The Boom

by Glenna Maynard

  Walking into the bar, I see a stage and I look around. The sign at the hostess station says it’s Improv night. Interesting.

  “Hey Shelly, little late but I’m hoping my table is still open?” Amaya asks the hostess.

  “Sure thing, Tiny Dancer. Follow me.”

  Chapter 8

  Amaya

  Surprisingly, Tate enjoyed the show I took him too at an improv bar. It’s a bit like watching Whose Line is It Anyway, but live. He was laughing and totally into it. I told him next time I want to see him on stage. He didn’t find that nearly as entertaining. He kept wanting to hold my hand and whispering in my ear. Making his closeness hard to ignore. Gah, he cleans up real nice too. I’m used to seeing him in workout gear or casual stuff. But that man looks mighty fine in a white dress shirt and black slacks. His butt looks so firm; I want to grab it. I didn’t have to make him change, but I like watching him squirm. I might also enjoy telling him what to do too.

  He keeps rising to every challenge I present him with, surprising me. Keith never listened to me. It felt like I was always chasing after him.

  Tate just keeps pushing. The harder I try to stay away and keep things friendly, the closer he gets to pushing down my walls. I can’t believe he is making me hold his hand in front of everyone as we walk back to the dorm so he can grab his wallet. He forgot it thanks to me rushing him out the door earlier. The whispers were already starting to circulate and now there will be full blown screams of us dating echoing all around campus.

  I’m not ready for this but I want Keith to back off. I thought seeing the theater in live action would be good for Tate and it gets his hands off me on the dance floor for a night. Not that I am minding them much right now. I could have worse prospects.

  When we get to the tower, some clinger walks up to us and says with a sad smile, “So it’s true. Tate King is off the market?”

  I start to say no, but Tate cuts me off. “That’s right, Amaya’s my girl.” He kisses the top of my head and grins like he is so damn proud to be mine.

  Why does he have to be so damn sweet?

  Why can’t he let me hate him from afar?

  Okay, hate is a strong word. I don’t hate the guy, not even a little, but I’m scared of getting hurt again. Tate doesn’t date. Everyone knows he has a reputation for not getting tied down.

  So, why me?

  What’s changed?

  Does he see me as a challenge?

  “Well, the female population is probably going to go into a panic of depression with that news.” She gives pause. “You guys look good together.” She shoots me a sincere smile and walks away.

  “Well, that was...” I trail off.

  “That was Beth, she’s not as bad as some of the others. Actually, she’s been a somewhat bodyguard for me ever since, uh, yeah, and keeps the crazier chicks away from me.” He scratches at the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed.

  We’re not together, I have no right to what I’m feeling at the moment, so I shake it off. “You don’t have to be embarrassed talking about your sexcapades. We could even share and swap stories,” I say sounding excited, although I’m really trying to hide the jealousy that he’s been with others.

  His eyes narrow at me and he looks pissed. “Listen, I’m not sharing that shit with you, and you are damn well not going to share that shit with me. That’s something we don’t need to know about each other. When, and I mean this, when we finally get together, then we can be open and honest with each other about how many people we’ve been with. That’s it. We are not sharing sexual stories of any other kind. Got me.”

  He’s glaring into my eyes, waiting for me to respond, but I just nod instead of opening my mouth. I’m half terrified I’ll end up blurting out that I need him right here and now.

  “Good.” He grabs my hand and pulls me along.

  I wait in the lobby while he runs up to get his money. Girls keep staring at me like they want to pat me on the back or claw my eyes out. My ears are burning; I just know they are whispering about me. I keep staring at the elevator trying to will Tate to step from it every time the doors slide open. I’m not used to this kind of attention. I’m only used to people watching me perform.

  Tate comes out from the stairwell a few minutes later.

  “Let’s get something to eat.”

  I nod and there he goes again grabbing my hand and hugging it tightly with his. I’m starting to like the way he takes control a little too much. We walk a few blocks to a quiet diner I come to when I want privacy to pig out. The place is all kinds of awesome. Decked out and made up to look straight from the 1950’s. The barstools are black and white checkered; the booth seats are too.

