by Tay Marley
“Can I have the bed by the window?” She dumped her duffel down. “Thanks.”
It didn’t matter to me in the slightest which bed I got, so I didn’t argue. The room was spacious enough. There was a single set of drawers, a small bathroom, and a second single bed on the wall beside the door. We’d definitely stayed in worse before.
“So.” Melissa sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her legs up into a crisscross position. “I’m supposed to be, like, getting friendly with you and getting the details. You and Dray. Emily’s request.” She put her hands up over her head. “Honestly, I don’t care who you fucking and who you ain’t.”
“You can report back to her that there is no fucking going on with me and Dray.”
“Why not?” she scoffed.
“We’re friends.” I hopped on my own bed, mirroring her sitting position.
“Just friends, psssh,” she said, examining one of her long, velvet-like black braids. “Heard that before.”
“It’s not like that with us.”
“You a lesbian? Because that boy could turn a straight man.”
“Let’s not give him too much credit,” I mumbled. “And no, I’m not a lesbian. Like I said, he’s just my friend.”
“Hmm.” She shrugged, busying herself with her cell phone. “Whatever. I’ll let Emily know you’re good. I got your back. Even if you do get freaky with him. I like you. You’re a little quiet, but you’re, like, one of those quiet chicks that has big balls. I respect that.”
I laughed. I liked Melissa. Perhaps more so now that I knew she wasn’t under Emily’s thumb. It was also a relief to know that I wasn’t paired with someone worse for the evening.
That night’s game was at the Sheridan High School football field. The Cougars were a good team. We’d lost to them before, but our team was confident this time around, even when the game was nearing its end and the scoreboard was 28-26. We needed a touchdown or a field goal to win. It hadn’t been a breeze—Sheridan had put up a hell of a fight, and both of the teams were exhausted. But it wasn’t over, and we cheered in encouragement.
Drayton huddled the team. They lined up for a play. He took his place behind the center, the air thick with tension. Drayton called “Hut” and the snap was made. He stepped back as their defense went in, their protective gear crunching. He swung his arm, sidestepped, and managed to avoid losing the ball. As the defense went for the ball again, diving, Drayton twisted and threw the ball through a narrow gap of players, landing it in the hands of Derek, the running back.
Derek had the Cougars at his side and he was thrown to the ground before he could clear ten yards. The ball was hidden for a moment before it was thrown out from under the mountain of football players and into the hands of the other team. They threw the ball in the direction of their end zone. Maxon jumped and intercepted it, then threw it to Drayton. The seconds on the clock disappeared, but Drayton stepped back and threw a Hail Mary. It cleared forty-yards to Austin, our wide receiver, who caught it in the end zone. Touchdown.
The celebration was immediate. We’d won another game.
There was something about watching Drayton throw a ball that far. It was so powerful, effortless. It made me a bit weak in the knees, which must have been obvious, because later on, back in our room, Melissa pointed it out.
“Quite a man when he throwing that ball, huh?” She was in the bathroom with the door open. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her opening and closing makeup products.
It was ten. Coach Finn had performed his final round of room inspections about fifteen minutes ago. Melissa and I had both been in our pj’s. Now she was wearing a leather skirt, a tucked-in tank top, and a pair of platforms. Drayton had texted straight after the game asking if I’d be joining the rest of the crew at a party by a small lake about ten minutes from the hotel. I’d declined. The last thing that I wanted to do was spend time with him while Emily was watching. When Melissa emerged from the bathroom, her bronze skin was glowing.
“He should be good at throwing a ball,” I said. “He’s the quarterback.”
Melissa made that psssh sound again. “You were impressed. I know it.” She gave herself one more once-over in the little mirror beside the bed and smiled. “You sure you don’t want to come, girl?”
“I’m sure.”
I wouldn’t mind doing something, just not that something. I opened Messages on my phone and tapped out a message.
Hey. I might sort of be a little bit keen to do something tonight. But it won’t be drinking with those guys. No pressure. But if you want to do something else, let me know.
“Suit yourself.” Melissa shrugged, swiped on some lip gloss, and then dropped the tube into her bra. “I’m gonna get my femme prowl on.”
She opened the door to our room, peered from left to right, checking the corridor, and then crept out.
Drayton responded to my message faster than I was expecting.
Come to my room. I can think of plenty to do. ;)
You’ve got a one-track mind. B right there.
It was hot; the air conditioning must have been off, because when I’d finished getting dressed, I felt flushed. I’d changed into a white off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved cropped top and a pair of jeans that hugged all the right places. My hair sat in a long natural wave, and I didn’t put on a lot of makeup for the simple fact that I didn’t want to waste any more time.
Drayton’s room was three doors down the hall. Checking for any of the adult supervisors, I knocked twice and stared at the brass number 15 for about six seconds before the door swung open. Drayton had no shirt on, just a pair of sweatpants and his signature black backward cap.
“Damn, I didn’t think that you would for-real show up. Come on, come in before anyone sees you.”
“I did not come here to smash. Don’t be small minded.”
