The QB Bad Boy and Me

by Tay Marley

  “What do you mean I’ve been distracted?”

  “It means that you’ve been distracted.” I tied my hair back. “You’re out all weekend. You’re late home after work. Like, damn, I sound like a nagging wife. But whatever. You’re dating a lot. It is what it is.”

  Nathan didn’t like being cornered. He didn’t like being called out, but when I opened the bathroom door, I noticed that his cheeks had turned dark red. After Drayton shouted at him for forgetting me at work a month and a half ago, he apologized. But for a week or so, he also brought it up in conversation whenever it seemed “natural.” He wanted to know if Drayton was still upset with him.

  “You’ve never seemed to have a problem with it before?”

  “Yeah.” I started stretching. “Because I don’t have a problem with it. But planning a date on our first trip to California together seems a little shit.”

  “You could have said something.”

  “Why should I have to?! Why wouldn’t you just give it up for one damn evening so that we can hang out and experience this together?”

  “I thought that you’d be practicing all night,” he defended himself, waving at the room and my outfit in a frantic state. “I figured that you wouldn’t want me hanging around.”

  “Well . . . I do!” I shouted. “I need my brother. For two days. That’s all. But if you’re too obsessed with your dick, forget it.”

  “That’s a bit uncalled for.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Is it? Is it uncalled for? Why don’t you just get sorted and go.”

  “I can’t go now.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No, I can’t,” he argued. “You’re upset.”

  “Fantastic observation skills.” I straightened up from a calf stretch and stepped into a side lunge. “I’ll be fine, Nathan. Like you said, I’ll be practicing all night. And then I suppose I’ll need some sleep. I’m not panicking over my future. I’m super calm. I don’t need support at all.”

  “Dal,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t realize. I didn’t know that it made you so upset.”

  The springs squeaked and the white comforter wrinkled as he sat down again. “You’re independent as hell. You always have been. If I’d known that you . . . well . . . needed me, I would never have arranged a date. I mean, is this just tonight? Or all of the time?”

  “I mean, the fact that you’ve slept with half of Castle Rock and never had a follow-up date is a little gross. You know, being served groceries as well as looks at the store because you didn’t call the cashier back is a bit shit. But that’s not the point.”

  “What’s the point?”

  “Sometimes, when it’s important, think about someone else. Is it that hard? It doesn’t seem that hard to figure out, Nathan.”

  We didn’t argue often, but it did feel good to get that off my chest. I wanted him to know how I felt. But I didn’t want him to feel bad.

  “It’s not hard.” His smile was tight and he stood up from the bed. “I’ll cancel tonight and we ca—”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to.” He slid his phone out of his back pocket. “I’m here. We’re going to embrace our evening in California. Even if we don’t leave this room.”

  I laughed.

  When I was born, Nathan was eight. When I was eight, he was sixteen. He suffered his shoulder injury that year. And when he turned seventeen, just after accepting that he wouldn’t play professional football, our parents died. He went from being a teenager without a care in the world who had the freedom of college at his fingertips to the caregiver of a child. He had to learn balance and maintain an identity. He’d done well. I was proud of him.

  And it seemed that he was proud of me too, or so he told me while I practiced my routine for hours on end. He convinced me to take a break at one point. We had a hot coffee from a quaint cafe near our hotel. We snapped a few photos and selfies, and when we got into bed at eight, we talked. The lights were off. Our beds were side by side and there was a low but persistent thrum coming from the small bar fridge.

  “Nathan,” I said, “have you ever been in love? I mean, I know that you date around a lot. But have none of them caught your interest further than just a one-night stand?”

  There was no response for a moment. I wondered if he’d fallen asleep faster than should have been possible. But then he sighed. “Sort of. Well . . . it could have gone there. But she didn’t reciprocate the feelings. She didn’t see it working out long term, anyway.”

  “Who was she?”

  “Just a girl I went to school with, I’m over it now.”

  “Sure about that? You do a lot of sleeping around for someone who’s over heartbreak.”

  “I’m over it.” I could hear his mattress as he shifted around. “Anyway, how about you? You in love?”

  While the thought of being in love terrified me, it also turned me inside out. “Yeah. Which is sort of something that I wanted to avoid, but it seems to be happening.”

  “Why would you want to avoid it?”

  “Because.” I tucked the sheets up around me. “I guess things are sort of uncertain at the moment. We’re on different paths to different colleges, and we haven’t even talked titles. How can I transition a discussion about long-distance relationships into that conversation when we haven’t even defined what we are?”

  “You’re overthinking it.” Nathan sounded tired. “Long distance works. You’re obviously in love. Don’t make things more complicated than they need to be. Just go with the flow. You’ll be happier if you embrace whatever happens.”

  What he was telling me made sense. A lot of sense. But it was easier said than done.

  The theater was enormous. It was intimidating and the seats weren’t even full. There were three women and two men sitting at a panel in front of the stage. Red velvet curtains were raised. A single light illuminated the spot where I stood, feeling as if my heart was going to beat out of its chest.

