The Freshman

by Monica Murphy

  My heart cracks. This is the sweetest thing. “So Millicent is your cat.”

  “She is now.” He stands beside me and strokes along the cat’s back. “She’s cool.”

  This guy keeps surprising me. He’s not your typical eighteen-year-old asshole, that’s for sure.

  “Your apartment is nice,” I tell him as I head for the window. The blinds are still open and I peek outside to see he has a view of the grassy area in between the buildings. “I like it.”

  “Yeah, we do too.” I glance over at him to find he’s already watching me. “Where do you live?”

  “Not too far from here, actually,” I answer.

  “We’re almost neighbors?” He lifts his brows.

  “Yep. Makes sense, don’t you think?”

  He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Our paths were bound to cross.” I don’t mean to sound like a mystical woo woo, but I sort of am. I believe things happen for a reason, and people are put into our life for a purpose. I’m not sure why Tony is in my life yet, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

  “You really think so?” he asks.

  “For sure.” I spot the chair that’s pulled away from his desk and I go to it, sitting down. “What should we do now?”

  “Participate in a Call of Duty tournament?” He smiles, and I can tell he’s teasing.

  “Oh yes. I love Call of Duty.”

  “Really?” His smile fades.

  “I’m joking,” I reassure him with a soft laugh. “Should we watch a movie?”

  “Netflix and chill?”

  “Is that still a thing?”

  “It will never not be a thing,” he says with confidence.

  “You know, I’d love to, but I should probably go home.” I check my Apple Watch. It’s already close to ten. Getting up for my eight o’clock class just about kills me, but I didn’t have a choice. “It’s getting late.”

  “You’re really going to leave? You just got here.” He plops down on the edge of the bed, his hands braced behind him, his legs spread wide.

  I immediately imagine kneeling before him. Reaching for the fly of his jeans. Undoing it slowly…

  I shove the thought out of my brain, contemplating him. He’s tempting. There’s something about him that’s so inviting.

  Too inviting, really.

  “Thank you for asking me to dinner,” I tell him.

  “Thank you for going with me.” Swear to God, he spreads his legs even further.

  “I’m going to watch you play Saturday,” I remind him.

  “Doubtful, but I’m glad you’re going to the game.”

  “If I put it out in the universe, Sorrento, that means it’s going to happen. Quit being such a doubter.” I go to him and give him a gentle swat on his thigh.

  It’s as hard as a rock.

  “You believe in that sort of thing?” He cocks a brow as I quickly step away.

  “For sure.” I nod. “Can’t wait to see your moves on the field.”

  “Wait until you see my moves in here.” He sits up, smiling, and pats the mattress.

  I laugh, thankful he lightened the mood. The tension was ratcheting up between us. If we were going to stay in here alone much longer, something definitely would’ve happened. “Thank you for the tour of your bedroom. See you Saturday.”

  He snags my hand before I can leave, pulling me toward him. I go to him willingly, toppling onto the bed, practically on top of him, and he rolls us both over so we’re laying side by side, our legs dangling off the edge of the mattress.

  “Don’t go yet,” he murmurs, reaching for my face. He cups my cheek, those brown eyes scanning my face, landing on my lips. “Stay a few more minutes.”

  I stare at him, my gaze searching. His dark eyes. The sharp nose. Cheekbones I want to kiss. Full lips I really want to kiss.

  Before I can say anything, his mouth lands on mine. Soft and sweet and oh, so persuasive. I sink into the kiss, opening for him, his tongue sliding against mine almost immediately.

  It’s dreamy. Of course kissing Tony is dreamy. I wouldn’t expect anything less. He isn’t too pushy, but he’s not too shy with it either. He kisses and kisses me as if he’s starved and I’m the only thing that will satisfy him. His big hand still cradles my face, his other hand linked with mine. He tastes good. He knows what he’s doing with his tongue. This isn’t awkward.

  Not at all.

  The kiss goes on. Becomes hungrier. We don’t stop. We barely let up for air. I roll over onto my back and he follows, hovering above me, but not really touching me.

  I want him to touch me.

  Eventually, I begin to feel restless. A little needy. I try and scoot closer, desperate to feel him, when something rubs against my head, startling me.

  We break apart, Tony chuckling. “I think Millicent is curious.”

  I glance above me to find the cat watching us, just before she ducks her head and rubs her face in my hair.

  “Watch out. She’ll keep rubbing your head, and then she’ll chew on your hair,” he warns.

  The cat does exactly that, making me giggle.

  “Right before she sinks her teeth into your skull,” he continues.

  “No way,” I say, giggling again when she rubs and rubs. It feels kind of nice. She’s purring loudly, really getting into it.

  Right before she sinks her teeth into my scalp.

  “Ow!” I duck away from her, sitting up, smoothing my hair down as I glare at the cat. She curls up beside Tony and sends me a smug look.

  Yes, a cat can look smug. This one sure does, at least.

  “Sorry about that. She’s a little weird sometimes,” he says, sitting up as well. His lips are swollen and his eyes are heavy lidded. He looks very pleased with himself.

  And very, very tempting. Meaning, I need to leave, before I do something stupid.