  The walls are painted an aqua blue, trimmed in hot pink. The cash register sits in the dash of an old hotrod. I love this place. They even have an old-timey jukebox that plays a lot of Johnny Cash and Elvis.

  Tate grins taking it all in.

  “I can’t believe you never been here.” I shake my head sliding into the booth.

  He tries to sit with me, but I motion for him to sit across from me. He chuckles but does as I want. I need a little space. Tate sucks the air from me, he’s is so intense.

  Not wanting him to see me eating like a pig, I stay safe just ordering one plate of food. The waitress looks at me funny, she knows I come here often, and usually eat a lot. I order their Made in The Shade Platter. It comes with eggs, pancakes, bacon, and grits. It’s a big plate and a few times he offers to finish it off if I can’t. He is eyeing me like he can’t believe I’ve ate as much as I have already. So, when I’m about to finish the last bit, I decide to push the plate at him to finish. I seriously don’t need to scare him off, not yet anyways. I’m starting to want him around for more than keeping Keith away.

  I’m terrified but I can’t seem to stay away from Tate.

  Tate orders us a malt shake with two straws. It’s cheesy but totally cute. He is gazing at me intently as we both suck on our straws. He swallows and sits back. “Tonight’s been fun.”

  “Yeah,” I admit, because I’ve had a great time with him. Gah, I am falling under the Tate King spell. I don’t even want to fight him on it anymore. At least not right now.

  I keep waiting for him to kiss me goodnight as we walk home but he only holds my hand. It’s nice and disappointing. Maybe he really does want to only be friends.

  The thought bothers me more than it should. This is what I wanted from him, so why do I feel rejected?

  He walks to the outside of the street like a true gentleman. Keith never did little things like that. Tate is so freaking thoughtful.

  Back at the dorms, he gives me a brief side hug at my door. I don’t even know how to take it. It was a hug someone gives a relative to avoid touching their boobs or something. I feel like I should invite him in, but I feel stupid. He looks at me expectantly. Does he want me to make a move? I’m so not making the first move here.

  “So, thanks for dinner.”

  He just nods and leaves. What just happened here? Is he for real. He’s been trying to make moves on me and now that I want him to he won’t. Men!

  “See ya around,” he calls over his shoulder with a small wave, as he walks down the hall.

  I open the door and lean my back against it with a sigh once its closed.

  “What’s with you?” Court eyes me speculatively.

  “Nothing,” I snap.

  Ignoring her inquisitive stare, I go to the fridge and breakout my emergency supply of chocolate cake icing.

  I flop down on the couch with my spoon in my mouth, the metal clangs against my teeth. I flip through the TV channels looking for a cheesy movie to perfect my self-wallowing pity party.

  Court gets in front of the screen. “You ready to tell me what’s going on with you?”

  “Nope.” I try to look past her at the guide channel. “Do you mind?” I hold my spoon up threatening to flip icing at her.

  She throws her hands up and steps aside in submis
sion. “Fine. But when you want to talk, I’m here for you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I wave her away. I should be going over my lecture notes, but I decide to watch Cry Baby with yummy Johnny Depp instead.

  Chapter 9

  Tate

  I almost didn’t want to say goodbye to Amaya tonight, but I felt that maybe I came off a bit too strong and she looked scared. Instead of giving her a kiss goodbye like I wanted to I just walked off.

  Opening the door to my room, the guys are all still hanging around. “What are you all still doing here?” I ask.

  “We wanted to find out what that was tonight,” Big Tex says in the most girlish voice I’ve ever heard, fluttering his eyes like a doofus.

  “Yeah, like spill,” Adams chimes in.

  I glare at them and look to Bucky. “You chime in next, my foot is curb stomping your face.”

  He shrugs. “Wasn’t gonna say shit, at least not in the fucking pussy ass way they did. I just want to know what the hell that was. You’ve never let a girl step foot inside your space, ever.”

