slid out of the row and moved up the stairs. Pausing at the door, I pulled my phone out and switched it on, finding a missed call from my dad.
The sound of giggling had my head rising, and someone nudged by me rather roughly. Fair enough, I was standing in the doorway like a noob but shit, calm down.
Walking outside the math building, I discovered the giggling culprit on the stairs with none other than Toby.
For some unknown reason, I paused, the hand holding my phone dropping to my side as I watched the girl reach out and playfully smack at his chest.
Tiny flames sailed down my spine at the sight, and I realized I was the one who needed to calm down. God, I didn’t even know if I liked the guy. Barely knew him, really. So I kept walking, hoping he didn’t notice me.
That hope died, but it was wrong to have in the first place, seeing as I wanted him to notice me. To follow me, to place his hand on my arm like he was, and to spin me around on the pebbled path. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I said, rather dumbly, trying to avoid his gaze.
“Been thinking of my offer?”
His hand fell from my arm, and I scuffed my ballet flat over the white pebbles. “Not really.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly, and I looked up then. Right up into the sea blue of his eyes. “You see, I’ve been doing some thinking myself.”
Stunned, I merely blinked in response.
Chuckling huskily, he carried on, “I think …” He stepped closer. Close enough for me to get a whiff of his cologne, the aroma like spiced butter. “You’ve been thinking about it and more.”
“And more?” I laughed. “More what?”
Reaching out, he tucked some hair behind my ear, and surprisingly, I stood still and let him. His touch was feather soft, a screaming contradiction to the turbulent intensity of his eyes as he stared down at me. “You’ve been thinking about me. Probably just as much as I’ve been thinking about you.”
My breath was fleeting, and I couldn’t catch it as I tried to respond.
He didn’t give me a chance. “Come to a party tomorrow night. Just have a few drinks with me.”
“I’m not going out with you.”
“Who said anything about that?” He sank his hands into his pockets. “You can even show up yourself, but I’ll be there, and I’d like it if you were too.”
“Why do you want to see me again?” I couldn’t understand it; he didn’t know a thing about me.
His expression turned blank. “I’ve got no fucking idea. I just do.”
My phone rang in my palm, startling me. After winking, he gestured to it. “You get that. I’ll see you tomorrow. The street behind my place, number three.”
He strode away, and I stared after him, lifting my phone and answering the call without even checking who it was.
“Hey, baby girl.”
Fuck on a shit sundae.
“Hi, Dad.” I started walking toward the cafeteria, wanting a quick bite before my next class.
“I didn’t know if you’d be in class or not, but I thought I’d try to check in anyway.” He sounded wary as if he didn’t know what to say. That made two of us.
“Yeah,” I said croakily, then cleared my throat. “Just finished. Um, how are you?”
“Good, good,” he was quick to answer. There was a pause, and then his voice lowered. “Miss you guys.”
“We know.”
We did know. But we’d heard less from him since he met his new girlfriend in therapy. Felicity was like Voldemort in our house. You never whispered her name. My mom was liable to bake herself into a frenzy or worse, break out the wine and her Dirty Dancing DVD.
“Felicity has mentioned quite a few times that she’d like to meet you guys soon, but ah …” He coughed a little, and I wondered if he was smoking again. He had on and off when we were kids. “I didn’t know whether you guys would be okay with that or not.”
“That’s a definite no.” He was quiet then, and I sighed. “Look, Dad. I’m happy you’re doing well. But the rest of us? We’re still adjusting. It’s probably just not a smart idea right now.”
“Yeah, I figured.” A sigh left him. “Drew won’t even answer my calls lately.”
Drew used to, albeit grudgingly. He wanted to speak to our dad more than he was mad at him, but since we heard about Felicity, that started to change somewhat. When asked, he said he didn’t care. But I knew he did.
“Give him some time.” What else could I say? It wasn’t up to me to fix Dad’s mess for him. “I gotta go, kay? Take care.”
I hung up before he could reply, stuffing my phone into my bag and walking by a rowdy bunch of girls hanging outside the cafeteria.
Between Toby and that phone call, I needed more than a bite to eat.
I wanted a dozen donuts followed by a damn nap.
I arrived at practice fifteen minutes earlier than I needed to; after all, I wasn’t in the position to be flaking in any way. But it was clear I was still one of the last to show up.
Coach walked in at five to six, rubbing one eye and glaring at his clipboard with the other. “Hawthorne, a quick word?”
The blood in my veins froze, making my movements feel stiff, but I managed to close my locker. The room went silent, no one giving me shit. They knew the severity of the situation and wisely didn’t say a word.