  Like get naked and fuck this guy when I told him I would never do that.

  I rise to my feet. “I need to head out.”

  “Don’t let Millicent drive you away,” he says with a laugh.

  “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” I lean in and drop a quick kiss on his lips, then exit his bedroom. I practically sprint down the stairs, calling out a quick goodbye to the guys before I exit the apartment.

  I flee like a criminal leaving the scene of the crime, finally taking a deep, calming breath when I’m sitting in my car and starting the engine. No one chased after me. Not Tony, and not any of his friends, though I didn’t expect them to.

  Laughter bubbles up inside my chest and I let it free, shaking my head, my hands landing on the steering wheel. I have no idea what Tony and I are doing right now, but I have to admit.

  It’s fun.

  Eleven

  Tony

  Game day. Bullshit, as usual. Sitting on the sidelines. Silently begging for a chance to play. This is a different scene compared to high school. Bigger crowds. Bigger stakes. Bigger everything. It’s intimidating. Some of the guys that are new on the team already thrive on this shit. Eli Bennett for one. He loves attention, and this atmosphere feeds his soul. He can’t wait to be top dog on campus. He’s already making plans for senior year, while I can barely wrap my head around the fact that we’re actually here.

  I’ve gotten more serious, though. I give it my all every single practice. I ask questions when we go over plays because I want them to know I’m paying attention. I want to prove it to the coaches that I want to be here.

  That I deserve to be here.

  We’re halfway through the third quarter when our star tight end gets injured. Like carry him off on a stretcher while he grimaces in pain, injured.

  Second string is out thanks to a recent knee surgery.

  “Sorrento!”

  I glance up to find the offensive line coach marching toward me, his jaw moving a mile a minute as he chews on a wad of pink gum.

  “Yeah?” I ask him weakly, unsure of his approach.

  “Grab your helme
t and get out there.” He jerks his thumb toward the field. “Your time is now.”

  Oh. Shit. I jump to my feet and shove my helmet over my head. “My time is now for what?”

  “To prove yourself to me once and for all. Get out there. Show ‘em what you got!”

  I jog out onto the field, wincing as I hear my name announced as the replacement. There are a few boos, accompanied by some weak applause. I don’t think the boos are toward me. No one knows who the hell I am. I think the fans are just pissed and sad one of our best players just got injured.

  Our quarterback Ash Davis calls a huddle and I head into it, my heart rattling around in my chest like it wants to leave my body. He says a few things about the next play, then specifically says my name.

  “Yeah?”

  “You good, bro? You’re as white as a ghost,” Davis says.

  Swallowing hard, I nod. “I’m good.”

  “You know the plays?”

  If I’m not working on classwork, I’m going over the Bulldog playbook. “Yeah.”

  “Good. Let’s go!”

  They all roar, with the exception of me. I get into position. Swear to God, I hear Bennett and Caleb yelling for me from the sidelines, and I try to tune them out.

  I tune everything out, but the QB and the plays he’s calling.

  This is it. We launch forward, me running to the right, on the outer edge. I glance over my shoulder as I keep running, see the ball sailing toward me.

  It’s also headed straight for the opposing player trying to block me.

  I jag to the left, and turn, facing Davis. I see his face beneath the helmet, his eyes wide, his expression grim as the ball falls…

  Right into my hands.

  I grip that fucker and start running, a grunt escaping me when I’m tackled to the ground.

  “And the Bulldogs get a first down thanks to freshman Anthony Sorrento!” the announcer says.

  The crowd goes wild.

  I rise to my feet, glaring at the asshole who took me down. He glares back.

  “Lucky catch.”

  “Fuck off,” I mutter as I rejoin my team, my smile barely contained.

  “Nice play, Sorrento,” Davis says to me as we get back into position.

  His compliment makes me feel good, it’s like I’m floating on the field for the rest of the game. I make a couple of mistakes, but nothing awful. We score a touchdown. Our defense holds the other team when they have the ball. It goes like this, back and forth, right into the fourth quarter, until there are only a few more minutes on the clock and we’re leading by a touchdown and a field goal.

  The other team scores. Everyone on the sideline groans. The defensive line coach looks ready to choke someone out. It’s nonstop drama out here, and for once, I’m totally enjoying it. Because I’m actually living it, versus sitting on a bench and watching it.

  Once we have the ball back, I make a few completions and gain some yards, but never get the chance to run it into the end zone. But we do score again, and we cement the win. Normally I’m sitting on the bench throughout the game, so it’s a totally different feeling, being on the field. We all crowd in a circle, chanting and yelling. People from the stands spill out onto the field as well, including a lot of local sports reporters, and I watch in awe as we’re swarmed, treated like gods.

  I remember this feeling from high school, but it’s amplified out here. In this giant stadium instead of our little field, surrounded by thousands of onlookers in the stands. It’s kind of insane, how many people are here tonight in support of us.

  It’s also pretty fucking awesome. I can’t stop smiling.

  Ash approaches me with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder. “Didn’t think you had it in you, but good job tonight,” he says before he walks away.

  “Thanks,” I tell him but he’s already gone.

