by CoraLee June
Legacy was massaging his chest, starting at his glorious pecs and working her way up to his shoulders. She clearly thought she had already won a non-existent competition. I wanted to tear her off of him.
“Come on, Baby. Let’s go home,” I cooed. Drunk Oakley was like an excited toddler, coddled and enticed with the temptation of candy.
I was the candy in this scenario, despite how ridiculous I looked.
“He doesn’t need a babysitter, Amanda.” Legacy laughed at my attempt to lure Oakley out of the bar. She was drawing lazy circles on his chest with her long nails. If it wouldn’t have looked ridiculous, I bet she would have straddled him right there in the middle of the bar. I mentally rolled my eyes at what she thought was a display of dominance.
“Oakley? Come on. Come home with me,” I said softly.
He quickly pushed everyone away, as if he’d just realized we had an audience. His movements were slow and forced, each choppy extension of his limbs was like wading through syrup.
“I didn’t kiss thennnn,” he slurred, swaying toward me. “Why didn’t you fall—call?”
“I’ll explain when we get back. Come on, I’m going to fix this.”
Seeing Oakley drunk broke me. He was struggling today, and I wasn’t there for him. This wasn’t about me being his publicist. This was about being his friend—his person.
“You’ve always been an attention whore, Amanda. Can’t even let the poor man drink. He’s had a hard day, and you’re making it about yourself. You always fucking make it about yourself,” Legacy spat. She realized she had lost, and insulting me was a last ditch effort, trying to regain her control.
Oakley’s face twisted up in rage, but this was one battle I wanted to fight for myself. “That’s rich coming from you,” I snarled. “You humiliated me to make yourself look better.”
“You humiliated yourself. I was just along for the ride,” she sneered.
“We were supposed to be friends. I’m responsible for my actions, yes, but when you care about someone, you protect them. You don’t show the world their indiscretions while you laugh on the sidelines. That is what I’m doing for Oakley right now, protecting him.”
I took a step closer to Legacy, seeing her with clear eyes for the first time. She was trying just as hard to fit a role as I had been; the only difference was I escaped it. All the anger fled my body, and a surprising emotion overcame me: pity.
“I wish I could hate you, but you probably saved my life that night, Legacy.” Her eyes widened in shock, as if she wasn’t expecting that. “You forced me to change—to be better. And I hope one day you learn that you are beautiful and capable of better things, too. I’m not letting you walk all over me with your knock off Louis Vuitton heels anymore. You are nothing. No one. I don’t want or need your validation anymore. And when my boyfriend isn’t drunk—”
“I’m still your boyfriend?” Oakley interjected, his voice sloppy and full of awe. I ignored him but felt a burst of affection.
“He’s not going to want you. He wants something real—something you’re not capable of being right now because you’re too busy tearing others apart and using their mistakes to make yourself look superior.”
“Yep. What she said,” Oakley added, making the growing crowd watching us laugh. Legacy’s face soured as she realized they were laughing at her. It was probably something she wasn’t used to, considering she was usually the one pointing the finger.
I took Oakley’s hand and led him out of the bar. I didn’t look back at Legacy as we left; I wasn’t about to give her another second of my time. My mom helped me get Oakley settled into the backseat of the car, and she started the drive home.
“Thank you fer coming to get me, Solbeer,” Oakley slurred as he fell asleep with his head in my lap.
28
Oakley slept like the dead. I, however, was up before the sun, because apparently being drunk made snoring about a billion times worse. It was a cycle, his soft gentle purr escalating into a burst of roaring snores, finishing with one final explosive snore. A snorgasm.
I sat up in the bed, all protective feelings from earlier gone. I was now thinking about whether or not I could get away with smothering him with my pillow. I finally gave up on the idea of getting any more sleep and opened up my laptop. I was briefly concerned about the bright screen waking Oakley up, but he snorgasmed again, and my moment of concern passed.
