Hustle

by Ashley Claudy

  My mom pulled up while he spoke and idles along the curb now.

  “Go back in to Tatum, we'll—”

  “I don't have a price,” I cut off Drew. “Tatum was scared tonight, I don't blame her for what she did. I don't need money to keep quiet. I don't plan on sharing this story outside of court.”

  “And what about you, Andrew? The truth can do damage to her future.”

  He inflates beside me and anger vibrates from him into me. I slide my arm around his waist, trying to calm him.

  “People can assume what they want. Looks like she got the perfect out tonight. Good for her.”

  “Andrew,” Tatum's mother starts, breathless. “We are sorry. We're willing to help you—”

  “No more help. I'll pay you back what I owe, but that's it.”

  “Is everything okay?” My mother gets out of the car, but stays by the drivers door.

  “Yes.” Tatum's father nods in my mother's direction and turns his hard gaze to us. “Then as long as we are in agreement, I'll have someone deliver the paperwork.” He smooths the edge of his jacket and turns on his heel to go back inside the hospital. His wife follows with her hand gripping her necklace.

  “Who were they?” my mother asks as they disappear inside.

  “The other girls parents,” I respond, reaching for the back door of the car, but Drew pulls open the passenger side and nudges me to sit. When I turn to him, he dips and kisses my lips.

  “Ride with your mom. I'll meet you at your place. I've got my truck here.”

  “You got your truck, from your house?” It sounded stupid, of course he did, but the idea makes my skin crawl.

  “I didn't go in. I only got my truck. A few cops were still there and had the keys.” He wraps both arms around me, pulling me against him in something sweeter than a hug, something more loving.

  “You're coming back to our place?” My mother asks from behind the wheel.

  “Yes,” I answer, absorbing the last bit of comfort from his arms. “I love you,” I let it slip into his shirt before I pull away.

  He pulls me right back into him, his lips brushing against mine in a light caress that's heavy with his emotion. “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  Drew and I don't even make a pretense of him sleeping on the couch. And my mother doesn't say anything against him following me to my room after I’ve showered and she helped me wash my hair without getting my stitches wet.

  “What happened with Tatum when you went to check on her?” I ask him as I curl into his side under the covers.

  I feel his head shake above me but don't move from the perfect spot between his shoulder and chest, close enough that I can hear his heart beat and each breath he takes.

  His fingers never stop their path over any bare skin he can find, my arms, neck, stomach—hypnotizing and reawakening each nerve with tender pleasure.

  “She was never pregnant. The doctors told me. It's good I went when I did, or I would have never known the truth. I'm sure her parents have paid off the staff by now.”

  “You think they would have lied to you, too?” I freeze in his arms, letting that piece fall into place. And as disappointed as I was that she would lie, I wasn't surprised. Not after tonight.

  “I know they would lie.” He adds his lips to the caress on my skin, brushing them across my forehead. “But baby, it's you I want to talk about. You told your story tonight, but I haven't heard how you're feeling.”

  I close my eyes and let his touch, his heartbeat, keep the most painful thoughts away. The medicine I took before laying down is starting to kick in, helping to keep me from thinking. “Right now, I'm feeling okay. Like this, I feel good. Tired, but warm and safe. I don't want to think about the rest of it.”

  “Then we'll stay like this.” His fingers trail up and down my spine, and his chin rests on top of my head. “Go to sleep, baby. I'll stay with you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I cling to his waist and drift to sleep to the steady sound of his heart.

  * * *

  “Where did your mom go?” Andrew asks as he glances over his shoulder to the driveway where my mom’s car is missing.

  “To visit London.” I grab my jacket from the coat wrack.

  “Already?”

  “She's doing what she needs to do.” I give him a warning look to pull back his frustration, and I leave the house for the first time in days, relieved that there are no reporters out front this time. “How was practice?”

  “It went as expected. Everyone's distracted and it shows. Even with my suspension lifted, it's going to take a while to get back into a new routine and for everyone to adjust with four main player's suspended after the raid.” His hand slides to my back as he opens the passenger door. “They knew the risk when they got involved, though.”

  I spent the week at home, not going anywhere, until now. I need my stitches removed.

  Drew had been returning to campus during the day, but spending his nights with me. He doesn't give any sign that I'm a burden, but I feel like I am, especially when he has to wake extra early to make it to practice on time. But he refuses to have it any other way. Just like he refuses to let me drive myself to the doctors.

  “The investigators visited this morning.” I jump into my news the moment we're in his truck, wanting to get it all out, and stop thinking about it. “They returned both of my phones.”

  “Both?” He stops from turning the key in the ignition.

  My throat thickens. “My newer phone they found destroyed on your property. But, my phone that went missing before, it was found in Scott's room in the frat house.”

  He swipes his hand across his mouth, sucking down the growl rolling from his throat. “Did they say he did anything with it?”

  I shake my head. “I cleared it, so there was nothing for him to do. But I don't know what he would have done anyways. I still don't get what his end game was. London hated me, Coach Kelley wanted you to stop interfering with their activity around campus. I thought Scott and TJ were there because they were involved in that, but Scott was around before. Was it always because of London?”