  It feels like with tonight’s game performance, I totally redeemed myself.

  The offensive line coach joins me as we all start to walk off the field.

  “You did good, son,” he says. “Would like to focus on your technique this week during practice. You could still use a little work.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, in a daze over all the congrats and compliments. Grateful as hell that he wants to work with me.

  “You know you’re playing for the rest of the season, right?” He squints at me.

  I squint back. “Seriously?”

  “Johnson’s out with that ankle break. It’s severe—in two places.” Coach’s expression is grim. “And Phillips is done for the year. His knee surgery took him out completely.”

  Phillips had pro aspirations, too. Sucks to hear his chances are most likely over.

  I enjoy football, but it’s not my everything. I don’t want to go pro. I’m a decent player, but I’m not pro material. I don’t think I have the discipline for it either.

  “Party tonight,” Caleb says to me once we’re in the locker room. Our lockers are right next to each other’s. “At the frat house. It’s already started, so show up whenever.”

  “I don’t know—” I start, but Caleb shakes his head, his fierce expression making me stop talking.

  “Nope. You’re not going to bail out like you did last time.” He grabs hold of my shoulders and gives me a shake. “We’re celebrating you tonight, asshole. You have to be there.”

  “I did nothing.” I’m trying to play it off.

  “You played,” Caleb stresses.

  “But I didn’t score.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You did great. You showed them that your heart is still in the game.” He releases his hold on me, his expression as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “I was afraid you lost your love for football.”

  I say nothing. When you have no one loving you, it’s hard to love anything else. Even football.

  Sounds fucking pitiful, but it’s true.

  “I’m exhausted,” I tell Caleb. “I just want to go home and collapse in bed.”

  “The only way I’ll let you do that is if you’ve got that hot blonde waiting for you in your bed naked,” Caleb says.

  I think of Hayden. Waiting for me. Naked in my bed.

  “Yeah. Not happening,” I say.

  Such a shame.

  “Then you’re coming to the party.” Caleb grins. “Whether you like it or not.”

  I eventually show up at the frat house with Jackson as my date. He joined this fraternity along with Caleb, and they tried to get me to join with them, but I declined. Why go through the initiation and everything else, when I could benefit from the parties through them? That’s all I care about anyway.

  The house is two-story, red brick with black shutters on the windows. It has a distinctive, almost formal appearance, yet there’s all sorts of revelry and debauchery going on inside.

  Maybe that’s the appeal.

  As we approach the massive front door that’s standing wide-open, I see there are people everywhere. On the front porch, inside the house, outside in the back yard. The moment I show my face, I’m greeted with plenty of “congratulations” and “good jobs!”. I nod and smile in return, saying thank you, shocked they’d know me. Caleb can tell.

  “You made a splash tonight,” he says with a grin. “Enjoy it.”

  I didn’t even think people knew my name, let alone could recognize my face. It’s weird.

  Once we’re inside, girls approach us, expectant smiles on their faces, their gazes directed at me.

  “You played good tonight,” a bold one says, reaching out to trail her fingernails along my arm as she walks away.

  She’s using the ‘leave them wanting trick’, and I suppose any other night it would work on me.

  I can’t help but glance around the place, wondering if Hayden is here.

  From what I can tell, she’s nowhere to be found.

  She sent me a simple text after the game.

  Told you that you’d play tonight.

  That was it. No praise. Just an I told you so.

  My re
sponse was a smiling emoji, because I had no idea how to respond. I was sort of annoyed with her flippant attitude. This girl works really hard at keeping me at a distance, and the more I realize this, the more irritated I become.

  Maybe I’m just irritated in general, I don’t know. Sexually frustrated? Yeah, probably. I feel like I’ve been teased and taunted for days, and I’m left standing alone with my limp dick in my hand.

  Metaphorically, of course.

  When we finally make it into the kitchen, Caleb offers me a hit off a weed vape he’s got tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, but I decline. Now that I’m actually playing, and will continue to play, I don’t want to get drug tested and kicked off the team. There’s too much at stake.

  Caleb always acts as if he has nothing to lose. Jackson is the same way. Booze, girls, drugs, they’ll both do it all, fuck the consequences. Caleb’s a little crazier than Jackson, though. And his recklessness is part of his appeal to the girls.

  To us too. He’s always a good time.

  As time drags on, I slam back a few beers, which leaves me feeling mellow, and find a chair in the living room to sit in, like a king surveying his castle. A few girls sit near me and start bombarding me with observations and questions. The beer has loosened my tongue, and I answer all of their questions, wishing I could find at least one of them attractive.

  But I don’t. They’re cute, don’t get me wrong, but none of them are Hayden. And despite my mild annoyance with her, if she marched in here right now and demanded I leave with her, I would.

  Women. They frustrate the shit out of me.

  “Tony!” I glance up to find Jocelyn standing there, a wide smile on her face.

  “Jos.” I rise to my feet and pull her into a hug, noticing all of the girls watching her with suspicion. I’m sure they view her as competition. “Where’s our boy?”

  “With Jackson and Eli.” She glances over at the girls sitting on the floor and offers them a little wave. “You played well tonight.”