I wanted to face my demons head on, so I pulled up Instagram to see what the damage was. I didn’t even bother looking at the tagged posts, I went straight to the last photo he’d shared. I knew the first step would be to delete any unsavory comments or maybe turn off commenting altogether. The photo was of him on the airplane that brought us here, with his award winning smile and bright, hopeful eyes. He looked hot as hell. With a deep breath, I started reading.
LickMyKitty69: Omg did you get arrested for defending your gf?
Mrs.Hemsworth20: I want to sit on your face.
Comefeelme: Amanda Matthews is one lucky gurl.
ItWasntMe: #PutOakleyBackInTheGame #NoFatShaming
ILikeToBeChoked91: I would have punched that dude, too.
ClevelandHotWaffle: Oakley! I have a great opportunity for you. If you’d like to make extra income while working on your phone, join my #Bossbabe empire.
TheKentuckyKlondikeBar: #TeamOakley #TeamAmanda #FuckBodyShamers
Smashturbating: I got pregnant just looking at this photo.
What? How did they know about… I quickly started searching, and it didn’t take me long to find what had everyone buzzing. A full video of what happened last night was uploaded by a girl I didn’t recognize. Based on her Instagram feed, she obviously attended USC, but I had never seen her before. I clicked on it and watched with a frown, shame filling me up as the embarrassing debacle played like a movie before me.
It hurt to watch, but it also angered me. And apparently, it angered others, too. The hashtag #FuckChuck was trending across various platforms. A quick check of my email showed that a few news sources wanted an exclusive with Oakley. I reached for Oakley’s phone and saw hundreds of missed calls, the latest one from Dale.
On a whim, I called him back. “Dude, where are you? Our flight leaves in an hour,” he answered in a rush.
“Hello, Dale,” I scolded like a sinister villain about to feed her opponent to sharks. “I’m so glad we could talk.”
“Fuck, Balls. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to see a girl I went to high school with. A man has needs.”
Yep. I was going to kill Dale. “That is the most bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard in my life. You got a right hand, Dale?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How about a left hand. You got one of those?”
I could feel his shame through the phone. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Next time you think about ruining somebody’s future for some pussy, I want you to wrap one of those hands around your tiny little cock and do the two bump chump into a tissue like normal horny assholes.”
“I’m more than a two bump chump—”
“I highly doubt it,” I snarled.
“But I fixed it! Didn’t you see the video?” he sputtered.
“You uploaded that?” I asked incredulously. “How?”
“The girl I was with. She caught it on camera, and we bailed when the cops showed up. You probably didn’t see us. I figured if everyone knew the truth, it would help.”
I let out a slow exhale. “And you didn’t think that I wouldn’t want my naked video to go viral?” It was mostly blurred out so people couldn’t see the actual footage, but I bet it was only a matter of time until it resurfaced.
“Well…” he replied, dumbfounded. “No. No, I didn’t. Want her to take it down?”
“It’s too late, Dale,” I shouted, making Oakley stir. Good. I was ready for a nice long chat with him. “It’s out there, and you’re lucky my hooha isn’t clearly visible, or I would have filled your sinuses with urine and boiled your tee
th.”
“Fuck, Balls. That's terrifying. Who even says shit like that?”
“Oh, you have no idea. Looking forward to chatting again. Try not to do anything stupid during your flight home,” I said as I clicked the little red button to disconnect the call.
I turned to look at Oakley, who snapped his eyes closed the moment I saw him. “If you think pretending to sleep is going to help, I still have some good threats left in me,” I growled.
“Fuck. How bad is it? Where are we? What did I do last night?” he asked in a groggy voice that had no business sounding as sexy as it did.
“Well, you’re not in jail, so it could be worse,” I started. Oakley winced when I mentioned jail. “You went out to the bars last night. Do you remember anything?”
“Uhhh, yeah. I do,” Oakley said as he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. I waited for him to elaborate.