The morning air was crisp, the grass still covered in dew as I followed Coach outside the gym.
“Right. I didn’t want to have to do this here, but I know how you can be.” At my narrowed brows, he shook his head. “Don’t give me that baloney. If I’d called you into my office, you might not have shown, or you’d come in tearing shit up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” It stung. Mainly because he was probably right.
He gave me a look that said to shut up. My mouth snapped closed.
“I’m not gonna pussyfoot around it, so I’ll just tell it to you straight. Our offense would take a hit without you. You’ve been playing well, showing up, and doing the right thing.” A sigh left him as he studied me a beat. “But for how long? How long until something happens that sends you careening into another player’s fist?”
Swallowing, I shifted on the grass. “I’ve got it under control. I swear.”
He scrutinized me for a minute that seemed to drag into five. “You taking meds?”
Surprised, I stepped back. “What?”
“You heard me, boy. Are you taking any damn meds?”
I didn’t know what the right answer here would be, so I chose to go with honesty. “No.”
The expression on his face didn’t change as he asked, “Why?”
Why? How the hell could you explain to someone more than twice your age that you just didn’t want to without sounding like an immature, stubborn brat? That you didn’t like the way they made you feel, the way they affected everything? It seemed like any of those responses wouldn’t be good enough, so I asked something else. “Am I staying?”
The silence that followed pierced my ears; every limb in my body tense and preparing for some invisible threat.
“That’s up to you.” He lowered his voice. “We’ve all got demons, boy; some of us are just better at putting a damn leash on them. Find a way to control them, or you’re out.”
Relief rained over me, loosening my muscles and warming my blood. “I’m good. I’ll keep it together.”
Seemingly appeased—for now—he nodded. “Hit the weights. But be warned, Hawthorne. If I don’t think you’re in any state to play, you will be benched. Can you deal with that?”
I didn’t know if I could, but it seemed stupid to admit that, so I said, “Yeah, I get it.”
Back inside the gym, Quinn spotted me, asking quietly under his breath, “All good?” as Coach barked at Ed.
It wasn’t, not exactly. But it was the best I could hope for after the stunt I pulled at the play-offs. “All good.”
Laughter and music warred together, the air stale and suffocating. This place always smelled like moldy ass.
Why the hell didn’t they clean it?
Was that fucking cheese sitting on the counter? Surrounded by beer kegs and potato chips. Who leaves a block of fucking cheddar cheese out on the counter unwrapped?
I poked it quickly. Warm. Fuck me. What was wrong with some people?
I knew enough about myself to know it wasn’t the cheese that was bothering me, but that was still gross.
Rinsing my finger under the tap, I eyed the dirty dishes and inwardly cringed. Not my fucking problem.
Exhaustion pulled at the fraying layers of my mind.
Did Coach hate me? Maybe he just worried in his own hard-ass kind of way, but I didn’t know what to make of it.
Benched. I didn’t want to get benched. It was the equivalent of getting put in the damn naughty corner in preschool, in my opinion.
Perhaps he had it in for me.
My mother’s face flashed behind my eyes. She’d put me in the naughty corner a few times.
My dad always got me out. She’d called him too soft, saying I needed to know when I did something wrong.
I was eight.
And I think we had a cat. Sponge. Where did Sponge go?
No, wait. It wasn’t our cat. It belonged to the neighbors.
Mike walked into the kitchen and surveyed the drinks, then walked back out empty-handed. Mike wouldn’t get benched. Even if he did, he’d take it like the real man he thought he was. Fucking Goody-Two-Shoes. Who did he think he was anyway?
“Toby, hey.”
I grunted, ignoring whoever said that.
“Toby?”
I held up a hand because I was fucking busy, and she scoffed, “Whatever.”
Whoever she was walked away. Fuck, now I’d lost my train of thought.
What was I thinking? What am I thinking?
Frustration curled my fingers, sending vibrations up my arms as my fists clenched tightly.
I should go home. Yeah, I’m going home. I’m fucking tired anyway.
The music started back up. I raised my heavy head from where I’d been staring at the gray tiles and shook it.
Spying a bag of potato chips, I decided I was hungry. I found an unopened one and tugged it open, shoving a handful into my mouth and crunching down.
I had a headache the size of this damn house. I shouldn’t be drinking. Glancing around the kitchen, I skirted by a couple who bounced into the fridge.
Where are the painkillers?
“Yo, Tobester,” Ray slurred, punching me in the arm. “Fucking great run last weekend, dude.”
“Call me Tobester one more time, Ray, and I swear to God—”
“Hey,” Pippa said.