  I had never felt pressure like this. I couldn’t remember the names of the five judges. My stomach was in knots, my future a moving mirage that could slip straight past me if I didn’t perform the correct steps, lost forever.

  The first notes from “I Get to Love You” flowed from the speaker and I counted down in my head. Focus was something that I worked hard to maintain for the first few steps. And then I slipped into a trance. A state of bliss and ease. My heart didn’t feel as erratic as it had when I’d walked onto the stage. What had been a feeling of anxious dread moments earlier had turned into euphoria.

  My movements were in time with the soft rhythm. My toes were pointed, arms moving through the air weightlessly. The smile on my face was natural, nothing artificial about it. The lyrics about unplanned love resonated in my head as I danced. It was true. I could never have planned to feel this way. I had chosen this song for its grace and its subtle power.

  The rhythm pulsed into me. It was in my veins. It was electric, setting my nerves alight and moving my limbs. With each step that I took, I forgot. There were no concerns about the future, about what was going to happen after graduation. I was free; free to move and feel and express how I felt without fear.

  I was free to feel the love in my heart.

  As I neared the end of the routine, I knew that it was the best that I’d performed it to date. The emotion that existed within each step was pure, unfiltered and raw. When I first choreographed the routine, I was just a dancer. I knew the steps and understood the music. But not the feelings behind them.

  I knew how to invoke emotion on the stage, how to portray those emotions on my face and in my movements. But feeling it, truly letting the exquisite gratification of being in the deep end flow within me was what I believe carried me through the performance without a single slip up.

  Chapter 20

  When we w
ere kids, Mom and Dad made Christmas magical. And when our grandmother was around, we’d eat a beautiful meal at her place. She made the best pork belly ever. Christmas and New Year’s had been quiet in our home for a long time.

  The magic was gone, and the food was average; it was just another day. Except we ate a lot of sugar and watched Hallmark Channel Christmas movies. In the past, I’d been to Gabby’s for dinner. But Nathan didn’t want to go this year, and I didn’t want to leave him. So we spent time together and reminisced about when our parents were alive.

  Nathan headed out for New Year’s Eve this year. He wasn’t gone all night, which surprised me. It seemed as if our conversation in California had made a difference. Whatever the reason, it was nice to have his full attention until he dashed off to the bar to count in another year.

  I’d tried to convince Gabby that we should do something together even if it meant going to one of the many countdown parties that our peers were throwing, but her mom wanted her at home.

  The night was uneventful because as luck would have it, Drayton was in Texas over the break. He said that his mom had family and friends there. He didn’t let up with the texts while he was gone. It was never ending . . . and sweet and super inappropriate sometimes.

  When we went back to school, the snow was thick. It was cold—an inconvenience to everyone. White covered the grounds and glittered in the setting sun. The parking lot had to be plowed before, during, and after the cars had left. All sports practices had to remain indoors. Drayton and I made discreet plans in the gymnasium to meet each other after school. We were still being cautious around the cheer team, although I thought that after Thanksgiving, some of his teammates had a fair idea about what was going on. He and Austin were civil again after Austin had apologized for being so unhinged. “Sorry for being a dick when you pissed me off.”

  Not exactly the most heartfelt apology that I’d ever heard, but I accepted it and let it go.

  While it was torture to go the entire six and a half hours of school without a kiss or cuddle after being apart for almost two weeks, I looked forward to a proper hello when I went over to Drayton’s house later. He’d informed me earlier that he’d have a few hours alone before his parents were back, and he wouldn’t object to making use of the privacy.

  Gabby and I walked through the halls later that afternoon. We had both hung back to work on an assignment for English. The chosen novel for our current read and review was My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult. It was sadder than I cared for—forced trauma on pupils should be illegal.

  The students had all gone home. The corridors were quiet, and it was getting colder and darker outside. Gabby was filling me in on how Josh’s Christmas in Canada with his parents had gone. It sounded cold—colder than what we experienced here.

  “I think one day I might go to Australia or New Zealand for Christmas break,” I mentioned, sliding my phone out of my pocket when I felt it vibrate. “It’s summer there. Could be a nice change to experience.”

  “Christmas in the summer,” she mumbled with amusement. “It’s hard to imagine.”

  There was a text message from Drayton. I read it while Gabby continued to weigh the pros and cons of experiencing a different season over our winter break.

  Are you still at school? I left my folder in the locker rooms. I have a bunch of dumb quiz question things to fill out for Coach. Can you please grab it for me if you haven’t left?

  And drive safe please x

  “I have to run over to the gym and grab something for Drayton,” I said, slipping my phone away as we pushed open the school doors and stepped into the white, cold parking lot. It was getting dark and Gabby frowned.

  “I’ll come.”

  We both reached into our bags and retrieved our gloves. “No, Gabs, it’s fine. I’ll be quick. It’s so cold. Go home.”

  Gabby dropped her bottom lip. “But it’s getting dark.”

  “I’m going to the gym and then back to the car. I’ll survive.”

  “But—”

  “Gabs.” I walked backward, slow and careful on the slick concrete. “Go. I’ll probably see you at Drayton’s, hmm?”