  “I don't think so. I mean, maybe it turned into that, but I think he liked you, first. Tatum and her friends pushed him towards you. In the very beginning, I'd hear them encouraging him when we'd be out. It would always piss me off.”

  “Yeah.” I breathe out air, letting the memories of Drew coming on to me light my darker thoughts. “You were jealous.” But I can’t quiet bring myself to laugh about it, not when thoughts of everyone else turn my stomach.

  “I wouldn't have admitted it, but hell yeah I was.” He turns the key and his truck hums as it starts. “You're the only person I'd get jealous over.” He presses me to my seat with his lips over mine, and nibbles on the bottom one before sweeping his tongue into my mouth. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, but when his fingers hit the edge of my stitches he slows. “Crap, we've got to go to make your appointment.”

  I nod, lost in the tingle that travels over my skin from his kiss.

  His hand travels down my body, light and playful as he coasts his palm over my jean covered thigh. “I wish you were wearing a skirt.”

  I do laugh then and push on his chest, letting the brief bubble of happiness rise to the surface. He'd been so careful with me all week; I liked this return of his flirty side.

  He smiles, his lips sliding against my cheek as his hand travels up my stomach. “Maybe you could show me your tits while we drive?”

  “Drew.” I slap his hand as his finger hooks in the top of my shirt.

  “I'm teasing you.” He places a lingering kiss to my chin and pulls away. “I like the way you react. But admit it, you like teasing me, too.”

  “Maybe.” I arch my back to show off my chest, still shaking with suppressed laughter as I trail my hands over the curve of breast, adjusting my bra to lift the cleavage.

  “Hm.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches me. “I lov
e it. Let's get this appointment over so I can play with them, too.”

  * * *

  “Do you not think that's a good idea?” I ask, in his arms, in my bed. This was becoming my new favorite thing. Relaxing in his arms, feeling the truth in his heartbeat, talking to him without hesitation or restraint, completely at ease.

  “No, I want you to. I told you before; you should do what you want. You shouldn't be the one that has to hide.” His fingers tickle on my arm, hesitation in his breath. “My only concern is if you really want to. If you’re ready to.” He traces the slight scab still left on my shoulder, and his breath shallows. “We talk, but we haven't talked about how you're feeling much. I know you’re strong, but it's okay if you're not ready, it's only been a week. I can't pretend to understand, but I'm here for you, and I'd do anything to protect you from more pain.”

  I let his words sink in and kiss his bare chest, over his heart. “I know you would, and that helps, that's enough. I could wait to go back to school, or not go at all, but… I really don't want to sit at home anymore with only my thoughts. I know I don't talk about it, that's because I don't want to think about it. That's why I loved working with the kids, I never thought about myself when I was with them. School lets me get out of my head, too. I had thought about completing the semester at home, but talking to my professors today, my English teacher encouraged me to still come in. And the others didn't say I couldn't come to class. Plus, going out today with you was nice.” I smile against his chest as my fingers graze over his lower stomach, and he clenches his muscles there. “I know what happened was bad, but I don't want to focus on that. I want to be happy, and you, here with me, makes me happy. Why shouldn't I be?”

  “You should be.” He rolls me onto my back, bracing his hands on either side of me, trailing kisses along my neck. “You. Deserve. To. Be. Happy. I. Love. You. Beautiful.” His fingers slide the strap of my tank over my shoulder as he places one last kiss there, and then he lifts his eyes to mine, pulling on every single one of my cells. “I'm in love with everything about you.”

  My fingers thread through the back of his hair as I pull his face to mine. “I love you, too.”

  His lips overtake mine, moving in gentle emotion charged caresses that circulate to my toes and fingers. And I feed into it, building the current with my fingers sliding up his back, nibbling at his bottom lip. Tasting him. But he takes his time, we both do. Kissing and touching till my muscles are about to snap with need. For more. For him.

  He peels my clothes from me, removing each item with caresses of fingers and lips, but he always returns to kissing me before taking off the next thing. I take as much care with him, feeling each goose bump that breaks out in waves over his skin with the palm of my hand.

  But still our lips find their way back together, like a magnet, like a necessity, like the air we needed to breathe. When he rocks into me, I trace the outline of muscles on his back, arms, torso, anywhere I can reach. Memorizing everything about him, focusing on what makes him gasp, or moan, or what touch sends a chill over his skin. When he finds a rhythm that has us both moaning, we drink each other in, mouth to mouth. Skin on skin. Soul to soul.

  There's something so raw in the moment, in his slick skin, in his breaths, in the “I love yous” that he whispers into my mouth and I return as I grip my legs around him, pulling him close. We move like the tide, steady and strong, crashing into each other over and over with pleasure. Then the swell in my core builds, and I can't hold back. His groans and thrust of his hips, sending me over the edge, until I burst. Pieces scattering into orbit, his orbit. And he finds his own release while I shake with mine.

  He collapses on me, until we both stop quivering, and our ragged breaths even. Easing off of me, he discretely discards the condom in the waste bin by my nightstand. Then he rolls to his side and pulls my back against his chest.