My frustration abated some as I glanced over at her, the fog clouding my mind dissipating somewhat.
Christ, I’d almost forgotten about inviting her here tonight, and I was about to leave. I wanted to leave. Maybe she’d come with me.
“Hey,” I said, trying to remember what I’d worn. Jeans, black. T-shirt, gray. Boots. Wait, what briefs had I put on? I always wore briefs. I fucking hated free balling.
Pippa’s smile distracted me. She actually smiled at me. Displaying straight white teeth and a new glint in her eye. God, she was beautiful.
“What are you doing?” I blurted without thought.
Her smile dropped, and her friend Daisy appeared behind her. “You asked me to come.”
“I know,” I said.
Her frown was adorable, but I wanted to see her smile again. “You’re seriously beautiful.”
A shocked burst of laughter flew out of her. “Are you already drunk?”
I fucking wished. “Nah.” I sniffed, thinking I needed to find a way to get this back on track. I couldn’t go home yet, not when she was here. “Wanna come sit out back?”
She shrugged, and I followed her and Daisy outside.
Cynthia from my English lit class sidled up to me as I was walking over to grab the girls a beer. “Hey, did you take notes today?”
What kind of fucking question was that? “I did.”
I looked over at her when she said nothing, and her lips pursed as she pulled her blond hair over her shoulder, displaying fake tanned skin. I fucked her last year at a party right before Christmas break. Did she want another go? I glanced over at Pippa, found her watching me, and decided that although I wouldn’t touch Cynthia again, I wanted to play a little.
Moving closer, I let my arm brush Cynthia’s and heard her breath catch. “Beer?” I offered.
“Sure,” she practically whispered.
I gave her one of the already poured cups, her fingers caressing mine as she took her time taking it from me. Meeting my gaze with a sly smile, she said, “Thanks.”
“No worries,” I mumbled, suddenly losing my taste for being here again.
Warm breath smacked into my ear as she stood on her toes and whispered, “We could go upstairs to drink these?”
Clearing my throat, I forced out a light chuckle. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”
After pouring another beer, I lifted it in goodbye before taking them over to where the girls were sitting. I handed Pippa hers, unable to meet her gaze after that little stunt.
Knowing I really shouldn’t drink any more, I offered the other one to Daisy. “Beer?”
Her tone was dry as she muttered, “Why not?”
Didn’t know what was up her butt, but her tone made me laugh a little as I took a seat beside Pippa.
Burnell sat across the fire pit with Alexis sprawled all over him like a badly knitted blanket. That was probably what was eating at Daisy.
Sighing, I slouched back in my chair, my head still pou
nding. I hated days like today.
One thing. One thing was all it took to set my mind into a chaotic free fall. And no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t control it or set it right again a lot of the time.
Pippa’s presence next to me felt soothing. Without even touching her, I managed to relax a little. After some time, she made a huffing sound, and I glanced over in time to see her look away from me. Had I pissed her off? Her hair looked nice like that. It was out, but it looked like she hadn’t done anything to it. The brown waves spilled over her shoulders and back, drawing my gaze to her skin.
“You really are beautiful,” I said more to myself than to her.
“So you said.” She sighed, then took a sip of her beer. I continued to study her; the way her throat bobbed when she took a huge sip and how her eyes fluttered closed briefly.
Christ. My dick was so hard.
“Hawthorne, get over here,” Burrows said, walking outside with a case of beer. Grateful for the opportunity to calm the situation in my pants, I got up to help him put them in the cooler near the keg.
Burrows asked me about what Coach had said, and I gave him a vague answer. Not like he gave a shit anyway.
“Man, we were betting you’d get into it with the fullback from Wintergreen.”
“Nope. On my best behavior now.” I glanced around the yard in search of Pippa. She was staring at me, and my toes curled inside my socks.
I took a step toward her when Burrows continued. “If any dickhead needs a punch to the face, it’s that one. I swear he’s fucking the ref or some bullshit. That penalty was a damn joke.”
“What?” I coughed.
He cracked a beer open before saying, “Oh, yeah. Total scumbag. His dad’s loaded, though, so even if he’s not sucking him off during halftime, Daddy’s paying someone off.”
“Yeah, right.” I highly doubted that was the case but chose to humor him as I watched Pippa talk to some girl.
Burrows crapped on about the game tomorrow night, and the pounding in my head only intensified. For once, I didn’t want to talk about football. My skin itched. The music wasn’t nearly as loud out here as it was inside, but combined with the voices and the laughter, it was starting to make my ears ring.