  She grinned. “Yeah. I’ll be with Josh.”

  I didn’t let her keep arguing. “Good. Go and keep warm. I’ll see you later.”

  I carefully jogged over to the gym, a cloud of white air billowing with each breath that passed my shivering lips.

  The locker rooms reeked. I’d never been into the boys’ one before, but the odor was foul. The wall of sweat-smell hit me the moment that I opened the door, but I didn’t plan on hanging around. I headed toward the row of cubby holes in search of Drayton’s.

  As I passed Coach Finn’s office, I peered at the large window and came to a standstill.

  Because Emily and the assistant coach, Lincoln, were going at it. He had her bent over the desk. They still had their clothes on, thank God, but I’d seen too much. I’d been afraid that I might stumble on a pair of dirty underwear or an athletic cup while I was in here, not my cheerleading captain and the twenty-five-year-old assistant coach having a bone.

  Before I could run, Emily shrieked. There was a series of panicked gasps and flustered hand gestures while the two of them put themselves together. Lincoln smoothed down his brown hair and wiped a hand across his damp brow as the two of them emerged from the office.

  My feet had remained planted to the spot. I was in a state of shock and disbelief. I mean, I wasn’t entirely surprised at Emily—she’s the sort of girl you’d find screwing someone’s uncle at a family brunch—but more so at the fact that I’d managed to snap a photo or two and I might just have a one-up on this witch who wanted to ruin my life for some unknown reason.

  “Give me the phone.” She held out her palm and used the other hand to fix a loose strand of her red hair. “Don’t screw with me, Dallas. Phone.”

  “Yeah . . . no, I’ll leave the screwing to Lincoln.” He was flustered and blubbering, but he made no move to snatch my phone. I slipped it into my coat pocket and did up the zip.

  “She’s eighteen.” Lincoln let out a strangled noise. “It’s not illegal.”

  “I don’t know if the board would see it like that.” I narrowed a calculating stare at him. “She’s still a student.”

  “Give it up.” Emily’s throat sounded as if it was closing over. “Linc, just get out of here. You’re making it worse.

  “Dallas.” She was attempting to be calm but her voice trembled and her smile looked more Joker-like than friendly. “Please give me the phone or delete those photos.”

  “So you can keep threatening me and making the rest of the semester total shit?” I scoffed. “No.”

  She stared at me, then her lip began to quiver and soon after her entire frame began to hum with the realization that Drayton had told me about her attempt to keep us apart. It was sort of like watching the countdown on a microwave—you know that the beep is coming and you can count the seconds until it goes off. There’s an anticipation. She finally exhaled loudly and collapsed on the bench seat outside of the office.

  “You could ruin his career,” she sobbed. She was crying actual tears. I watched her with marvel. “You can’t do that to him. Don’t ruin his career.”

  I almost didn’t want to take the bait—she might be the best actress this county has ever seen. “You know that he’s taking advantage of you, right?” I sat down beside her. “He’s practically a teacher and almost a decade older, Emily. What are you doing?”

  She turned and stared at me through tear-filled eyes. “He loves me!” It was hard to decipher her words through her blubbering, but I worked hard to keep up. “I love him. He really cares, Dallas. People never fucking care. He does.”

  I remembered Drayton telling me that her home life was terrible. That her parents didn’t care and had never given her the time of day; consequences that followed s
uch actions were often too dire to reverse. It explained her need to keep in constant control. Looking for love in place of parental affection was almost never going to end well either.

  “I won’t need to use the photo if you just leave me alone,” I told her, spotting Drayton’s cubby. I stood up and collected his folder, aware of Emily watching me with tears slipping down her cheeks. “Drayton and I are . . . together. We’re happy. Don’t call CalArts or whatever it is that you were going to have your mom do, and I won’t show that photo to anyone.”

  “Fine.” She stared at her feet. “Whatever. You always manage to get what you want.”

  “I really don’t know what your issue is. You’re obviously happy with Lincoln. What’s with the need to keep Drayton off limits as well?”

  “Because you piss me off,” she snapped, standing so fast that I flinched. But she didn’t move again, she just wiped her wet face. “You don’t even make an effort with people and they still like you. Everyone likes you.”

  She almost sounded . . . jealous.

  “I might not make an effort to make lots of friends or whatever, but I’m polite, Emily.” I shrugged a shoulder. “Treat people with kindness and respect. That might sound like an overused Tumblr post, but it makes a difference. If you ever need someone to talk to,” I told her, “I’m not a terrible listener.”

  She wiped her nose and the sound of her sniffling echoed as she squared her shoulders and glared. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  I turned around and started out of the room. “The offer is there.”

  “You’re late.” Drayton met me at the car when I arrived at his house fifteen minutes later. It was dark but the drive was illuminated with spotlights. Some of the trees along the edge had twinkling lights in them as well. It was such an enchanting property. “I was getting worried.”

  “Here’s your folder.” I handed it to him, and he threw it back into the car. He slammed the door shut and pushed me against it as his warm lips were on my cold ones.