He was cute when he pouted, but he didn’t seem surprised to hear that I hadn’t come for illicit activities. His room was much the same as mine. Perhaps a little bigger.
“Where’s your roommate?” I asked as I leaned against the door.
He dropped backward onto the bed beside the door and threw an arm behind his head. I didn’t want to stare at him. I didn’t. But I did. His skin was warm. Tan. So smooth. I sort of wanted to run my tongue along the dips of his abdomen.
Wow.
“Derek’s gone with the rest of them.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
He shook his head. “Boring. Someone texted me with a better offer.”
“Dreamer.”
“So, what are we doing then, Cheer?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted, still leaning against the door in an attempt not to sit beside him, because then I might have actually touched his torso and that would have been inappropriate. “This was probably a dumb idea. I have no plan. Forget it.”
I turned around with the intention of leaving, but he sprang up from the bed and put himself in front of me. He was so close that I had to tip my head back to look at him. His hand wrapped around mine on the door handle behind him, and it was giving me the spins. “I have an idea. Or two. Trust me?”
If this had been three weeks ago, I would have said no. I should have been reluctant now, but I wasn’t. It was unexplainable. I did trust him. I pretended to be hesitant for a moment but then nodded. “Sure.”
“Good. Let me get dressed.”
What felt like moments later, we were in Old Town in Fort Collins. Historical buildings had been restored. The air carried the aroma of exquisite food. Music carried us through the center of town. Magical European-inspired walkways had potted flowers and Tivoli Lights stretched between the lampposts. There was a large round fountain with blue glow lights illuminating spouts of water that shot out of the ground in timed succession. Seating areas made from cobblestones were given some extra color with small trees, and a
s we walked farther through the throng of people, we discovered that downtown was dotted with art-covered pianos, romantic alleys, cozy restaurants, and open plazas.
We stopped and listened to a live band on an elevated makeshift stage. Their music was whimsical. I moved with it, smiling and absorbing the moment. Drayton watched me.
Moving on, we passed a small flower shop. The owner was beside the store, and there were several paint pots and brushes on the ground. There were already hundreds of random brush strokes on the concrete wall. She offered us a brush each; Drayton picked blue. I chose silver, and we left our marks.
We slipped down an alleyway. The crowded walkway was filled with excited couples and teenagers. We walked beside each other, careful not to become separated, until we arrived at a solid black door. Drayton pushed it open, and we slipped inside a narrow staircase. It descended into darkness, but he didn’t hesitate, and the farther down that we went, the more I could hear the solid thump of bass music. At the bottom of the staircase, there was a curtain. Drayton held it aside. I gave him a curious look as I passed him.
A bouncer with a big, pale, bald head hovered in front of another door, watching me carefully until Drayton appeared. His expression went from hard and cold to warm and elated.
“How’s it going, Caleb!” Drayton greeted the bouncer, wrapping his arm around me as he walked us forward. Under his touch, a thrill pulsed through my veins.
“Not bad. How’s your dad?”
“Same old.” Drayton’s answer was quick and indifferent. He pulled me a bit tighter against his side. “Dallas, this is Caleb. Caleb, this is Dallas. My girlfriend.”
Hold up.
What?
Dazed for a moment, I missed the rest of their little chitchat because I was unsure of what the hell had just happened.
“Behave you two, but go on in.” Caleb stepped aside and Drayton pulled me into a nightclub. A real nightclub with a bar and adults and a blue hue from the lights that illuminated all of the white in the room, including my top. Drayton walked toward the bar, pulling me behind him. There must have been a different entrance because people were spilling in from a door on the other side of the room.
“Dray,” I shouted over a remixed version of “Kiss and Make Up” by Dua Lipa. “I’m not dressed for a club!”
He lowered his mouth to my ear, and his breath was warm. “You look perfect.”
Our fingers laced together, we squeezed through the cluster of people surrounding the bar. I’d have never made it through on my own, but his large presence got us safely to the front. He quickly looped an arm around my waist and slipped me in front of his body. I was against the bar, and his arms were on either side of me, creating a safe little cage where I wouldn’t get trampled.
“We’ll have a Corona and a passion-fruit martini,” Drayton said to the bartender.
“That’s an interesting order,” I teased.
I turned around and realized how pressed against each other we were. Chest to chest. Well, chest to nose. His arms remained encased around me as he leaned on the bar, staring down at me.
“Why did you tell the bouncer that I’m your girlfriend?”
“He won’t let just anyone in. You had to be someone important to me or he wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“Makes sense.” I turned around and bopped to the beat, fingers curled on the edge of the bar while I ignored the feeling of Drayton’s chest against my back. He smelled so good.
The bartender slid the drinks across the bar. Drayton picked up the beer and left me the martini. Sure, it tasted like a passion-
fruit slushy, but it was tainted with the taste of alcohol—the combination was awful. I winced with disgust and Drayton watched me with amusement. He took the martini and handed me the beer. I was surprised when he slurped on the straw. It was the funniest thing that I had ever seen. He was tall, muscular, and masculine, and he was sipping a frozen martini. I couldn’t stop giggling.