  I shrug. “Amaya is different. And that’s all you’re getting out of me. My business, not yours.”

  Big Tex whistles.

  I look to him and cut him off with a look. “Don’t. I’m going to bed. Anyone that doesn’t live in this room needs to leave.” I stomp to my room and shut the door, laying on my bed.

  Would Amaya still be up?

  Should I go to her, kiss her?

  Would she slap me?

  Fuck, I sound like a woman.

  Amaya has me wrapped around her finger tighter and she doesn’t even know it. I’m going to have to avoid her for the next day or two, just to grow my dick back. Which is shitty, since I was hoping to surprise her, by taking her to that damn ballet she’s going to see.

  I’m afraid that would be too much too soon. I lay in bed tossing my football up to the ceiling and catching it.

  I should be studying the playbook, for the big game, but those damn kissable lips of Amaya’s dominate my thoughts until I fall asleep.

  **

  It’s probably better that I’m planning to avoid my girl today. My plate is full. I have an hour at the gym, two team meetings, and a class all by noon. By the time lunch rolls around, I’m in desperate need of some recovery. After I eat, I’m taking a nap before I have practice. Our season is getting ready to start and the first game sets the course.

  I’m sitting with the guys out in the quad after eating two footlong subs. It’s not too hot and the trees are providing a nice shade. I pull an extra shirt from my bag and ball it up for a pillow on top of my bag. Adams promised to wake me up ten minutes before we head to practice.

  It feels like I have barely dozed off when his shadow passes over me. My eyes pop open and he holds a hand out to help me up. I feel drunk from lack of sleep. I pop two pain relievers for my headache and down a bottled water.

  I’m walking to practice when Keith getting in Amaya’s face stops me. He’s asking her to give him a chance and to take her out to dinner.

  “Come on. One meal. That’s all, baby. I’ll even take you to that fancy seafood place you like.”

  “Don’t call me your baby. I’m not your anything, and I’m sure as hell not going anywhere with you ever again.” My girl holds her own, but the fucker is relentless.

  “Amaya, please? I’ll get down on my knees if you want me to. Say the word.”

  I step up, interrupting his pathetic attempt. “Not happening.” I am sure to make it clear that Amaya is off limits. I think for once he gets the hint when he stalks off in the direction I’m headed.

  “Tate, you don’t need to save me all the time.” Amaya is still trying to be stubborn, saying she doesn’t like the attention. We talk a bit more until I realize I’m running late. Shit.

  I throw my hands up and leave her to it then. I don’t have time to argue, I gotta get on the field.

  “King!” Coach’s voice booms from the field. “You’re late. Six laps and twenty burpees. Try to avoid getting in the way of the players that are actually taking today seriously.”

  I drop my bag and get started, it doesn’t take me long to finish the task he has me doing.

  I jog over to Coach hoping he’ll let me practice now and apologize for being late.

  “How’s the ankle?” he asks.

  “Hurting a bit today but it’s no big deal, I’m fine.”

  “We’re gonna take it easy then.”

  Coach Mallard has me doing an opposite foot drill, to give my bad ankle a rest, since it is my throwing foot. After twenty passes, I move on to the next drill.

  Coach blows the whistle to end practice. “Hit the showers ladies, and King, try not to be late tomorrow.”

  Chapter 10

  Amaya

  Keith approaches me cautiously. His hand is wrapped and bandaged in gauze. What the fuck happened to his hand? He’s smoking a cigarette with the other. Gross.

  “I just wanted to apologize for the club. I’ve not been myself lately, but I’m sorting my shit out. I need you Am.” I feel kinda bad for him but that doesn’t excuse his actions. His hair is disheveled, black circles ring under his eyes. He looks tired and hungover.

  “Keith, I’d like to say I’m happy you are getting it together and that I’ll be your friend, but I can’t do that. I hope you move on with your life and do well for yourself. But it won’t be with me.”

  “There’s no life for me without you in it. We were good together. We can get that again.”