“Well?” I prodded when he didn’t volunteer anything on his own.
“I’m so sorry, Amanda. I know I promised I wouldn’t party anymore,” he began. He paused and looked like he was trying to find the right words to say. I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging look, but I was tired and still kind of raw. I probably looked about as reassuring as a grizzly bear.
“I thought that I lost you and ruined my career all on the same day. It’s not an excuse, but I was so mad at myself. I was devastated and didn’t want to feel anything anymore,” Oakley finished.
His vulnerability completely melted my heart, and I wrapped my arms around Oakley, squeezing him tight. My penis fly trap started to tingle, excited to be this close to Oakley again. I willed it to settle down, as it clearly had no concept of timing.
“I’m sorry too. I was so focused on myself that I completely shut you out, and I wasn’t there for you,” I told him. “I just didn’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to shut me out,” he whispered. “I’m here for you, babe.”
“Do you remember Legacy?” I asked. “Or the other girls hanging all over you? That stung.” I had empathy for needing to forget, but it still hurt to see him so drunk he didn’t realize that a bunch of women were circling him like hawks.
“I remember the girl of my dreams waltzing into that bar, wearing the cutest—no—sexiest pajamas I’ve ever seen. I remember her taking charge. Being there for me. I remember seeing you tell that girl off while still being the better person.”
“Your memory is impeccable for someone who drank an entire bottle of vodka,” I spat.
Oakley reached out and pulled me on top of him, bringing his mouth to mine for a makeup kiss that was laced with stale alcohol and morning breath. I didn’t even care, I just wanted more.
I let my hands wander over Oakley’s delicious muscles as I deepened our kiss. I let out a small gasp as his hand slipped under my shirt and found the contour of my breast, teasing my nipple with his thumb.
I was still kind of mad. Still kind of hurt. But mostly, I was still kind of falling for this man.
He pulled away from my mouth and started kissing my stomach, slowly working his way down. He reached the line of fabric where my panties met my skin and took them in his teeth—right as my mom came through the bedroom door, saying something about breakfast.
“Oh! Oh my. So, uh, good to see you both have worked things out,” Mom said, giggling nervously. She lingered as Oakley practically flung his body off the bed. “I can see why she likes you.”
Oakley hit the floor and gathered the thick comforter up at his waist, likely to hide his monster erection from my mother. She stared at his hands before realizing how inappropriate she was being. “Breakfast is ready!”
She spun around and was about to leave when she paused to whisper. “I’m not like regular moms, I’m a cool mom. But my husband will skin you alive if you have sex with our daughter while he’s flipping pancakes in the next room for you.”
“Copy that,” Oakley replied nervously. I could see him blushing from here and had to stifle a giggle.
“Toodles!” Mom waved, leaving the guest room. The moment the door closed, Oakley let out a sigh.
“Fuck. You could have told me your parents were here!”
“You distracted me,” I argued with a smile. “With pissing me off, then kissing me, and that thing you do with your lips…”
“I need a cold shower.”
“Yeah you do,” I joked while wrinkling my nose. “You smell like cheap perfume and the beer sweats. Besides, we have a lot of work to do this morning if we want to fix this.”
“Oh?” Oakley asked.
“Get ready, Problem. You’ve got interviews today.”
He grinned. “She’s back.”
“Who’s back? Is my mom…” I stared at the door.
“No,” Oakley replied. “You. Damn, you’re feisty. Confident. Take charge. My girlfriend is back.”
He took a step over to me, and I playfully rolled my eyes. “I thought we didn’t do labels. You’ve called me that at least four times over the last two days.”
“Damn,” Oakley said. “My epic plan to play hard-to-get has backfired.” His sarcastic tone made me giggle.
“Hop in the shower, superstar. We can awkwardly define the relationship after I’ve saved your career.”