“Thank you,” I shouted with laughter, lifting the bottle. The corner of his mouth pulled into a small smile, and he winked.
When we were finished with our drinks, we ditched the glass and the bottle on the bar, and Drayton took me by the hand again, leading me through the crowd. It was effortless. He was almost impossible to ignore. He was a teenager in high school, but he carried himself with importance and confidence. It wasn’t arrogant, though. It wasn’t even intentional. It was just him.
We stopped in the middle of the dance floor and he placed his hands an inch from either side of my waist, hovering over the exposed skin but not touching it until I gave him a confirming nod and he gripped my hips. My hands connected at the back of his neck and we moved to the remixed beat of “Let Me Hold You (Turn Me On)” by Cheat Codes and Dante Klein. There was no avoiding the occasional hair whip or stood-on toe, but we were soon lost to the moment.
Our bodies were pressed flush; we moved our hips in time. His large hands tightened, and he watched me as we stepped. He turned me around, pulling my back into his front. I lowered. It was slow as I dropped down in front of him and came back up with rolling hips and hands in my hair.
I felt his lips beside my ear again. “I’m glad that I get to dance with you this time,” he said with a raised voice. “I was jealous when I had to watch Josh doing this with you.”
My stomach flipped over, and I was glad that he couldn’t see me. His hands slid around, resting on my stomach. He felt me as I continued to grind against him. His grip was tight and desperate.
When I spun around again, I stepped back and danced alone. The music was the lead and the song was hot. I closed my eyes and lifted my arms. I knew the swing in my hips was sensual, even more so when I opened my eyes again and found Drayton a few inches in front of me, watching with his gaze full of longing. This was dangerous. It felt precarious. But it felt so good.
After an hour of dancing with no barriers, we agreed we needed some fresh air. Drayton also let me know that this was just the first stop of the evening.
“There’s more to come, Cheer.” He slid his hands into his pockets and his tone turned teasing. “You as well, if you’re up for it.”
He was such a shit. We walked through downtown and found that the nightlife was still alive and in full swing. It had just passed midnight.
“You can dance, Cheer.” He nudged me with his elbow and stared at the ground. “I mean, I know that most people can dance in a club. But your body. There’s this flow. Like the music isn’t in control. You are. It beats to your body.”
I felt breathless at his explanation. No one had described my dancing like that before. No one. “It’s just natural.” He cleared his throat and smiled. “You can move.”
“Thanks,” I said, running my hands through my damp hair.
“Now, here’s an observation,” he mused with a knowing grin. “You don’t like cheerleading. You’re just doing it because we don’t have a dance team. It’s an alternative.”
I attempted to hide how flattered I was that he had picked up on that without having been told. “You’re right. Cheerleading is fun, but it doesn’t do it for me like dancing does.”
“That’s the plan? For college.”
“That’s the plan,” I confirmed. “I’ve applied to three schools: Colorado College, SMU in Texas, and CalArts in California. But I want CalArts.”
“California dreams, huh?”
“Something like that. I want a change. Even if it’s not forever, I want to experience something else. Something different.”
“I’ve been to California. It’s nice. I mean, some of it sucks. But I think that’s the same with any place. All cities have their pros and cons.”
“For sure,” I agreed. “How about you. Know where you want to go?”
“I’m not sure. It doesn’t bother me a whole lot. As long as I get to play football. My dad is pushing hard for Baylor
, in Waco, his alma mater. A long line of Laheys attended that school. I’ve told him that it doesn’t matter where I go. He’s set in his ways though.”
“Is that the reason that you support the Cowboys? Roots in Texas?”
“My mom is from Dallas. It’s where they met.”
“Your dad isn’t from Texas?”
“Nope. Born and raised right here in Colorado. But his dad went to Baylor as well. It’s sort of become a tradition to retire here.”
“Oh. Retire? What did they do? Football? Is it a family tradition?”
He was quiet for a beat. “Yeah.”
“Did they play in the NFL?”
There was a long pause. Drayton’s hands fidgeted in his pockets. He seemed wound up. It was a long time before he spoke. “Yes. Please don’t tell anyone. I’ve done a damn good job of hiding it.”
“What do you want to hide it for?” I couldn’t believe that his father and grandfather had played in the NFL.
“It’s a lot of pressure when people know the truth. It’s enough pressure as it is, being quarterback. My dad and grandfather both played the same position, generations of stress and expectation . . .” His laugh sounded tense. Nervous.
“How has it remained a secret though? How has no one recognized him, or your grandfather—do they live around here too?”
“My grandad died in a house fire when I was a baby, and my dad doesn’t come to school. He gives me space. And besides, he retired a long time ago.”
It was obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it. I was surprised that he had said as much as he had. But if he didn’t want to boast about his football-star father, I wasn’t going to push it.
Being closed off from potential relationships and romantic connections meant that I’d never shared so much with someone before. I’d never had someone share so much with me, and I never realized how good it would feel.
We were walking and talking so easily that I lost track of time and distance, but when he eventually stopped, we were outside an exquisite Colonial home. I checked my phone and realized we’d been walking for an hour. It was one o’clock now, and the streets were dead silent.