  Within moments he's asleep, and I snuggle into his hold and drift off, visions of our lovemaking burned behind my eyelids.

  * * *

  Drew's leaned against the wall opposite the door of my English class, his hat pulled low as he waits for me, just like everyday since I started back four weeks ago. Today’s the last day. The last exam.

  He pushes off the wall as I walk out, and he extends his arm so I can take my spot by his side.

  “Have a good break, Brook.” A red head from class says as she passes through the door.

  “Have fun visiting your sister, Terri.” I wave.

  She adds a shy, “Good luck, Andrew.”

  And he waves to her with a nod and a side glance at me. “That's the girl that gave you that note, right?”

  “Yeah.” She’d given me a note my first week back, thanking me for speaking up about TJ and saying she admired my courage. That small note helped give me confidence to return. Some other students encouraged me in little ways, too. My English professor did, as well.

  “Did you decide yet?” He asks as we walk down the sidewalk to the main road lining the front of campus.

  “I did.” I keep my lips pressed together though.

  “You're not going to tell me?” He gives me a look that drives me crazy, but I won't give in.

  “Are you going to tell me what you're getting?” I mimic his single lifted brow.

  He shakes his head. “You'll have to wait and see.”

  “Brook,” A familiar voice calls to me and I pause, but Drew goes rigid.

  “What the fuck does she want?” he groans, turning towards Rose as she cuts across the street to us.

  I place my hand on his forearm. “Let me handle it, okay.”

  He’d gone to my dorm that first week I stayed home to collect my things, and that was the last day we ever talked about her.

  “Brook, hey.” She gives me a half smile, her dark hair died red at the ends now “I…” She looks past me to Drew and shoves her hands in her coat pockets, her voice dropping. “I'm really sorry with how things went. Did you hear, TJ's getting three years in prison?” She shifts her gaze when I don't respond.

  I know that. I know about each of their sentences. Coach Kelley took a plea deal and is getting a chance of parole in twenty-five years. London hasn't had court yet, but she's confined to a psychiatric hospital and sedated most of the time. I know all of this, but I don't want to talk to her about it.

  “I really am sorry,” she speaks up when I start to walk away. “I didn't know he was like that. I didn't know any of them were like that. I didn't know that much about them. Please, don't hate me,” her voice breaks at the end.

  I turn to her then and meet her eyes, something she hadn't been able to do yet. “I don't hate you. I know you didn't know the truth.”

  “So you forgive me?” Her smile is hesitant until I nod, then it stretches.

  “Bye, Rose.” I turn away from her, and Drew grabs my hand.

  “Maybe we can get lunch sometime next semester,” she adds.

  I shake my head and respond before Drew leads me away. “I won’t be here next semester.”

  “Sometimes, I wish you weren't so fucking nice.” He's vibrating with his anger as he pulls me down the path.

  I nudge into his side. “But you love me this way.”

  He lifts my fingers to his lips, acknowledging the truth. But he can't let go of his frustration so easily. “You should cover that star with whatever you get today.”

  I bring my free hand to my lower stomach where the star is. “I love this star. It's the reason I met you.”

  He pauses, his tension releasing with a grin. “You make a good point.” Then he swoops down and grips my waist, pulling my stomach to his lips.

  “All right. Are we doing this or not?” I hold his shoulders away from me so he can't kiss my stomach anymore.

  “We're doing it.” He hooks his arm around me as we walk to the tattoo parlor. “And then I'm going to show you how much I love that star when we're done.”

  * * *

  When we're alone in his dorm, a single room the colleg
e gave him, he pulls his shirt over his head and drops it to the ground, revealing the bandage on his forearm.

  “You had to take your shirt off to show me that?” I drink in his tattooed muscles, the site never fails to excite me and make the butterflies kick up in my stomach.

  “Of course. You should take yours off, too.” He strolls over to me. “Let me help.”

  My skin heats where his eyes linger, flames trailing behind his fingers as he lifts my shirt over my head, revealing the bandage on my stomach.

  As I sit on his bed, I peel the edge of the tape to remove the gauze, my skin red and shiny where the new tattoo is.

  He does the same, but his bandage is bigger, the entire underside of his forearm.

  We inspect each other at the same time. His tattoo is sun beams traveling up his arm till it meets with his half sleeve of ink. The sunlight originates from pretty lettering, thin but with strong curves.

  It takes away my ability to breathe, but I don't need it.

  “You got my name?” I trace the letters on the underside of his wrist, Brooklyn.

  “And you got my initials?” His fingers hover over the skin of my stomach, over the crescent moon with his initials resting in the curve, next to the star. “I'm the moon?”

  I lift one shoulder. “You're so much more than that. But I wanted it to go with the star, and you ended up being this beautiful thing in the night. A force that attracts and moves things, just by being you.”

  He stretches out his arm. “And you're my sun. It seems right.”

  Seeing my name, permanently on his skin thrills me. “I thought you said the boyfriend tattoo never works?”

  “You didn't listen to me, did you?” He reapplies my bandage on my stomach and I shiver as he kisses over it.