Oakley was in hair and makeup, getting ready for an interview on the local news channel. Dale’s video of Oakley punching out Chuck, defending my honor, had gone viral. The social media buzz had gotten the attention of several media outlets, and my phone was blowing up with interview requests. We had to stay in California an extra two days to accommodate all of the interviews.
I stood next to Oakley as the makeup artist was doing her thing. I didn’t see the point of the makeup; Oakley was basically a god. I practiced some questions with him, but he already knew what to say. This was his chance at redemption, and he knew it.
An assistant came back and got Oakley. It was time to start. I reached up and gave him a quick kiss for luck.
“You’ve got this, Problem,” I told him confidently.
I watched the interview from behind the camera. Oakley was navigating the questions with ease. I am one hella good publicist.
“Oakley, tell me what was going through your mind when you saw Chuck grab your girlfriend’s throat.” The interviewer, Mia Mitchell, looked at Oakley intently.
Oh. Em. Gee. Mia just called me Oakley’s girlfriend on TV.
“Honestly, I wasn’t really thinking. I saw his hands wrapped around her throat, and my instinct to protect her just took over. Everything in my body reacted to stop Chuck from hurting her,” Oakley answered.
Oh my lanta. My feminine sensibilities were all atwitter.
“And it was your friend, Dale, that released the video. Given the sensitive nature of the video, are you upset with Dale for doing that?” Mia followed up.
“No,” Oakley said immediately. “I feel like he did the right thing. Amanda and I took a lot of heat, and we were affected both personally and professionally. By releasing the video, Dale was able to show the whole truth of what happened. Amanda had a few choice words for him, though,” Oakley added with a chuckle.
The news reporter laughed with him. “This entire ordeal has sparked conversations about body shaming and bullying. What is your take on the response, and how do you feel collegiate football could benefit from this?”
I chewed on my inner cheek as Oakley thought over his response. “I think it’s important to call out injustices as we see them. I also think it’s important to stand up for people and speak up when we see something wrong. I didn’t know Amanda back when this original video was shared, but I would have absolutely stepped in and rejected the bullying, and I’m just thankful I was able to do so now. I do not stand for body shaming. My beautiful, intelligent, confident, and—forgive me for saying this—freaking sexy girlfriend did not deserve the backlash from her peers. She had to transfer schools and decided to graduate early just so she could escape the cruel things they said. She’s so st
rong. It absolutely infuriates me that this happened to her.”
The journalist nodded. “You yourself have been on the receiving end of scrutiny. Your social media has been the talk of college football for quite a while.”
“I won’t deny that I’ve been liberal with my online presence. The University of Texas is not only one of the most academically prestigious colleges in the country, but we know how to have fun.”
I rolled my eyes. That was not on the agenda today, Oakley Davis.
“But I think social media has made bullying more accessible. Things can go viral at the click of a button. It’s why my mother and I have decided to start a foundation called Daisy’s Promise. We are in the process of setting up a team to support victims of social media bullying. We’ve hired a group of experts to assist those who have had their embarrassing moments streamed online—from revenge pornography shared by angry exes to harmful memes created to bully classmates. Our lawyers, therapists, and internet watch dogs are here to help.”
Tears filled my eyes.
Oakley finished the interview flawlessly. After the way he talked so passionately about me and then finished with his new anti-bullying foundation, Mia was eating out of the palm of his hand.
Oakley Davis, former womanizing playboy football god who made my life hell, just gave the perfect interview. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Oakley got offers because of the way this interview showcased his strong character, loyalty to his teammates, and because of how likeable he was on screen.
I met him backstage where he was scrubbing the stage makeup off of his face. I stared at his back adoringly for about two seconds too long. Long enough to be considered creeper territory.
“Solver, were you just checking out my ass?” he asked as he spun to face me. I could tell he was totally feeling himself, and after that interview, he should be.
“No,” I said casually. “I was just waiting for you to hurry up and finish washing your face so we can go. I have a ton to do now that you’re hot shit,” I teased.
Mmm, that ass though.