  “No, Keith, we can’t. I don’t love you. I don’t want to be with you, not now and not ever. I’ve moved on, you need to do the same.”

  “You don’t get it. My parents, you know how much pressure they put on me.” He tries grabbing my hand with his good one, but I step back out of his reach. “I still haven’t told my parents we split up, I just said you were away over the summer, they would be beyond pissed if they knew. You know how much they adore you. They’ll be coming to the first game, say you’ll be there, pretend for them—that we’re still together, please.”

  “That’s not my problem. I will be going to the first game, but it won’t be for you, I’ll be going for Tate,” I lie. “So, you should probably tell them we’re over. I have to go. I have plans.” I start walking away.

  “Wait,” he calls out, and I stop even though I should just keep walking. “The Halloween auction is coming up. I hope you win my bid.”

  I sigh and start to say something about my hating him but think better of it, what is wrong with him, why can’t he just take a hint?

  “At least let me take you to dinner to make up for being such an ass.” He offers to take me to my favorite seafood place. Ugh.

  “Not gonna happen,” Tate says from behind me. “I told you before, Amaya is with me now. You need to accept it and move on. You gotta quit harassing my girl, or I’m gonna have a talk with Coach.”

  I don’t need Tate fighting my battles but think better of mentioning it right now with Keith present. I want him to think I’m with Tate so he’ll back off. It doesn’t matter what Keith thinks. I’ll know the truth, but the more time I spend with Tate the line is beginning to blur. Tate wraps his arms around me.

  Keith looks sad and walks away slowly, defeated. As much as I hate him, I don’t like hurting him on purpose.

  Tate squeezes me into a hug. “What’d he want this time?”

  “You know if you keep this up, people are going to talk.” I change the subject.

  “So, let them talk. They already do. What we do is none of their business. It’s between me and you. No one else.”

  “That might not bother you, because you’re used to the attention. I like just being me. I don’t need people trying to come at me to get to you. Tate, you don’t need to save me all the time.”

  Tate doesn’t say much more. “Oh shit, Coach is gonna kill me, I’ll chat with you later, Amaya.” He runs trying to make it to practice without being late.

  I’ve gotta
get going myself. I start jogging and pray I can still make it on time. Getting into the dance hall, I’m exactly on time, everyone is just now walking into class. Thank god.

  “Class, get into position. Now, as you all know, our late fall production happens in November. This year we will be doing a theme based on the popular children’s movie Frozen.” She pauses waiting to see if anyone will say anything. When no one does she carries on. “Class today will be about me watching each and every one of you, to see which role you are getting. Instead of people auditioning for certain parts, I will just pick who gets what at the end of this session.” She claps her hands together and turns on the music.

  We skip barre warmups. Moving straight to arch presses and warming up our arms and necks.

  Madam Webster divides us in groups of five to observe us.

  The rest of us watch too while waiting for our turn to shine. Some people wrap their shoes while others do a few more stretches.

  Finally, it’s my turn and I can only hope my leaps and turn outs are strong. I go through the set feeling confident. I end with reverence and can only hope she took notice of my improved form.

  “That’s it for class today everyone. I will be thinking over the parts tonight and will reveal who gets what part in class tomorrow.”

  I pick up my bag and head out of the dance hall. I did my best, maybe it wasn’t good enough, but I hope I at least get something. This could be my big break. Scouts always come to the fall recital and it will be my chance for them to see me.

  I don’t see or hear from Tate for the rest of the evening. Which is probably a good thing after that encounter with Keith today. Courtney is still at work when I get home, so I just head in to bed once I’ve showered and had dinner. After the day I had, I’m exhausted, I don’t care that it’s only eight.

  **

  A knock on our door wakes both Courtney and I up around two in the morning.

  “What the fuck?” Courtney grumbles, getting up from her bed. “Who the fuck is knocking, ugh!”

  I get up and walk with her to the door. She opens it slightly and tries to slam it shut right away. “Oh hell no!” She shouts.